Only Slightly Pretentious Food

Review: Desire

2009-12-08T22:05:00.017+08:00

Everybody loves a gimmick. The people behind Desire, the restaurant of the boutique Scarlet Hotel, clearly do, because that's the theme of the restaurant: from menu, to decor, to the names of courses, everything revolves around the idea of temptation, sin, lust, and other carnal pleasures, as you can see below.

The S&M bordello theme is not exactly very subtle, but whatever works, right?

The "Stimulus Package" is Desire's extremely seductive and alluring set lunch menu: at $24 for two courses and $30 for three courses, it is priced at a very substantial discount to the restaurant's a la carte menu (the "Book of Desire"), where main courses can cost in excess of $40.

For starters, I had the baked portobello mushroom, which was topped with an egg cooked sous vide and finished with some melted cheese. Having cooked something similar myself, this is a good combination of ingredients: the neutral-tasting, meaty mushroom is enriched by the poached egg and complemented by the salty, tangy cheese, though I felt that given the richness of the egg yolk and cheese, the dish would have benefitted from a drizzle of balsamic vinegar to lift it with some viscous sweetness and cut through all that fat with some acidity.

The tomato soup was a bright, cheerful orange, carrying an intense flavour of ripened, sweet tomatoes, despite the fact that the pulverised seeds had not been completely strained out. A bit on the thick side, the soup is best enjoyed together with the warm, crusty somewhat hollow bread the restaurant serves.

My duck leg confit cooked sous vide evidently did not survive the cooking process unscathed, as it looked rather battered on the plate, with the skin broken in several places. Nonetheless, it was quite tasty (although the skin could have been further crisped), and served with a zesty sauce that contained some orange juice, which helped to cut through some of the oiliness. The duck leg wasn't too large, which was just right for a lunch portion, and had been slow-cooked to tenderness.

The char-grilled beef fillet was another winner: the scorch marks lending a smokey flavour to the meat, which was nicely rounded off by the rich red wine sauce. The potatoes had been initially roasted, then gently cooked in red wine, which removed some of the crunchy exterior on the potatoes, but left them with a hint of tannins.

Dessert for me was a white chocolate cheesecake which was served with a scoop of what might have been green tea ice cream. I'm not overly fond of cheesecakes, so this petite portion was enough for me. I imagine this would have satisfied serious cheesecake afficionados.

The other dessert option was a fresh berry crepe served with lemon sorbet (which my father requested be substituted with vanilla ice cream). Confit (incidentally, how does one use a French word that is already in the past tense in an English sentence to express a past tense? Confit-ed?) strawberries and blueberries were wrapped in a soft crepe and doused in a syrupy orange sauce. A little too sweet, but otherwise enjoyable for those who like berries.

If you work in town, set lunch at Desire may be a good idea - service is friendly and efficient, portions aren't huge, the price is right, and the ambience, even if a little over the top, will ensure that you have something to talk about over lunch. No surprise that the restaurant has enjoyed a favourable word of mouth reputation as well as formal recognition as one of Wine and Dine's top restaurants of 2008.

Desire
33 Erskine Road
The Scarlet Hotel
Tel: +65 6511 3323
Website

Review: Braise

2009-12-07T23:02:00.016+08:00

When I was young, I hated going to Sentosa for school outings. I thought it was a glorified landfill that had been created solely for the tacky purposes of national education and tourist promotion. In my teen years, Sentosa became identified with beach parties and an almost rebellious counter-culture.

These days, however, Sentosa has become a destination of choice, boasting scenic hotels set among tranquil forestry, golf courses, luxury villas and a gamut of activities. Once the integrated resort is completed it will become even more interesting, and an awesome vertical wind tunnel is currently under construction. Increasingly, Sentosa is also becoming a venue for good food: Il Lido set up shop, and all the hotels have their own attached restaurants. It seems that, contrary to what I said in my review of Il Lido, there may be many reasons to go all the way to Sentosa for a meal.

One such reason is Braise, a restaurant that has been on my radar ever since it opened to decent reviews a few years ago, but that I'd forgotten about for a while. That is, until I tried to make a booking for dinner a month ago, only to find that it had been fully booked. My curiosity piqued, I was determined to see what made it so popular.

Somewhat unexpectedly for a beachfront restaurant, Braise had a dress code that frowned on open-toed slippers, even for ladies, and so my date and I were relegated to the other end of the restaurant, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise, as the tables there had table lamps which were much more conducive to photography.

The tables we were seated at were also located next to a long koi pond, and were also across from the kitchen, allowing us to watch the culinary team helmed by Chef Desmond Lee in action - a poor man's chef's table, if you will.

Service at Braise is very good: the waitstaff, watched over by the friendly and excellent Operations Manager Ms Azrah Ang, are warm and observant - I never had to ask for a refill of water, and I was informed that mains were on their way without having to inquire if there had been a delay with the food.

As for the food, Braise specialises in contemporary modern European cuisine, much like its sister restaurant, Ember.

