Why I Keep Going Back to This Spanish Restaurant in Singapore’s CBD

I wasn’t planning to write about Vino Tinto. Not at first, anyway.

The thing is, I’ve been there six times now in three months. Which is weird for me because I usually rotate through restaurants. Singapore’s got too many good options to become a regular anywhere. Yet here I am, back at One Raffles Quay again, ordering the same gambas al ajillo I’ve had twice before.

So what’s happening here?

How This Started

My colleague insisted we try this place for lunch back in October. She’d heard about it from someone in her networking group. “Proper Spanish food,” she said. “Not the watered-down stuff.”

I remember thinking, yeah, sure. Every new restaurant claims to be authentic. Then you show up and it’s just generic Mediterranean with a Spanish name slapped on.

But I was hungry and One Raffles Quay is ridiculously convenient from our office, so whatever. Let’s try it.

First impression? The greeting. “Hola!” Not forced. Not like someone doing a character at a theme restaurant. Just warm. Natural. The kind of welcome that makes you relax immediately.

We sat down. Looked at the menu. And this is where things got interesting.

The Menu That Made Me Pay Attention

Most Spanish restaurants in Singapore have the same predictable lineup. Paella. Chorizo. Some jamón if you’re lucky. Maybe sangria. That’s about it.

Vino Tinto Spanish restaurant has actual depth to their menu. Like, someone clearly knows Spanish regional cuisine beyond the tourist hits.

They’ve got tostas with Spanish anchovies, burrata, crushed tomatoes, and dried figs. Pulpo al brasa with chipotle mayo and toasted migas. Fideuá negra with squid ink. These aren’t dishes you find everywhere. These are things you’d encounter travelling through Spain, not just visiting Barcelona for a long weekend.

We ordered conservatively that first time. Shared some patatas fritas and the broken omelette with organic mushrooms and smoked cheese. Safe choices. Testing the waters.

The potatoes arrived with both tartar mayo and romesco sauce. Small detail, but it registered. Most places give you one sauce and call it done. Having options meant someone was thinking about how different people like to eat.

The omelette, though. That’s what convinced me to come back.

It wasn’t trying too hard. Just organic mushrooms, smoked Idiazabal cheese, Spanish onions, parsley oil, and potato chips. Simple components executed really well. The eggs were properly cooked. The mushrooms had actual flavour. The cheese added this subtle smokiness that made everything more interesting.

My colleague looked at me halfway through and said, “This is actually good.” Which is high praise from her because she’s annoyingly particular about food.

The Second Visit Changed Things

I went back the following week. This time for dinner with friends who were visiting from Melbourne.

One of them is Spanish. Born in Madrid, moved to Australia for work. Very opinionated about Spanish food. You know the type. If you serve him bad paella, he’ll let you know. Loudly.

I was slightly nervous suggesting Vino Tinto. What if it was a fluke? What if lunch quality doesn’t carry over to dinner?

We started with gambas al ajillo because you can’t have a Spanish meal without prawns in garlic oil. That’s just science.

These arrived sizzling. Literally. The prawns swimming in roasted garlic oil with dried chilli, garlic chips, and this light potato purée underneath. The smell alone was fantastic.

My Spanish friend took one bite. Paused. Took another. Then looked up and said, “This is proper.”

Coming from him? That meant something.

We ordered more. The ceviche canchita with market fish, classic tiger’s milk, red onions, and sweet potato. The pescaditos (crispy baby smelt fish) with Catalan romesco sauce. Some grilled asparagus with romesco and Manchego.

Everything worked. Nothing felt like it was there just to fill menu space.

Then we got ambitious and ordered the Paella de Pulpo y Chorizo. Grilled octopus, pork chorizo sausage, chickpeas, fava beans, Mediterranean spices. The works.

Here’s the thing about paella. It’s deceptively difficult. Rice cooking is unforgiving. You need that socarrat, the crispy layer at the bottom, without burning anything. The timing has to be perfect or you end up with mush or crunchy grains.

This paella nailed it. The rice had texture. The octopus was tender without being rubbery (which is harder than it sounds). The chorizo added fat and spice without overwhelming everything else. The piquillo pepper aioli tied it together.

