Sage Restaurant & Wine Bar

If timing is everything in KL’s fine dining scene, is Sage still relevant? It swayed our former food editor six years ago (resulting in TOKL’s first five-star restaurant review) and has since pulled in a constant stream of affluent housewives at lunchtime. But loyal clientele aside, does Sage deserve to maintain its rating in an age where inspired top chefs turn away from foie gras and embrace modern techniques? It doesn’t quite.

The eggshell tones, the symmetry of the ceiling mirrors, the sage flourishes and the open kitchen – even after years of service, none of it looks dated. The same can’t be said of the menu – the entries are starkly similar to when it began, which could either be attributed to Chef Daniel’s contentment or his loyal execution of tried-and-tested formulas. Either way, there is no long end of the stick for Sage, what with the scene in Singapore and Thailand rapidly overtaking ours.

If Chef Daniel wants to play catch-up, the starter of waygu rump carpaccio is a wise approach, sveltely upgraded with plum-infused konbu dashi, a thick glob of dijon mustard and an exceedingly juicy oblong of cucumber. The royale of Maine lobster doesn’t fare as well; the lobster is submerged in a yuzu broth but neither the seafood nor the liquid travels beyond bland.

The main of pan-fried bar fish preserves the strict philosophies of any Escoffier guide – the fish is well timed, the skin properly crisped, the pané of oyster is light on the outside and gooey in the middle, the young bean sprout shoots are faultlessly blanched, and the beurre noisette with miso doesn’t overpower the fish. But, to put it bluntly, it’s a dish that is forgotten as soon as the waiter clears the plate. And in a restaurant where the mains clock in at RM110 a pop, is it churlish of me to expect the food to be just the slightest bit exciting – even in its simplest, most delicate state?

Happily, this is very much the case in Sage’s long-time signature dish, the tournedos rossini. It brings out in me a deep, meditative sigh – the filet mignon comes in a portion bigger than I expect and seared at the brink of medium rare. Everything else on the dish hums to the beef’s tune – the roasted foie gras atop the meat disintegrates with the ability of animal fat; the mash (incredibly eschewed of its starch) is whipped to a beige, lightly seasoned cushion; the asparagus is charred to a wonderful snap; and the king mushroom introduces a surprising springiness. The red wine reduction, meanwhile, is on a Bourdeaux-level intensity – a glossy, full-bodied puddle of simmered wine which makes an easy substitute for the missing Madeira.

At dessert time, it’s clear that sugar isn’t the restaurant’s strongest suit. The ginger and lime brûlée is a bit been-there-done-that in idea and middling in lushness, while the off-menu VSOP soufflé is far too foamy and eggy in the middle. It doesn’t help that the waiter insists we order dessert at the start of the meal (something about ‘the kitchen closing’).

Which brings us to the service. The staff are smiling and brisk, but a gripe if I may – they are dismayingly uninformed about the food’s contents, which I trust isn’t too difficult to brush up on with a menu as short and permanent as the one at Sage’s. I don’t need to know the chronological details of my sea bass’s capture; but I simply want to confirm the species of a mushroom or the flavour of a butter.

I could sit here and bang on all day about Sage’s métiers and missteps, but at the end of it all, it was and still is a beast in the scene. Yes, an ace filet mignon is a good thing at any restaurant, but it’s not nearly good enough for a restaurant like Sage.