From Palate to Philosophy: Benjamin Tan and the Design of Signature Reserve

How one man’s whisky journey became a blueprint for cultural transformation in Singapore—and beyond.

When Benjamin Tan first tasted whisky, he didn’t fall in love. He paused. He wondered.

Years later, that same curiosity would lead him to co-found Signature Reserve—a bar built not just to serve rare spirits, but to reshape how people approach them.

Set within a six-star hotel yet rooted in grounded intention, Signature Reserve isn’t chasing trends.

It’s crafting something slower, deeper—a space where taste becomes understanding, and drinkers become explorers.

This is the story of how one man turned a personal puzzle into a public pathway.

1. How did Benjamin’s whisky journey begin—and what kept him coming back?

Benjamin’s first encounter with whisky wasn’t romantic.

It was Laphroaig—and it tasted like burnt paper.

He was in the UK at the time, trying to find some warmth in a foreign land, but whisky didn’t offer comfort. It confused him. It repelled him. “I didn’t like it,” he admits, without hesitation. But something about the experience stayed with him—not the taste, but the contradiction. Why did others find this enjoyable? What was he missing?

Later, he tried Macallan 12. This time, he waited—let the ice melt a little, watched the structure shift. And then it happened: the flavor began to rise, gently. It wasn’t dramatic, but it changed something. “There’s more to this than I thought,” he realized. That moment didn’t ignite obsession, but it opened a door.

Years passed. He returned to Singapore. Whisky returned too—quietly, at dinners with friends and colleagues. Not yet a mission, but something he kept returning to, week after week. He didn’t chase rare bottles. He chased understanding. Each dram wasn’t a prize—it was a puzzle. A new angle. A different silence.

What kept him coming back wasn’t a specific flavor. It was the realization that whisky was a map—and he had only seen one corner of it.

And if he was going to read it, he’d need to learn the language.

2. What turned a private habit into a public purpose?

At first, whisky was just a personal thread—something Benjamin wove into his weekly rhythm. It didn’t ask much from him, and he didn’t expect much in return. But as time passed, patterns began to emerge: certain bottles stirred more questions than answers. Some sparked long debates among friends; others left behind a quiet, lingering thought.

He began to notice that not everyone enjoyed whisky the same way. Some loved it, but didn’t understand it. Others wanted to understand, but didn’t know where to begin. There were too many unopened bottles and too many unfinished conversations. So he wondered: what if people could explore together—intentionally, not randomly?

That was the seed of something bigger.

In 2014, he and a partner started discussing a tasting club—not to show off, but to share. They knew not every bottle was for everyone. So why not build a space where people could try first, then decide? It wasn’t about curation—it was about giving people a chance to form their own palate.

Then came the travels. The bars in other countries. The conversations with bartenders, collectors, strangers-turned-guides. The more he explored, the clearer the gap became—not in selection, but in orientation. Too many people were drinking without direction. Too many stories were told, but not translated.

That’s when Benjamin’s lens shifted.

Whisky was no longer just a thing to enjoy.

It became a thing to organize, explain, and pass on.

Not a collection—but a curriculum.

3. Why did Benjamin create Signature Reserve—and what does the name really signify?

Signature Reserve wasn’t born from a spreadsheet, or even from a dream.

It was born from an opening—a literal one.

During the uncertainties of COVID, an opportunity emerged: a six-star hotel in Singapore was looking for a bar. Not just a tenant, but a partner—someone who could bring in not just bottles, but intention. The hotel wanted an experience, not a concept. And Benjamin knew he had more than enough experience to offer.

Still, it wasn’t an obvious yes. The timing was strange. The world was still hesitant. But he saw the chance to reframe what a “hotel bar” could mean. Instead of being a convenient detour, could it become a destination? A space where both seasoned connoisseurs and curious newcomers could find something real?

The name—Signature Reserve—didn’t come from branding strategy.

It came from a promise.

Not of prestige, but of intentionality.

“Signature” wasn’t just about exclusivity—it was about authorship.

What they serve here isn’t random. It’s selected, structured, and—soon—bottled under their own name.

“Reserve” wasn’t just about rarity—it was about holding space. A space for stories, for slowness, for rediscovery.

The name, like the bar itself, is just the beginning.

Twelve exclusive casks are already in the works. Signature cocktails using only premium spirits—not to dazzle, but to invite a different kind of attention.

It’s not a bar that wants to impress you.

It’s a bar that wants to change what you expect.

4. Why does Benjamin believe whisky education needs better design?

In Benjamin’s eyes, the problem isn’t that people don’t drink whisky.

It’s that too many drink without understanding.

In Singapore, he jokes, “Ask ten people if they like whisky, and eight will say yes.” But probe deeper—ask them what style, which cask, what makes that bottle different—and most can’t explain. Not because they lack curiosity, but because they’ve never been offered a way to make sense of it all.

That’s what bothers Benjamin—not the ignorance, but the absence of structure.

Whisky today is full of noise: marketing, speculation, chasing trends. Casks are sold like stocks. Bottles are bought without ever being opened. People collect before they connect.