We started with an amuse-bouche of cured salmon, sitting on a dill mayonnaise and topped with diced peppers. The dish worked well: served chilled to accentuate the taste of the fish, already enhanced by the curing process, with a sweetness coming from the peppers and mayonnaise, the latter of which also served as a sort of sauce to contrast the soft texture of the salmon.

My lobster bisque with lobster ceviche and croutons ($20) was very comforting: throat-warming with a robust, umami flavour achieved by extracting every last drop of essence from the shells of lobsters. Again, the texture contrast with the crunchy croutons is a good idea.

I thought my date could have done with an additional scallop in her capellini with seared Hokkaido scallops ($24), although the pasta was faultless. Braise seems to favour using capellini as a side in many of their dishes, which means that for those with small appetites, a starter can pass for a main course.

My main course of venison loin with sauteed spaetzle and wilted spinach ($36) was quite marvellous. More strongly flavoured than beef, I was particularly impressed that the chef had managed to cook the meat to a perfect medium doneness despite its relative thinness. You'd think that doneness is the most basic thing to get right, but an astonishing number of restaurants have great difficulty getting it right, especially when the meat is thin. I've not eaten fried spaetzle before, and they seem essentially to be fried bits of flour, but they went well with the meat, as did the wilted spinach, which lost most of its subtle bitterness to become a healthy accompaniment to the venison.

My date, having declined to replace the capellini in her main course, found the cod with spiced crust, capellini and sabayon of grain mustard ($36) too rich to finish, which was unsurprising, given that cod is naturally oily. Apart from that, however, I thought it was an interesting dish: you don't often see fish paired with pasta. The mustard sauce, although heavy, was not at all harsh or overpowering, having been cooked down to a mellow, almost sweet, nutty sauce that flavoured and coated the pasta. The fish was fresh and well-cooked, easily falling apart when teased with a fork.

I ordered a grand marnier souffle with banana ice cream ($17), which came with slices of bruleed bananas. The grand marnier was not very strong, which was fine by me, and some dark chocolate had been added to the base of the souffle, resulting in a chocolatey surprise when you dug into the souffle. Apart from being slightly undercooked, the souffle was quite enjoyable when eaten with the mild banana ice cream.

Braise is one of the better restaurants on Sentosa, which explains its fairly high prices. The restaurant also offers a three course set lunch at $38, as well as a three course set dinner at $70, and a five course set dinner at $90. Perhaps not prices that justify dining there every weekend, but when coupled with the good food and service, may just be worth saving up for.

Braise
60 Palawan Beach Walk, Level 2
Tel: +65 6271 1929
Email
Website
Closed Mondays

Review: Alba Italian Restaurant

2009-12-01T10:50:00.016+08:00

Les Artistes Bistrot, run by the good people of Nicolas Le Restaurant, has closed for the time being, and is to be relocated somewhat further afield, in order not to adversely compete with its larger sibling. In its place, however, is Alba, an Italian restaurant helmed by a Japanese chef.

The restaurant is not very large, seating about 30 people. There is a private room available that can seat about 10, but given the small size of the place, I would have thought that economically it makes more sense to put in more tables, rather than waste the space on a private room that will probably not be used regularly.

Bold uses of ochre on the walls is mirrored and enhanced by the paintings, which are all pretty earthy, depicting pastoral and bucolic scenery in deep hues of red and orange. Rather Mediterranean, actually, which I suppose was the effect they were going for.

The complimentary amuse-bouche was a ravioli of crabmeat, dyed green with chevril, with an emulsion of green asparagus. Light, fresh and verdant, it was a great way to start the meal and a good display of the chef's deftness in working with the delicate crab pasta.

There was no choice as to appetiser, since they ran out of the other option, but the slow-cooked gratineed scallops with a tomato base scented with garlic and lady's finger were an unusual offering. A melange of textures (the crunch of the gratineed bread crumbs, the soft firmness of the scallops and the mouth-coating liquidity of the tomato sauce) was matched by a medley of tastes: sweet, savoury, piquant (not really a taste but who's counting)... As with the crab ravioli, this dish was light and surprising.

The dish that really surprised me, however, was my tagliatelle served with a ragu of kurobuta pork. I've made bolognese sauce with minced pork instead of minced beef, and it was extremely unconvincing and totally unenjoyable, so I had grave doubts about a pork ragu. However, I needn't have worried: the flavour was intense and incredibly rich, with a dense, heavy reduction that was so strong it could easily have passed for beef stock.

The prawn linguine was somewhat less impressive, I was told, but it's not a very risky dish, so it's slightly unrealistic to expect magnificent rewards.

Dessert was also creative - what appeared to be the run of the mill molten chocolate cake turned out to be a chocolate gelee instead. Something of a hybrid between a mousse and jelly, the chocolate was slightly bitter, which went well with the sweet vanilla ice cream.

I'm fond of having Italian food for lunch, as pastas strike just the right balance between being light enough not to put you into a post-lunch stupor, and being substantial enough that you don't leave the table still feeling hungry. Alba demonstrates an innovative and unconventional approach to Italian food that adds an extra layer of enjoyment, and one that ensures that you will have a meal that you can tell your friends and colleagues about.

