Issue 15

The maxim ‘big is beautiful’ could’ve been coined especially for Muse. This retromodernist monolith in the bowels of the National Museum exudes grandiosity, from its cavernous main dining area to its extravagant portions. Before an expensive January 2008 refurb, Muse was a mere bar, albeit a swanky one. Now the bar’s been relocated outdoors, and the interior flaunts luxe in abundance: chocolate-coloured drapes, gold-painted pillars, antique mirrors.

However generously proportioned everything else is at Muse, its menu takes seconds to peruse. This is paradise for francophile gourmets with short attention spans and large appetites. Don’t come to this carnivorous bon viveur’s haven if you’re trying to cut your calories; even the starters are huge. My palate was seduced instantly by the house salad’s tangy gorgonzola- on-greens combo; the towering calamari-and-chorizo dish could pass for a main. At one dinner, the sumptuous wild mushroom risotto was followed immediately by a vast, juicy, tender lamb shank, complemented perfectly by spinach and gnocchi, a steal at $30.

Needless to say, we hardly needed sweets by dinner’s end, but in the name of excessiveness, we decided to try Muse’s dessert course. This is no mere side attraction, but the crowning glory. The magnificently creamy vanilla crème brûlée and the warm chocolate cake, the latter elegantly partnered with pistachio ice cream, were both sheer melt-in-the-mouth delight.

Lunchtime guests will be no less impressed by the sandwiches. Though the marinated prawns on multigrain seemed undercooked, the tobiko mayonnaise, salad and frites accompaniment redefined ‘hearty’ – more than justifying the $18 price tag. Similarly the sauté beef, with mushroom and onion piled high on country bread, made dessert entirely unnecessary second time around. But Muse’s downfall lies in the fact that it casts its net too widely; museum-goers might be a diverse bunch, but a restaurant shouldn’t try to be all things to all people. A brasserie-style breakfast runs concurrently to lunch; ‘Krug Korner’ is an executive-class side-room, serving the champagne-quaffing elite. The casual, alfresco bar adjoining the courtyard looks as if it was arranged by a colour-blind garden-party host, but somehow retains a relaxing ambience. Though the wines were fine, I found the signature cocktails overpriced and lacking alcoholic punch. Another caveat is the toilets. You still need to trot self-consciously across the yard and into the Museum proper to find relief.

And although one could hardly accuse head chef Anderson Ho and his team of culinary slacking, communication needs tightening in the kitchen. The wait-staff, while charming, had a topsy-turvy modus operandi. Bread rolls were dished out exactly as the starter arrived, rather than before; likewise the mid-course risotto was brought in with the main. Coffee came before dessert, not after, then I was asked if I wanted more wine.

So a little fine-tuning is required before this sleeping giant emerges from the museum’s shadow. Muse’s location is more of a curse than a blessing; its interior could barely be more striking, yet from the outside you wouldn’t know it was there. With the NMS some distance off the main Orchard drag, its owners might have to rely on exhibition-goers’ curiosity or word of mouth to pay those sizeable overheads. But for those in the know, there’s more than enough substance behind Muse’s considerable style to please even the pickiest punter.

Further information about Muse.