But to him, whisky isn’t a trophy.

It’s a language.

And every language needs a grammar.

So at Signature Reserve, he’s not just pouring rare bottles—he’s designing pathways. From six or seven samples, he can watch a guest discover what they actually like, what they don’t, what surprises them. And once someone makes that first informed choice, something shifts: the guessing stops. The understanding begins.

He calls it a T-shape approach:

First, go wide—try different styles, regions, finishes.

Then go deep—zoom in on one distillery, one cask type, one era.

It’s not about drinking more.

It’s about drinking with orientation.

For Benjamin, whisky education isn’t about teaching facts.

It’s about building confidence—one tasting at a time.

5. What does it really take to run a whisky bar—with both heart and hands?

People see the shelves, the lighting, the curated list of rare bottles—and they imagine elegance.

But behind the scenes, Benjamin sees something else: spreadsheets, rotas, supplier calls, and team welfare meetings. “This bar isn’t run on magic,” he says with a small smile. “It’s run on manpower—and trust.”

Running Signature Reserve isn’t about putting whisky on a pedestal. It’s about putting in the work. Every bottle has to justify its shelf space—not just by name, but by how it fits the experience he’s trying to design. Every team member has to be trained not just in service, but in sensitivity—how to read a guest, how to guide without condescension.

And then there’s the pricing. Some guests say it’s expensive.

Benjamin doesn’t deny it.

But he invites them to look deeper.

“This isn’t a markup game,” he says. “We have people to feed. We have careers to build.”

He’s not interested in being the cheapest bar. He’s interested in being the most honest about what quality takes—and what hospitality deserves.

Because for all the romance around whisky, bars don’t run on poetry.

They run on decisions.

And to Benjamin, each one is a negotiation between idealism and sustainability.

He still remembers the question that changed his own mindset:

“Are you opening this bar out of passion—or as a business?”

His answer today is simple:

“Yes. Both.”

But he knows each comes with a cost. And he’s willing to pay it.

6. What has whisky taught Benjamin—about perception, learning, and the art of response?

To Benjamin, whisky is more than a drink.

It’s a diagnostic tool.

Pour someone a dram, and you’ll see things—not just about the whisky, but about the person. How they react. What they notice. Whether they ask questions. Whether they judge too quickly, or wait and let it open up.

“The whisky doesn’t change,” he says. “They do.”

This is what years of tasting have taught him: people don’t drink whisky the same way they live—but they often revealhow they live when they drink. Some reach for what’s familiar. Some chase what’s hyped. Some freeze when they don’t know what to say. And occasionally, someone surprises even themselves—liking something they assumed they’d hate.

That’s when he knows something important is happening.

Whisky becomes a mirror—not just of taste, but of temperament.

It shows whether you’re reacting, or responding.

Whether you’re clinging to what you know, or ready to let go and explore.

And it doesn’t stop with the guest.

Benjamin sees it in himself too: how he once over-relied on vintage prestige. How he learned to set aside bias. How he began to enjoy the unknown. In whisky—and in life—the better question isn’t “Do I like this?” but “What does this teach me about how I choose?”

He doesn’t try to impress this on his guests.

Instead, he designs space for that recognition to occur—quietly, organically.

Because the best learning doesn’t come from lectures.

It comes from moments when something tastes different—and you realize you’re different, too.

7. What kind of whisky culture does Benjamin hope to cultivate—for Singapore and beyond?

Benjamin isn’t trying to make Signature Reserve the most exclusive bar in Singapore.

He’s trying to make it the most transformative.

In a market where whisky often becomes a status object or an investment vehicle, he’s pushing for something quieter—but more enduring: a culture built on discernment. Not just knowing what’s expensive, but understanding what resonates. Not just chasing the rare, but tasting with clarity and confidence.

He wants people to go beyond liking whisky—to becoming literate in it.

For newcomers, that means feeling welcome, not intimidated.

For drinkers, that means evolving into thinkers.

For his team, that means learning to guide, not gatekeep.

And for the industry? That means resisting shortcuts—those easy casks, trendy labels, formulaic experiences. He believes Singapore doesn’t need more whisky bars.

It needs more whisky interpretation spaces.

That’s what Signature Reserve is trying to prototype:

A bar as school.

A bar as dialogue.

A bar as long-term interface for taste, trust, and time.

The vision goes beyond these walls. Exclusive bottlings are coming. Collaborations. Quiet ripples that suggest: you don’t need to follow the global whisky trend—you can shape one. Locally, intentionally, and with integrity.

In a way, Benjamin isn’t just curating spirits.

He’s curating a way of learning how to care about something.

And that—he hopes—is a culture worth exporting.

Endnote

Not every bar wants to change the way people think.

But Benjamin Tan isn’t just pouring whisky—he’s pouring structure into culture.

And in the quiet clink of glasses, he’s asking a different kind of question:

What if how we drink could change how we learn?

Writer - Aukingfai

Appendix:

• Signature Reserve Home Page: https://www.signaturereserve.com.sg/