Alba Italian Restaurant
35 Keong Saik Road
Tel: +65 6224 1501
Closed for lunch on Saturdays, and closed all day Sundays

Review: Osvaldo

2009-11-28T11:26:00.023+08:00

There's been a dearth of new reviews recently because publicity about new restaurants seems to have dried up, and for some reason I've not been that keen to eat out at restaurants that are not exactly new but that I've not yet visited.

To celebrate a cousin's birthday, however, we made a reservation at Osvaldo, a newish Italian restaurant opened by Osvaldo Forlino, the chef formerly of the eponymous Forlino. Located in Tanjong Pagar at the revitalised Maxwell Chambers, Osvaldo is the new favourite restaurant among the bankers, lawyers and other professionals in that part of town. The restaurant was packed, which was unsurprising for a Friday night, but I've been told a reservation is essential even at lunch.

Given Osvaldo Forlino's culinary CV, a comparison with Forlino is inevitable, though somewhat misleading. Unlike Forlino, Osvaldo exudes a much more casual charm - copper pots and pans adorn the walls, and large glass panes allow you to look directly into the kitchen as the chefs prepare the evening's meal. Osvaldo himself is constantly mingling among the diners, adding a personal and personable warmth to your dining experience and contributing to the energy and liveliness of the place, ensuring that dinner is never a staid, formal affair. The restaurant therefore has a much more family-style trattoria feel to it, something which also expresses itself in the food, which is much simpler and more rustic than the offerings at Forlino, but certainly not, simply by virtue of that fact, inferior.

As befits family-style dining, we ordered a series of appetisers to share, and individual main courses.

The fresh burrata was almost to die for: an enormous bag of ivory cheese surrounded by beautiful pink ripples of parma ham. Silky smooth on the outside, with curds of mozzarella on the inside, the cheese was creamy and luscious, and demolished quickly.

Bruschetta - the classic Italian starter - were also good: crusty toasted crostinis topped high with diced tomatoes that were bursting with sweetness, and flavoured with a generous sprinkling of fresh basil. Simplicity itself, and lovely for it.

Unfortunately, no one ordered a pizza as a main, but the spicy salami pizza we shared as an appetiser was very tasty and suitably thin-crusted, though a little wet from the oil extruded by the cheese and salami.

The main courses were almost uniformly pastas, as someone had told me that Osvaldo's pastas were particularly yummy.

There was a prawn linguine, which looked somewhat plain, though it seems to have been well-received.

The special of the day was vongole, which were easily transformed into a spaghetti alle vongole. My mother seemed to enjoy this, and she is known to be very demanding when it comes to vongole.

The spaghetti carbonara also passed muster, according to I., who declared that carbonara, though a simple dish, is often mishandled by restaurants.

Osvaldo's duck tagliatelle was delicious: the pasta was drenched in a dark, rich sauce that could easily have been something meatier, such as venison. I thought the pasta was slightly overcooked, though given that I was having leftovers, that may have simply have been due to the fact that the noodles had been sitting in hot sauce for fifteen minutes.

Regular readers of this blog will know that I am not a great fan of seafood, but one of the things I was very tempted to have was the seafood stew, which featured prawns, squid, clams and mussels in a rich tomato-based broth laced with white wine.

The restaurant's meat dishes seem rather dry, starting with the osso bucco, which was not in the usual Milanese style. Instead, it was served almost nude, with some roasted potatoes. Osvaldo explained that his cooking philosophy takes after his mother's: ingredients should be fresh, and food should be served simply, without pretentious crockery and garnishings to detract from the flavours and smells of what you're eating. While I have great sympathy for this approach to cooking, I do think that sauces, when used discriminatingly, elevate rather than dilute a dish.

Similarly, my roasted rabbit was slightly dry, which is a shame, since, given that rabbit is such a rare ingredient in Singapore, it seems an unfair representation of an otherwise lovely meat, and might put diners off trying rabbit again even when it is served in different ways. Osvaldo does get brownie points for even having rabbit on their menu though.

If you ask Osvaldo nicely, he may even bring out some eggplant and chillis that have been preserved in vinegar and white wine, a great touch that reminds you just how much this restaurant revolves around homely cooking and down-to-earth food.

Osvaldo also has an extensive range of desserts, which is particularly appealing way to end an Italian meal.

Although there is the ubiquitous tiramisu, there are also a number of other desserts you don't often see.

For instance, the ice cream "spaghetti" is a cute riff on spaghetti bolognese: ice cream is piped into squiggles and stained with some strawberry sauce to create an optical illusion that easily fooled my father, who could not quite figure out where the ice cream came from.

Similarly, the chocolate bombe is an interesting dish: a frozen core surrounded by additional layers of ice cream or chilled mousse, and coated all over in cocoa powder.

Osvaldo also brought out some adorable Italian meringues for us to try. Looking like little clouds that had been caught and frozen in dry ice, the meringues sandwiched a small blob of cream, working on the same principle as French macarons. Cute and sweet, what's not to like?