My Spanish friend approved. Which meant I could finally relax and just enjoy the meal.

Why I Keep Coming Back

So that’s two visits explained. But six?

Part of it’s convenience. I work nearby. When lunch options nearby are mostly chains or generic Asian fusion, having a proper Spanish place matters more than you’d think.

But there’s more to it than location.

The wine list keeps pulling me back. I’m not a wine expert, but I’m trying to learn more about Spanish wines specifically. According to Wine Folly, Spain has over 70 wine regions, each with completely different characteristics. That’s intimidating when you’re starting out.

Vino Tinto makes it manageable. They’ve got this massive selection of Spanish wines, genuinely the biggest I’ve found in the CBD. But more importantly, the staff actually know what they’re talking about. Not in a snobby way. In a helpful way.

Last time I asked about Priorat wines. The server explained the region, suggested the Humilitat 2019 from Franck Massard, described why Garnacha from that area tastes different from other regions. Then poured me a small taste before committing to a glass.

That kind of service matters when you’re trying to expand your wine knowledge. I’ve learned more about Spanish wines from visiting Vino Tinto than from hours of reading online.

They’ve got house pours that don’t suck. The Muga Reserva 2019 is S$22 per glass (before service charge and GST), which isn’t cheap but also isn’t crazy for a quality Rioja. It’s got this nice balance of red fruits, hints of liquorice and chocolate, silky tannins. The kind of wine that makes you slow down and actually taste what you’re drinking.

The Business Lunch Discovery

My fourth visit was for a business lunch. Different context entirely.

Our team needed somewhere to take a potential client. Somewhere impressive but not pretentious. Good food but reasonable prices. Close to the office but not obviously corporate.

Tricky combination.

Vino Tinto’s Business Set Lunch is S$46++ per person. You get two tapas, one main, dessert. We could all order different things but end up paying the same amount, which eliminates awkward price comparison dynamics.

I got the mushroom croquettes and cherry tomato salad to start. Both vegetarian because I was trying to be slightly healthy. The croquettes had this light hummus, Idiazabal cheese, and mushroom oil that somehow made fried food feel almost virtuous. The salad was mesclun greens, burrata, grapes, migas, balsamic vinaigrette. Proper ingredients, not sad lettuce with token tomatoes.

For mains, I chose the Pescado. Crispy skin seabass, light potato purée, green petit salad, Mediterranean tomato caper sauce. My colleagues got the Seafood Noodle Paella Fideuá and the Chicken Paella. One person upgraded to the Australian Wagyu for an extra S$10.

The client seemed impressed. Not just with the food, which was excellent, but with the whole experience. The pacing was right. Service was attentive without hovering. We could actually have a conversation without shouting over loud music or feeling rushed.

The mini Tres Leches for dessert sealed it. Moist coconut cake, mixed berries, vanilla pastry cream. Just sweet enough to feel like a treat without being heavy enough to make you sleepy for afternoon meetings.

We got the deal. I’d like to think our business proposal was strong, but the lunch probably didn’t hurt.

When Details Actually Matter

You know how some restaurants clearly don’t think through the small things? Like they’ll serve you amazing mains but the bread basket is an afterthought? Or the coffee’s terrible? Those disconnects bother me.

Vino Tinto sweats the details.

The tostas de pan con tomate are S$9 for four pieces of crystal bread toasts with crushed tomatoes and garlic oil. That’s it. Simple. But the bread’s actually crispy. The tomatoes taste fresh. The garlic oil’s been properly infused, not just garlic thrown into oil five minutes before service.

When something that basic is executed well, it signals that everything else will be too.

Same with the padron peppers. They come with light hummus, Marcona almonds, smoked paprika oil, and Maldon salt. You can tell someone’s thought about texture (the crunch of almonds against soft peppers), temperature (warm peppers, cool hummus), and flavour layers (smoke, salt, earthiness).

These aren’t revolutionary dishes. They’re just done properly, which is rarer than it should be.

The Cocktail Situation

Fifth visit was after work drinks with friends.

I’m not usually a cocktail person at Spanish restaurants. Wine makes more sense with the food. But Vino Tinto’s cocktail list looked interesting enough to try.

