A slow, glowing evening at Fiamma, Capella Singapore

The Capella Singapore has always struck me as one of those rare addresses where time loosens its grip. The air itself feels unhurried, softened by the tropical canopy that encloses the property like a generous embrace. Sentosa may be known for its attractions, but tucked inside this lush corner is a very different sort of indulgence. One where food, design, and pacing work together to create a hush.

Fiamma sits at the heart of this atmosphere. It carries the warmth of an Italian kitchen and the poise of a contemporary dining room. The sort of place where the scent of wood fire greets you before the menu does. A few steps away, The Pineapple Room builds an elegant afterglow. Intimate lighting, vintage accents, and cocktails that linger a little longer on the tongue. Together, they form a duo that feels both luxurious and deeply comforting.

This is the kind of experience that reminds you why destination dining remains special. Not for theatrics, but for feeling fully immersed in a setting crafted with care.

A Retreat That Feels Suspended From Reality

Capella’s presence on Sentosa Island is a masterclass in quiet grandeur. The moment you arrive, there is a shift. Mature trees arch overhead. Butterflies occasionally drift across pathways. Colonial buildings sit alongside sculpted modern lines, making the architecture feel like a conversation between eras rather than a clash of styles.

Interiors draw you in with shadows and softness. Plush corners invite lingering. Light is treated like a design element, curated rather than simply switched on. Even before you step into any of the dining spaces, the hotel sets the tone for what is to come. You feel sheltered, and everything seems calibrated to slow your breathing.

Fiamma: An Italian Table Anchored in Fire and Memory

Walking into Fiamma is like arriving in a home where the host has been cooking since the afternoon. The room blends rustic textures with contemporary shapes. Wooden beams add warmth. Rattan and stone soften the lines. The open views of the rainforest and sea create a gentle dialogue between the restaurant and its surroundings.

The centrepiece, of course, is the wood-fired oven. Its quiet crackle serves as the restaurant’s pulse, grounding the dining experience in a primal comfort. Mauro Colagreco’s vision for Fiamma is rooted in childhood memories. Meals are cooked slowly. Ingredients that speak for themselves. Hospitality expressed through abundance rather than ornament.

And that ethos is evident in every plate that arrives at the table.

A Dinner That Moves With Grace

We began with the Carpaccio di Zucca, a dish that looked like autumn laid out on a plate. Sheets of pumpkin and beetroot folded gently into each other, brightened by pomegranate and mint. Black truffle added an earthy whisper that never overwhelmed the freshness. It was delicate, surprising, and quietly confident.

The Burrata d’Autunno was the sort of starter that convinces you to slow your fork. Creamy Puglian burrata rested against braised cabbage and sautéed mushrooms, the vegetables lending depth rather than weight. The contrast of capers and peanuts brought sharpness and crunch, turning each bite into a small textural surprise.

The Crudo di Gambero Rosso di Mazara offered a different kind of pleasure. Silky red prawns seasoned with citrus and a hint of kumquat, tasting of sea breeze and sunshine. Pure, uncluttered, and generously portioned.

We also sampled the Sedanini Cacio e Pepe, a dish that demonstrated how restraint can be its own form of luxury. The sauce coated each tube of pasta with a velvety sharpness, balancing pecorino and pepper in a way that felt indulgent without ever becoming heavy. Alongside it, the New Zealand lamb rack arrived perfectly pink, with a tender, almost buttery texture that paired beautifully with its herb crust. Both dishes expanded the meal beyond the expected signatures and added a fuller sense of the kitchen’s range.

The Tagliatelle all’Astice arrived in a copper pan that shimmered beneath the warm lights. The sauce clung to the ribbons of pasta with just enough richness, each bite mixing the sweetness of blue lobster with the perfume of tarragon. It was indulgent, yet comforting in the way only pasta can be when handled with restraint.

The Carpricio pizza was an ode to Naples. Puffy crust, slight char, soft centre. San Marzano tomatoes formed the base while Fior di Latte melted into velvet. The combination of sausage, smoked mushrooms, and capers from Salina added a smoky brininess that lifted the dish rather than weighing it down.

Dessert was the sort of tiramisu that has no interest in theatrics. It came in a simple ceramic bowl, airy and fragrant, with a caramelised top that cracked delicately like the surface of a crème brûlée. The mascarpone was cloud light, the espresso-soaked biscuit gentle rather than aggressive. It felt familiar and comforting, the way the best tiramisu should.

Final Thoughts: A Place to Savour, Not Rush

Fiamma is not trying to reinvent Italian cuisine. Instead, it focuses on sincerity, technique, and the joy of sharing well-prepared food in a beautiful space. It is a reminder that luxury is not always loud. Sometimes it is a simple bowl of pasta prepared perfectly, or the faint smell of wood fire in the air.

Paired with the serene setting of Capella Singapore, this becomes a destination worth planning an entire evening around. One meal transitions seamlessly into another experience. A dinner becomes a memory.

For anyone visiting Sentosa, Fiamma deserves a slow, unhurried evening. Preferably with someone who understands that good food is best enjoyed without glancing at the clock.