The Prince’s Kitchen Chronicles: A Day in the Life
- Fat Prine
- Jun 19
- 4 min read

It starts quietly.
The front doors are still locked. Outside, Tanjong Pagar is yawning awake—coffee runs, office workers passing by in earbuds and blazers. Inside The Prince, the dining room is soft with morning light, and the kitchen is already moving.
By 10:30am, the soundtrack is clean and calm: the flick of a pilot flame, the quick tap of a spoon on the edge of a saucepot, the rustle of herbs being trimmed. It’s not glamorous, but it’s steady. Prep is underway. The first pita dough has risen. Chickpeas are being blended into hummus. There’s garlic in the air and yoghurt on the counter, just thick enough to hold a swirl of olive oil.
It may not look like much, but it’s what makes the magic happen.
A Familiar Rhythm at Midday
By noon, it’s a different restaurant.
Sunlight pours through the front windows. There’s a small queue at the host stand. Office lunch groups shuffle in, half on phones, half already hungry. Two tables are regulars—they know the drill. Another is a first-timer, walking in from a list they found after searching for affordable set lunch Singapore.
Plates start landing fast. Mezze first—cool, fresh, light. Then mains, passed across the table. There’s a satisfying rhythm to it. One dish down, the next arrives. A quiet glance between colleagues: “This is better than where we went last week.”

Our set lunch in Singapore has become a staple not because it’s trying to be flashy—but because it’s dependable. Satisfying. It shows up. Just like the team behind the pass who made sure every sauce was right, every garnish where it should be.
There’s not much chatter in the kitchen during lunch. Just a clean flow. Skewers down. Salad dressed. Bread out of the oven.
And then it’s 2:45pm. Just like that, lunch is over. The restaurant breathes again.

Between the Shifts
This is the part guests never see.
Service slows. Music drops. The kitchen team cleans down and eats. Some scroll their phones. Others make quiet tweaks to mise en place, already thinking about dinner. What needs topping up. What needs reworking. What the guests might ask for.
At the bar, someone’s polishing glassware while chatting with the prep cook. The dining room feels peaceful—like a pause before the next scene.
Even during the quietest hour, there’s motion. Behind the scenes, The Prince doesn’t stop.

When It Feels Like a Table at Home
Evening shifts at The Prince have their own tempo.
Lights dim. Candles flicker. Glasses clink. Tables get pulled together for a birthday. There’s laughter on the mezzanine level, and clinking forks at the two-top by the window. A couple orders a round of mezze and lingers over wine. At another table, a family of four is finishing their last course, passing spoons back and forth over dessert.

This is what dinner looks like here: comforting, generous, relaxed.
The kitchen’s busier than ever—but it doesn’t look it. Orders are called cleanly. Plates come out in pace. A line cook slides a tray of lamb skewers across the pass and wipes down the counter before calling next. No chaos. Just flow.
This isn’t fine dining. It’s middle eastern food in Singapore, served in a way that makes you want to stay longer than you planned.
And you can tell people are enjoying themselves—because no one’s rushing out.

Mornings Made for Brunch
Weekend mornings arrive differently.
They start late. Our first guests wander in just past 11, sunglasses on, still easing into the day—ready for eggs and coffee, but not quite conversation. Some are couples who slept in. Others are groups of friends settling into their Saturday slowly, already halfway through their first laugh.
Brunch at The Prince feels slower. Lighter. It’s built for lingering.
Tables order coffees first. Then juices. Then slowly—very slowly—food. Halloumi and eggs. Fluffy pita. Date-sweetened sauces and spiced tomato. Some dishes feel familiar, others don’t. But no one’s rushing to decide.

And that’s the beauty of it. Brunch here isn’t about reinventing anything. It’s about feeling like the morning belongs to you.
You might find us on a roundup of Turkish cuisine Singapore or listed as a recommended middle eastern restaurant Singapore, but we’re not thinking about that while pouring mint tea and plating labneh.
We’re thinking about how to make someone’s slow morning feel really, really good.

Every Day Feels a Little Different
This isn’t a restaurant chasing trends. It’s not loud for the sake of it, and it doesn’t overpromise. It just does the work. Preps properly. Serves honestly. And adapts as it goes.
Some nights are loud and buzzy. Others are soft and steady. Some lunch shifts move fast, others feel like everyone in the room showed up just to catch their breath. And then there are those moments—during a long brunch, or a family dinner—when everything slows, and it feels like time stretched.
That’s the kind of place The Prince is. Familiar, but never static.
Whether you’re searching for restaurants in Tanjong Pagar to try something new, or just returning for another relaxed lunch, we’re here. The food’s good. The energy is easy. And behind it all is a team doing their work quietly, thoughtfully, every day.