Osvaldo is a great new addition to the Italian restaurant scene - warm, welcoming, unpretentious, with good food and service, at prices that are relatively decent. I'm sure that as the Forlino family get used to their new digs, the food emerging from their kitchen will be of an increasingly high standard, and Osvaldo will become, if it isn't already, the new favourite haunt in the financial district.

Osvaldo Ristorante Italiano
32 Maxwell Road, #01-03 Maxwell Chambers
Tel: +65 6224 0978
(Closed on Sundays)

Truffs in Telok Ayer

2009-11-17T09:10:00.012+08:00

At the risk of sounding like a true snob, let me tell you about a pet peeve of mine - supermarket chocolates and people who give you a box of supermarket chocolates. Now, there are specific products that qualify in this category and the notable exceptions are specific favourites that you might have (a Violet Crumble for example, or a Cadbury Top Deck comes to mind, or even Kit Kat, Yan Yan or those hugely nostalgic Japanese biscuit mushrooms with caps of chocolate). What I'm referring to are those seemingly omnipresent boxes of mixed chocolates that always have eponymous names and colours, the kind you can buy at NTUC or Tangs.

I am in horror that till today, I still receive boxes of chocolates like that. To me, it's a horrible indictment of how I pick my friends and perhaps, my own poor judgement. It's like this - in the world of flowers, a box of seashell-seahorse chocolates is like carnations. Yes, they are lovely in some way, for example, carnations are very nice in a pomander and similarly, seashell chocolates look very nice topping buttercream frosting on cupcakes, but in a nutshell, it's the fastest way to tell someone, I don't know you and I don't really care what you like.

Because when we get down to it, nobody really likes seashell chocolates that are neither white chocolate nor milk chocolate. Nobody really, in this day and age, wants to get fat on a high vegetable oil content, common grain chocolate where you better care what is written on the back of box because some shapes (usually, as I have learnt by unpleasant experience, the ones wrapped in red aluminium foil) are filled with rank alcohol.

I cannot think of a worse thing to give someone for say, Christmas (the season of recycling, I guess, more than giving), but I fully admit to having sunk so low before myself - I distinctly remember primary school teachers, for example, who received similar, or favours that were, I admit, prettily-ribboned Neuhaus chocolate bars, and for the record, I'm truly sorry for having given you such a distinct lack of personality and effort.

The reason I'm saying this is that a week ago, I came upon a beautiful counter-example, the anti-example if you will, of lousy chocolate. This is beautiful, rich, sin-cleansing (okay, maybe I exxagerate but only slightly) chocolate, melded with clever design and packaging. I think the photos are fairly explanatory but let me just say that I was so excited to see this masculine-smooth creamy brown box enveloping a thin plastic film and wrapped with a suede ribbon. Even the card, stamped with vintage botanical drawings of the cocoa bean, suggested a treat in store.

Imagine my surprise that the store location was a skip and a hop away from the office, tucked upstairs behind the Ocean Fishhead Curry stall next to Amoy Food Center. Hurray for Singapore, modernizing and maturing into this growing phenomenon of the rise of the independent food entrepreneur. By this, I don't really mean the Breadtalk chain or some expat-come-early like Emmanuel Stroobant but rather, home-grown local, commercial coffee cafes, bakeries and chocolate shops that really meld design with culinary skill, technique and dedication. These little homages to craft remind me of New York and the kind of specialized stores one can find there.

I have great memories of living in Soho and wandering from bread shops to chocolate stores; tiny little hole in the wall places that only did one thing but did it really well - chilli chocolates or down-south pecan pie or freshly-baked onion rolls - at 5am in the morning. I think it's really a sign of maturity that the Singapore market is so quickly going down that path, where people are willing to travel to by these and chefs are willing to stake their reputation and their business on perfecting their small product offering. Of course, the flip side to this is that Singapore is likely to become more and more expensive a place to live - after all, the returns to specialization are a close corollary to luxury inflation!

This shop was no different: it was a cosy, spanking-new lab with a gorgeous carrera marble table top for rolling truffles and tempering chocolate. The owner, Teng Ei Liang is passionate about chocolates and left both his finance degree and job at the Singapore Tourism Board to pursue a Cordon Bleu course. His specialty and love turned out to be the traditional art of truffle-making and so now he juggles a full-time job with this new venture, which was borne out of making gifts for friends.

Truffles are so named for their visual similarity to the truffle fungus, and a chocolate truffle is traditionally made with a chocolate ganache center coated in chocolate or cocoa powder, usually in a spherical, conical or curved shape. The first truffles were cast in France in 1895 and later gained popularity through Prestat of London in the early 1900s. Other fillings may replace the ganache: cream, melted chocolate, caramel, nuts, berries, assorted sweet fruits, toffees, mint, marshmallow, and, popularly, liquor.

Ei Liang was telling me that despite several requests, he has tried to keep the purity of the truffle and his French ingredients alive by restricting his product to four varieties, the 55% Equiteur, the 66% Antilles, made of beans from the Carribean, the 70% Honduras, a rich, slightly bitter chocolate from Criollo and Trinitario beans and the sugarless truffles for diabetics, made with a small addition of artificial sweetener. Apart from the rise of dedicated food craft and local single-product food entrepreneurship, there is a second trend in food represented here - as people become more affluent and more concerned about what they eat and where it is from, there is a greater focus of harvesting and advertising around pure origin, single estate sourcing in ingredients, particularly in dairy and meat products.

