Before entering the dining area of Maggie’s, one is greeted by the entrance with what initially looks like a hole-in-the-wall bar, as if to filter the uninitiated from those in the know. The restaurant inspires a sense of wonder, until it becomes clear that one may have wandered onto a film set rather than into a dining room—perhaps a Wong Kar Wai fantasy refracted through Keong Saik’s latest darling.
Is the restaurant’s name a nod to Maggie Cheung in In the Mood for Love? That remains unanswered. Yet, everything about Maggie’s — from the vintage posters by New World Plaza to the folding screens, moody lighting, and a soundtrack of Chinese oldies — feels like a scene from the film. Brought to life by the team behind Marcy’s, the result is a dining experience that is intimate and cinematic.
The kitchen draws from Yunnan and Hunan traditions with a refusal to codify itself. Sichuan spice, often the main character in the Chinese food most are familiar with — takes a supporting role where it is present, but never overpowering. Instead, the palate leans into fermentation and richness allowing the flavours to pleasantly surprise rather than hit with the usual heat. While some may be quick to label Maggie’s as Western-Chinese fusion, that would only skim the surface. Its foundations are firmly rooted in Chinese flavours, even as it veers off-course with irreverence. This “almost Chinese” restaurant thrives on doing things wrong, in all the right ways.
Case in point is the Lamb Tartare, evoking a Chinese pickled dish than a classic raw preparation. The gaminess of lamb is subdued, giving way to the umami of century egg and the tartness of preserved vegetables, best eaten with a side of crackers.
Even dishes that arrive familiar carry a twist. The Golden Prawn Croque Madame comes topped with a passionfruit hollandaise—an unexpected addition that proves sharply considered. The sweetness cuts through the richness, offering a brightness that mirrors the restaurant’s instinctive, if unconventional, approach to flavour.
Mains like the Maggie’s Southern Dirty Rice played to a different register, resembling an elevated claypot rice where the Monkfish liver parfait and duck liver sausage are mixed into the grains, bound together by a yellow wine glaze. The result is where land and sea converge into one decadent mouthful. For those seeking something more familiar, the Roasted Pomfret offers a punchy green peppercorn salsa verde, crowned with caramelised ginger that is surprisingly central to the dish.
For dessert, Maggie’s 8 Treasures, a date gelato rests on glutinous rice, accompanied by red bean cloud, longan, and jujube. The jujube offers a briny jolt that reins in the sweetness, anchoring the dish in something more elemental — ideal for those who prefer their desserts layered rather than excessively sweet.
Maggie’s concise menu is thoughtful and culturally resonant. In all its elegance and excess, it may not be traditional, but come for the experience because the food is just the opening act.
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