Restaurant Week Singapore kicked off this week and though the concept has been losing steam for the past few editions, I still went ahead and made a few bookings. Losing steam not in terms of the options available, those in fact have grown. If earlier, Restaurant Week only had 30 odd restaurants to choose from, that number has now grown to over 100. But what has suffered in the process is the exclusivity of Restaurant Week.

Traditionally, the concept of Restaurant Week around the globe has been to allow diners to sample restaurants that would ordinarily be out of their budget. Thus, a place with a $200 meal per person would take part in Restaurant Week and offer a three-course menu for $30. The idea being that once you sampled the food, you would be tempted to revisit the restaurant again.

However, with menus that now range from $28 to more than $100, the charm of restaurant week is slowly going away. The menu is often the same price as a set lunch in the said restaurant, removing any distinction of this event.

But I digress. This post is not about Restaurant Week. This post is about the mediocrity that is being tolerated in fine dining restaurants. I understand that there is a lot of money in the world, but to waste it on a meal that doesn’t deserve to be served to anyone looking for a good dining experience is a crime.

Take, for example, my lunch yesterday at a restaurant called Monti. Located next to the iconic Fullerton Bay Hotel, and with an enviable view of Marina Bay Sands and its skyline, it baffles me how Monti has managed to keep its doors open for years in a city where the restaurants struggle to survive despite serving delicious food. Filled with business diners who are possibly not paying for their own meal, the interiors are plush and white tablecloths and tall stem glasses add to the illusion of glamour befitting the views. The experience ends there though.

The food served is so sub-standard, that I feel like kicking myself for going back despite a mediocre experience 5 years ago. The bread served with such aplomb is obviously reheated and not baked fresh as it seizes into a rock as soon as it cools down. The fish is criminally under-cooked, compelling me to leave half of it untouched, and the dessert is a mockery of Magnum which I can get in 7-Eleven for a fraction of the price.

Yet, the restaurant thrives. The glasses clink and the hostess looks at me that I must be the aberration if I don’t like the dining experience here – clearly everyone else does.

Which makes me wonder, why does everyone else? Do they not know that better talent exists in other kitchens? Do they not care as long as they’re not the ones paying the company credit card bills? Or has food become secondary in the dining experience?

Why do we not demand more from sub-par restaurants and offer them our repeated patronage? Why do we waste our time, money and effort for the simple promise of proximity or ambiance?

Why do we tolerate mediocrity? I, for one, am done. If you’re not exceptional, you don’t deserve my patronage, humble as it might be. There are too few meals in this limited lifetime to waste one.

I hereby declare war on mediocrity. Are you with me?