Their signature Vino Tinto G&T caught my attention. Gin, fresh herbs, citrus, dry tonic. Spanish-style gin tonics are a whole thing in Spain, apparently. They treat them like craft cocktails rather than throwaway drinks.

This one delivered. It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t trying to hide mediocre gin behind sugar and fruit juice. Just clean, refreshing, properly balanced. The kind of drink that makes you order another.

We also tried the Red Sangria. Which I was sceptical about because sangria’s usually terrible. Either too sweet or too weak or both. This version used actual red wine (not boxed rubbish), Quebranta pisco, fresh fruits, and vermouth. You could taste the wine. The fruit added character without dominating. It felt like something made carefully, not batch-mixed at the start of service.

The Pisco Sour was properly made too. Pisco Quebranta, homemade citrus, Angostura bitters, foam. I’ve had Pisco Sours in Lima that weren’t much better than this.

What Makes It Actually Spanish

I keep using the word authentic, which probably needs explaining.

Lots of restaurants claim authenticity. Then you look closer and realise they’re just borrowing vague Spanish themes whilst serving generic Mediterranean food. That’s not the same thing.

Real Spanish cuisine respects regional traditions and proper techniques. It uses specific ingredients because those ingredients matter, not because they’re trendy.

Vino Tinto uses bomba rice for paellas. That’s the rice from Valencia that absorbs liquid differently than other varieties. It creates the texture that makes paella taste right. They use actual Spanish saffron, not cheap substitutes.

The ibérico ham platter features genuine Spanish ibérico ham. The Manchego is real Manchego from La Mancha, not just any sheep’s milk cheese labelled Manchego-style.

These distinctions seem small until you taste the difference. Then they seem essential.

The fideuás (paellas made with short pasta instead of rice) showcase this attention to authenticity. The Fideuá Negra arrives dramatically black from squid ink, topped with crispy calamari, served with piquillo pepper aioli. It looks theatrical but the flavour justifies the presentation. The pasta has absorbed the squid ink properly. The calamari’s actually crispy, not soggy. Everything works together.

Location Luck

One Raffles Quay is just convenient. There’s no other way to put it.

Marina Bay’s transformed into this whole dining destination over the past few years. You’ve got waterfront views, the CBD right there, decent parking if you’re driving, easy MRT access if you’re not.

For evening dining, this location’s perfect. After work crowds flow in naturally. Weekend visits feel special because you’re dining where Singapore’s skyline does its thing.

The area’s got enough energy to feel vibrant without being chaotic. You can have a conversation without shouting. Walk along the waterfront after dinner without navigating tourist hordes.

Plus, let’s be honest, when you’re coordinating with friends or colleagues who work in different parts of Singapore, suggesting Marina Bay eliminates the “where should we meet” debate. Everyone knows how to get there.

My Sixth Visit

Last week I went alone. Sat at the bar. Ordered the pulpo al brasa and a glass of the Camins del Priorat 2022.

The octopus was chargrilled perfectly. Served with chipotle mayo, grapes, toasted migas, smoked paprika oil. The combination of smoke, spice, and sweetness from the grapes worked surprisingly well.

The wine (Garnacha, Cariñena, Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, and Syrah from Priorat) had this bright, silky quality that complemented the octopus without competing with it.

I sat there for an hour. Just eating slowly, sipping wine, watching the kitchen work. Nobody rushed me. Nobody hovered. Just let me enjoy the experience at my own pace.

That’s when I realised why I keep coming back. It’s not just the food or the wine or the location, though those all matter. It’s that Vino Tinto Spanish restaurant understands that dining should feel welcoming, not stressful. Good, not pretentious. Authentic, not performative.

Sometimes that’s exactly what you need.

Worth Your Time?

Look, Singapore’s packed with excellent restaurants. You’ve got options. Lots of them.

But if you want proper Spanish food without flying to Spain? If you’re curious about Spanish wines beyond the basic Riojas everyone knows? If you need somewhere convenient for business lunches that doesn’t feel boring?

Then yeah. It’s worth your time.

I’ve been six times in three months. I’ll probably go back next week.

That tells you something.