It is a 2 day process to make truffles and they have to be kept at cool temperatures, as anyone who has taken the time to craft these will have found out. The pricing is not particularly cheap, at $24 for a box of 9 or $48 for a box of 18, but that is partly because of the cost of making them. To me, they hit that mark of having luscious quality but helpfully small proportions and it's a plus that they make great gifts of true, rich gratitude for your loved ones.

I'm well aware that I've now ruined my current Christmas gift surprise but I did think that it would be fairer to let you all know that Truffs is now taking Christmas orders and that you can take a visit to explore this little lab on your own - call Jo-lin to order your fix today!

Truffs
179a Telok Ayer Street
Singapore 068627
Mon - Fri : 12pm - 7pm
Sat : 12pm - 4pm
T: +65 9088 2736
Email

* As advised by my better half, I should clarify that:

(1) The post is meant to be tongue-in-cheek, I am not suggesting that people who buy chocolate assortments are not sincere or that you judge people by their gift-giving (or lack thereof) or what the gift is and what it costs.

(2) I am saying that I personally don't like them and have received a disappointingly large number of these from friends that I would have considered to be closer than a quickie trip to the supermarket aisle. I still believe re the old teachers that given how much I owe them and my own consideration of food, I should have put in more effort and thought then my own trip down the supermarket aisle. But, you are free to disagree with me!

Fall Plum Tart

2009-11-11T11:09:00.001+08:00

Are you one of those people who clips recipes from magazines or is forever jotting down a random idea or another (a pepetual notebookist)? I am, or at least I was, until I realized that they kept building up.

So I started folders for my different interests. But the folders kept building up. So now, at least for the "recipes" folder, I've resolved to cook my way through them, beginning with this Italian Plum Tart recipe that I found off goodness-knows-where.

It was though, very good. We brought it to a family event and there was hardly a slice left for me or D. at the end of it, so I'll have to make it again and not share it this time *grin*

The recipe was also pretty simple and didn't call for anything esoteric. The only thing I had to pick up from the store was a punnet of black plums but you can also use purple or pink plums.

Ingredients:
Crust-

(this can be made one day in advance)
1 1/4 C all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
2 Tbsp (23.95g) sugar
1/4tsp sale
7 Tbsp (113g) unsalted butter, cut into small pieces and chilled

Filling-
1/2 C sugar
3 Tbsp (75g) unbleached all purpose flour
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 1/2 pounds plums (about 24 small prune plums)
2 Tbsp (30g) unsalted butter

1. In a medium bowl, rub the butter into a mixture of the flour, sugar and salt till it resembles a coarse meal. Work quickly to keep the butter cold.Stir in 3-4 Tbsp of cold water, adding just enough each time for the dough to hold together without getting wet. Flatten teh dough into a 6 inch disk and chill for an hour or until the next day.

2. Preheat the oven to 425F, roll out the dough and cover a pie pan. Prick the surface of the dough and bake it blind, by lining the bottom with aluminium foil (or parchment paper) and filling the pie with pie weights or rice/beans.

3. Bake 10 minutes, then remove the paper and bake for another 5 to get a nice golden-brown colour. Whisk together the sugar, flour and cinnamon to make a filling ,which you will use to sprinkle on the bottom of the pie and on tht top of the sliced layers of plums.

4. Dot the top of the plums with butter. For myself, I found that the plums dried out a bit in the baking, so perhaps you could also experiment with a frangipane almond filling as in here

5. When slicing the plums, try halving them, then shearing them into thin layers. Arrange in a concentric pattern around the tart and bake 10 minutes. reduce the oven temperature to 350F and bake until mixture begins to bubble around the edges, 30-35min. Cool and serve warm with vanilla ice cream. Should serve about 8-10pp.

Recipe: Risotto with prawns and asparagus

2009-11-10T13:12:00.013+08:00

I am, as the Chinese have a habit of saying, a fan tong (rice bucket). Rice is probably my favourite carbohydrate, and at least one meal of the day has to have rice in it, otherwise I'll feel ill. Some people, however, despite liking rice, are not fond of risotto, usually because they don't think it's real rice. This puzzles me, as the same people are usually more than happy to eat both noodles and pasta. In any case, despite my liking for the substance, I've never actually cooked risotto before, usually because it requires slaving away over a hot stove, and the chances of landing up with overcooked sludge seem very high.

Due to a friend (who is not as helpless a cook as he claims) going on and on about his midnight risotto-making, however, tempted me into cooking risotto for lunch this afternoon. After a few references to Bill Granger, Jamie Oliver and Gordon Ramsay's cookbooks, I decided all risotto recipes were basically the same, and didn't look that difficult.

