FOOD REVIEW: NOX — If anything, come for the experience

SINGAPORE — I’ve never felt more conflicted than I do now in considering how to approach this review for the newly-opened NOX over at swanky Club Street—stone’s throw away neighbours with Thirty-Six Brewlab and Smokehouse and the affable Lolla. I reckon it was simply a matter of time before I’m faced with the dilemma of not letting my very personal feelings get in the way of a review, though, as a friend reminded me, “That’s exactly what a review is, Zat. It’s personal.”

If you’re unfamiliar, NOX is an experiential dining concept where guests eat in a space awash with a thick blanket of darkness to the extent where you’re unable to see even the outline of your hand if you held it 5cm away from your nose. NOX’s dining in the dark philosophy is guided by an altruistic and empathetic aspiration of letting diners experience what it means to be living in a world of the visually impaired.

This new outfit at Club Street, though, is not their first physical space. That would be at Beach Road, where they’ve held the fort for eight years until July of 2021, forced to exit due to a lease renewal dispute with its landlord. The world is cruel and unkind, and it shows.

I would say, though, that this new space at Club Street gives NOX the impression that they’re the type of dining destination to be taken seriously. Don’t trust Google Maps, though, with their classic mislabeling—NOX is further down where it’s indicated on the app at unit 83, marked by heavy wooden doors, stark against a black façade.

The experience begins with tasty cocktails at the foyer crafted by one Sam Wong, a Diageo World Class finalist who also opened Ah Sam Cold Drink Stall, featuring lusty libations such as Pleeease Burst My Bubble, which Sam instructs me to do with my nose.

Here at the foyer, light is aplenty, the atmosphere convivial—it lulls you into thinking that this is yet another restaurant blessed with sound finances for a new venue in the middle of a pandemic.

That is, until your visually-impaired host comes through a door at the front, ready to bring you upstairs for the full NOX experience. He starts by asking for your name—an important step seeing as that will be the only identifier once you’re seated upstairs in complete darkness—then leads you up a flight of stairs that really should be ten times dimmer if only to prepare our eyes for the onslaught of darkness we’re about to experience. Outside the dining area, the host will instruct you to hold on to the shoulders of the guests in front of you as he guides you through the space to your seats.

This is where my dilemma stems. Five minutes in, seated and unable to situate myself, I already dislike the experience. My eyes scan the room for any sort of light source only to find none—save for a ring of red lights on each of the three security cameras at the corner. Any sliver of light has been banished from the space. Even the fluorescent lights from the staircase earlier had no chance of penetrating this cauldron of black through the use of double curtains at the doors that filter out all light.

It was a claustrophobic experience that heightens my anxiety and feeds on a profoundly personal fear of losing my eyesight. You see, three years ago, I had a minor brush with an eye problem that saw me visiting an eye consultant at Singapore National Eye Centre and a recovery period of close to three months before my eye issues went away. Sitting here in utter and complete darkness terrified me, as my eyes kept going back to those tiny red lights to be certain I could still see.

Still, I am completely cognisant of my privilege in that, unlike the servers, I will and can leave this temporary blindness and go back to a world that is familiar and friendlier to the sight-enabled. Halimi, my host for the evening, was, for the most part, incredible at his job, deftly handing out our plates and drinks with an impeccable familiarity that is, for lack of a better word, impressive. Throughout dinner, he also shared stories of how he came to lose his sight, complete with valuable lessons learned.

Speed of service was another aspect of the experience that I felt could be improved. The Prix Fixe menu (S$88++) is three courses long, with each course presented as four small plates that are easily eaten with either a fork or a spoon—not both. You have to bring the bowls close to your mouth for easy consumption since you won’t know what you’re having, and the risk of spillage is high. There’s also the option of having the Wine Flight (S$30++) or Cocktail Flight (S$50++) as an add-on to your three-course meal. Still, the duration between courses was far too wide, such that I only finished the dinner which started at 7.45 pm at 10 pm.

Thus far, I’ve refrained from commenting on the food because I don’t think anyone should come to NOX expecting a culinary spread that excites, invigorates, and gives pause. Though that shouldn’t stop NOX from trying. The menu promises refined modern European fare but is instead mere rehashes of familiar favourites that are either too creamy and rich or too plain and unexciting.

But, as I mentioned earlier, if you’re here for the food, lowered expectations are simply par for the course. Still, I can’t succinctly recall what I ate—a combination of being too focused on the discomfort of the experience and a menu that is, at best, forgettable.

I struggle to recommend NOX to the regular walk-in diner, at least not without due trigger warnings—I do not recommend this experience to guests prone to anxiety or claustrophobia. It’s a warning that NOX could better explain to guests who wish to make a reservation.

Also, I don’t think there’s a need to be too overly extreme with the recreation of sightlessness, though I completely understand that it comes from an aspiration to authenticity. I reckon the experience can still be fully appreciated with the lights turned down low enough at the precipice of a complete blackout such that only vague outlines can be seen.

People I’ve shared this observation with take personal umbrage at my suggestion, saying it misses the whole point. But I wonder now if the means truly justify the end or if some sort of compromise can be reached such that the lesson on empathy is well and truly learned without alienating a group of diners from the experience. Still, that doesn’t take anything away from what NOX sets out to do. Pending a few tweaks, I’m confident this experiential dining experience will be lapped up by everyone keen to lend support for such a good cause.

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83 Club Street, S069451
Tue to Sun: 6pm – late