We review Singapore's IYASAKA by Hashida

Let me set the scene. I’m sitting in the serene, softly lit dining room of IYASAKA by Hashida, tucked into the leafy folds of the newly opened Raffles Sentosa Singapore. Opposite me, a glass of sake glimmers. And somewhere behind the counter, I catch a glimpse of Chef Kenjiro ‘Hatch’ Hashida. There is an unmistakable air of someone who’s about to mess with my understanding of Japanese cuisine. Lovingly, of course.

Review of IYASAKA by Hashida in Singapore

To call Chef Kenjiro ‘Hatch’ Hashida a culinary enigma is to undersell the show. The man doesn’t just cook, he performs, he provokes, he dances on the knife’s edge between reverence and rebellion. At IYASAKA by Hashida, Hatch stages an edible love letter to Japan with a signature wink.

The philosophy here isn’t just plated, it’s lived. Rooted in the ancient martial arts doctrine of shu ha ri, Hatch’s dishes honour the past, punch through convention, and then strut into the future in a floral suit and sunglasses. It’s tradition with teeth. But don’t mistake the pageantry for gimmick. Beneath every flamboyant flourish is a deep, obsessive commitment to excellence, or as Hatch himself would call it, ryuu ryuu shin ku: grit, grind, perfection, repeat.

The opening act

The meal begins, as all great stories do, with a tantalising tease. The Hassun was a delightful curated quartet that read like an avant-garde haiku. The crab fish cake, beer-battered to a golden defiance, came studded with lily bud, a nod to nostalgia wrapped in crunch. Then, a slice of duck, tender and complex, coated in a mystery marinade that could only have come from the brain of someone equal parts culinary genius and mad scientist. The hotaruika and bamboo shoot in yuzu miso? A flavour bomb, sharp, citrusy, and wonderfully weird. And the edamame soup in a delicate cup? Velvety and nutty. I was hooked.

Then came the deep-fried tilefish, its skin lacquered in crushed broad beans, crowned with caviar, and flanked by amaranth leaves. A dusting of fermented shiitake mushroom powder clouds the plate like edible incense. Naturally, I ate it all. The crunch gave way to silky flesh, while the umami was borderline scandalous.

The sashimi interlude

Enter the sashimi course. A duo of amberjack (kampachi) and fatty tuna (ōtoro) was pure minimalist theatre. The fatty tuna melts on the tongue while the Kampachi (amberjack), gleaming and immaculate, acts as its delicate foil.

Getting all warmed up

Now, everyone loves a great chawanmushi, but this one? This one is luxe to the bone. Abalone, uni, white asparagus, and sawara (Spanish mackerel), all suspended in an impossibly silky custard. It was savoury, sultry, and just complex enough to make me pause in conversation for a full minute.

Hatch’s signature ankimo, seared until caramelised, arrived with yari-ika (spear squid). It was sweet, briny, and just a little cheeky. This isn’t the ankimo of purists, it’s better. Torched to a brûléed crackle and unapologetically bold.

Just when you think the curtain’s about to fall, Hatch manages to slip in one last showstopper. Along swims the sea bream (sugiita yaki), marinated with saikyo miso. It was sweet, nutty, and hauntingly fragrant. It’s plated like a scene from a Noh play: austere and beautiful.

Final thoughts

I left IYASAKA by Hashida feeling suitably satiated, but also strangely moved. Like I’d just attended a soulful, slightly surreal dinner party hosted by a philosopher-warrior-chef with impeccable taste and a flair for dramatic plating.

Hatch doesn’t just cook. He creates moments. Delicious, deeply personal, slightly rebellious experiences that will have you questioning what fine dining should be. He invokes shōmi hakkei—the art of drawing from life’s most resonant views and serves it on ceramic, lacquer, and glass.

Go hungry. Go curious.

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