Ingredients (Serves 1)

500ml chicken stock
1 glass (200ml) of white wine
100g risotto (I used Carnaroli)
Olive oil
25g of butter
1/4 onion, finely chopped
2 or 3 cloves garlic, finely minced
20g parmeggiano-reggiano
1/2 chilli, finely chopped
1/2 lemon
5 asparagus spears (more or less depending on taste)
5 medium-sized prawns, peeled (more or less depending on taste)
Parsley, to garnish

1. In a saucepan, bring the chicken stock to a boil, then lower the heat to a simmer, so that your risotto doesn't cool drastically when you add the stock.

2. In a separate saucepan, lightly pan-fry your chilli, prawns and asparagus with the garlic in some olive oil until they are just cooked, then remove them and keep warm.

3. In the same saucepan, heat the olive oil and half the butter. Once the butter has stopped foaming, add the chopped onions, and cook till they have softened, but not browned.

4. Add the rice, letting the oil and butter coat the grains with a film of fat. Make sure your onions do not burn.

5. Pour in the white wine, which should sizzle satisfyingly as the alcohol cooks off. The wine will be absorbed quite quickly by the rice as you stir it.

6. Once the wine has been absorbed, add a ladle of hot stock to the rice. Stir the rice continuously on low heat to allow the starches to be released.

7. Once the stock has been absorbed, add another ladle of hot stock, and stir continuously over low heat.

8. Repeat this process, adding a new ladle of hot stock once the previous ladleful has been fully absorbed. It takes about 20 minutes before the rice becomes rich and creamy, so you should keep tasting as you go. You'll know when you're getting close, as by the fourth or fifth ladle the absorption rate of the rice falls dramatically, stirring requires much more effort, and the individual grains seem to merge into one another. What you're aiming for is a soft, creamy texture, and a "give" (not a crunch) when you bite into a grain.

9. Once the rice is cooked (but remains al dente), take it off the heat, add in the cheese and butter to enrich the risotto, and let it rest for two minutes to let the flavours develop.

10. Meanwhile warm your prawns and asparagus back up (in the empty saucepan that used to hold your stock), and squeeze a liberal amount of lemon juice over them.

11. Plate up by stacking the prawns atop the asparagus, and garnish with some roughly-chopped parsley.

NYT article on service

2009-11-10T11:00:00.001+08:00

51. If there is a service charge, alert your guests when you present the bill. It’s not a secret or a trick.

52. Know your menu inside and out. If you serve Balsam Farm candy-striped beets, know something about Balsam Farm and candy-striped beets.

53. Do not let guests double-order unintentionally; remind the guest who orders ratatouille that zucchini comes with the entree.

54. If there is a prix fixe, let guests know about it. Do not force anyone to ask for the “special” menu.

55. Do not serve an amuse-bouche without detailing the ingredients. Allergies are a serious matter; peanut oil can kill. (This would also be a good time to ask if anyone has any allergies.)

56. Do not ignore a table because it is not your table. Stop, look, listen, lend a hand. (Whether tips are pooled or not.)

57. Bring the pepper mill with the appetizer. Do not make people wait or beg for a condiment.

58. Do not bring judgment with the ketchup. Or mustard. Or hot sauce. Or whatever condiment is requested.

59. Do not leave place settings that are not being used.

60. Bring all the appetizers at the same time, or do not bring the appetizers. Same with entrees and desserts.

61. Do not stand behind someone who is ordering. Make eye contact. Thank him or her.

62. Do not fill the water glass every two minutes, or after each sip. You’ll make people nervous.

62(a). Do not let a glass sit empty for too long.

63. Never blame the chef or the busboy or the hostess or the weather for anything that goes wrong. Just make it right.

64. Specials, spoken and printed, should always have prices.

65. Always remove used silverware and replace it with new.

66. Do not return to the guest anything that falls on the floor — be it napkin, spoon, menu or soy sauce.

67. Never stack the plates on the table. They make a racket. Shhhhhh.

68. Do not reach across one guest to serve another.

69. If a guest is having trouble making a decision, help out. If someone wants to know your life story, keep it short. If someone wants to meet the chef, make an effort.

70. Never deliver a hot plate without warning the guest. And never ask a guest to pass along that hot plate.

71. Do not race around the dining room as if there is a fire in the kitchen or a medical emergency. (Unless there is a fire in the kitchen or a medical emergency.)

72. Do not serve salad on a freezing cold plate; it usually advertises the fact that it has not been freshly prepared.

73. Do not bring soup without a spoon. Few things are more frustrating than a bowl of hot soup with no spoon.

74. Let the guests know the restaurant is out of something before the guests read the menu and order the missing dish.

75. Do not ask if someone is finished when others are still eating that course.

76. Do not ask if a guest is finished the very second the guest is finished. Let guests digest, savor, reflect.

77. Do not disappear.

78. Do not ask, “Are you still working on that?” Dining is not work — until questions like this are asked.

79. When someone orders a drink “straight up,” determine if he wants it “neat” — right out of the bottle — or chilled. Up is up, but “straight up” is debatable.

