It’s my third time visiting Odette in its near decade-long run, and it’s a charmed one. The food at this storied institution has never been better, the signatures tinkered (well) to abandon. Which means that the brilliance of that smoked egg dish extends beyond the show — a crate of eggs with their tops cut-off, Arpege-style, nested in smoke that dramatically unfurls like it would at a Superbowl half-time show — to the details: the light-as-a-cloud potato espuma, the meuniere, and the little jewels of Chorizo Iberico.

The smoked egg delivers as much pleasure as all the other dishes, and they reflect the quiet sensibilities of a chef, Julien Royer, who finds beauty in subtlety. During a recent meal, there was a crystalline pork broth cradling tender, sweet abalone and foie-gras with a texture unlike silken al-dente tofu. A scallop crudo that didn’t need the acid because the dill and horseradish was already enough. A toothfish that didn’t need the salt because you’d lose the contrast between the fish and the squid that crowns it.

I don’t know why a steak knife is placed alongside the dish; if you press down on the fish with the base of a spoon, the oils from the meat surrenders beautifully into a sauce made with lovage and probably a dozen other ingredients.

And I don’t know why it’s taken me this long — 3 years — to revisit what is now my favorite three-Michelin starred restaurant in Singapore. Till next time, and hopefully soon.