80. Never insist that a guest settle up at the bar before sitting down; transfer the tab.

81. Know what the bar has in stock before each meal.

82. If you drip or spill something, clean it up, replace it, offer to pay for whatever damage you may have caused. Refrain from touching the wet spots on the guest.

83. Ask if your guest wants his coffee with dessert or after. Same with an after-dinner drink.

84. Do not refill a coffee cup compulsively. Ask if the guest desires a refill.

84(a). Do not let an empty coffee cup sit too long before asking if a refill is desired.

85. Never bring a check until someone asks for it. Then give it to the person who asked for it.

86. If a few people signal for the check, find a neutral place on the table to leave it.

87. Do not stop your excellent service after the check is presented or paid.

88. Do not ask if a guest needs change. Just bring the change.

89. Never patronize a guest who has a complaint or suggestion; listen, take it seriously, address it.

90. If someone is getting agitated or effusive on a cellphone, politely suggest he keep it down or move away from other guests.

91. If someone complains about the music, do something about it, without upsetting the ambiance. (The music is not for the staff — it’s for the customers.)

92. Never play a radio station with commercials or news or talking of any kind.

93. Do not play brass — no brassy Broadway songs, brass bands, marching bands, or big bands that feature brass, except a muted flugelhorn.

94. Do not play an entire CD of any artist. If someone doesn’t like Frightened Rabbit or Michael Bublé, you have just ruined a meal.

95. Never hover long enough to make people feel they are being watched or hurried, especially when they are figuring out the tip or signing for the check.

96. Do not say anything after a tip — be it good, bad, indifferent — except, “Thank you very much.”

97. If a guest goes gaga over a particular dish, get the recipe for him or her.

98. Do not wear too much makeup or jewelry. You know you have too much jewelry when it jingles and/or draws comments.

99. Do not show frustration. Your only mission is to serve. Be patient. It is not easy.

100. Guests, like servers, come in all packages. Show a “good table” your appreciation with a free glass of port, a plate of biscotti or something else management approves.

Bonus Track: As Bill Gates has said, “Your most unhappy customers are your greatest source of learning.” (Of course, Microsoft is one of the most litigious companies in history, so one can take Mr. Gates’s counsel with a grain of salt. Gray sea salt is a nice addition to any table.)

NYT on a roll...

2009-10-31T21:39:00.004+08:00

Two great articles on food and food-related topics by the NYT this week. Almost makes up for the markets!

This is their 1-50 list of things that restaurant staffers/waiters should never say or do (with comments from Colin). I have a couple to add from the Singaporean context (which have actually been said to me), for example, you should never say, when asked for cutlery, "we are washing them as fast as we can!"

1. Do not let anyone enter the restaurant without a warm greeting.

2. Do not make a singleton feel bad. Do not say, “Are you waiting for someone?” Ask for a reservation. Ask if he or she would like to sit at the bar.

3. Never refuse to seat three guests because a fourth has not yet arrived.

4. If a table is not ready within a reasonable length of time, offer a free drink and/or amuse-bouche. The guests may be tired and hungry and thirsty, and they did everything right.
[Colin: Singaporean waitstaff are not generally guilty of the first three, but neither do they exhibit the initiative required for #4, which would definitely win guests over]

5. Tables should be level without anyone asking. Fix it before guests are seated.
[Colin: I personally hate wobbly tables. It makes a guy look bad in front of his date. What is so difficult about making tables non-wobbly?]

6. Do not lead the witness with, “Bottled water or just tap?” Both are fine. Remain neutral.
[Colin: Another irritation, which other bloggers have gone to great lengths to identify, is restaurants which don't believe in serving tap water. You run an eatery, not a palace.]

7. Do not announce your name. No jokes, no flirting, no cuteness.

8. Do not interrupt a conversation. For any reason. Especially not to recite specials. Wait for the right moment.
[Colin: I find that waitstaff, even well-trained ones, do this a lot. It is extremely rude and aggravating.]

9. Do not recite the specials too fast or robotically or dramatically. It is not a soliloquy. This is not an audition.
[Colin: Waitstaff far too often mumble out a rehearsed list so rapidly you'd think they were trying for an award.]

10. Do not inject your personal favorites when explaining the specials.
[Colin: Actually I think this is fine - it adds some personality to the presentation.]

11. Do not hustle the lobsters. That is, do not say, “We only have two lobsters left.” Even if there are only two lobsters left.

12. Do not touch the rim of a water glass. Or any other glass.

13. Handle wine glasses by their stems and silverware by the handles.

14. When you ask, “How’s everything?” or “How was the meal?” listen to the answer and fix whatever is not right.

15. Never say “I don’t know” to any question without following with, “I’ll find out.”

16. If someone requests more sauce or gravy or cheese, bring a side dish of same. No pouring. Let them help themselves.

17. Do not take an empty plate from one guest while others are still eating the same course. Wait, wait, wait.

18. Know before approaching a table who has ordered what. Do not ask, “Who’s having the shrimp?”
[Colin: Very few restaurants I've been to have been able to display this level of training.]

19. Offer guests butter and/or olive oil with their bread.

20. Never refuse to substitute one vegetable for another.

21. Never serve anything that looks creepy or runny or wrong.

22. If someone is unsure about a wine choice, help him. That might mean sending someone else to the table or offering a taste or two.

23. If someone likes a wine, steam the label off the bottle and give it to the guest with the bill. It has the year, the vintner, the importer, etc.

24. Never use the same glass for a second drink.

25. Make sure the glasses are clean. Inspect them before placing them on the table.

26. Never assume people want their white wine in an ice bucket. Inquire.

27. For red wine, ask if the guests want to pour their own or prefer the waiter to pour.

28. Do not put your hands all over the spout of a wine bottle while removing the cork.

29. Do not pop a champagne cork. Remove it quietly, gracefully. The less noise the better.

30. Never let the wine bottle touch the glass into which you are pouring. No one wants to drink the dust or dirt from the bottle.

31. Never remove a plate full of food without asking what went wrong. Obviously, something went wrong.

32. Never touch a customer. No excuses. Do not do it. Do not brush them, move them, wipe them or dust them.

33. Do not bang into chairs or tables when passing by.

34. Do not have a personal conversation with another server within earshot of customers.

35. Do not eat or drink in plain view of guests.

36. Never reek from perfume or cigarettes. People want to smell the food and beverage.

37. Do not drink alcohol on the job, even if invited by the guests. “Not when I’m on duty” will suffice.

38. Do not call a guy a “dude”.

39. Do not call a woman “lady”.

40. Never say, “Good choice,” implying that other choices are bad.
[Colin: Personally I think this can be done with humour or irony.]

41. Saying, “No problem” is a problem. It has a tone of insincerity or sarcasm. “My pleasure” or “You’re welcome” will do.

42. Do not compliment a guest’s attire or hairdo or makeup. You are insulting someone else.
[Colin: Again, depends on how you pull it off.]

43. Never mention what your favorite dessert is. It’s irrelevant.

44. Do not discuss your own eating habits, be you vegan or lactose intolerant or diabetic.

45. Do not curse, no matter how young or hip the guests.

46. Never acknowledge any one guest over and above any other. All guests are equal.

47. Do not gossip about co-workers or guests within earshot of guests.

48. Do not ask what someone is eating or drinking when they ask for more; remember or consult the order.

49. Never mention the tip, unless asked.

50. Do not turn on the charm when it’s tip time. Be consistent throughout.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

2009-10-26T17:25:00.005+08:00

Just in case anyone has been looking for presents for their favourite blogger-friend (cough, cough), I was looking through Amazon myself today and came across these brilliant books! Of course, I am the main proponent of, "who needs cookbooks when you have the web" and "too many cookbooks = too much cobwebs" but I was definitely seduced by this promising selection and hope you will like them too.

The Fundamental Techniques of Classic Pastry Arts, by the International Culinary Center and Judith Choate ($27.75USD)

This sounds like something I could really learn from, a wealth of insider tricks and an indispensable addition to any serious home baker’s library, The Fundamental Techniques of Classic Pastry Arts covers the many skills an aspiring pastry chef must master. Based on the internationally lauded curriculum developed by master pâtissier Jacques Torres for New York’s French Culinary Institute, the book presents chapters on every classic category of confection: tarts, cream puffs, puff pastry, creams and custards, breads and pastries, cakes, and petits fours. Each chapter begins with an overview of the required techniques, followed by dozens of recipes—many the original creations of distinguished FCI graduates.

The Patisseries of Paris: Chocolatiers, Tea Salons, Ice Cream Parlors, and more, by
Jamie Cahill (USD$11.53)

This charming book profiles almost 100 of the best patisseries, chocolate shops, tea salons, ice cream parlors and other sweet spots in Paris. Author Jamie Cahill also includes the best picnic spots and offers several lovely sidebars: a profile of a chocolate buyer for a fashionable gourmet store, a behind-the-scenes look at the daily goings-on in a patisserie kitchen and the history of three crucial items in the French kitchen. Cahill also mentions other useful tips, including brief descriptions of the various types of creams and cream fillings that form the foundation of French pastries.

If you're planning to go to Paris anytime, it would be great to read this book and if you're not, then you have to get it, it looks so beautiful you could read it anytime of the year!

Momofuko, David Chang and Peter Meehan ($26.29USD)

You would think it's funny to buy an Asian cookbook but if the breathless hype is true and his food is as good and as exciting as everyone says it is, it would be worth it. We might not be able to eat at his restaurant but from what I've read, I'm already a fan of scary-smart, funny, and ambitious, the wildly creative Chang.

The reviews do say that the recipes are impractically long and complex, though the ginger-scallion ramen recipe I read on the net sounded absolutely delicious.

Organic and Chic: Cakes, Cookies, and Other Sweets That Taste as Good as They Look, by Sarah Magid ($18.47USD)

In 60 recipes, Magid offers up specific, easy to follow recipes for crowd-pleasers like oatmeal raisin cookies and flourless chocolate almond cake, as well as homemade variations on childhood all-stars like Girl Scout Thin Mint cookies and Hostess Sno-balls. Grown-ups will swoon over her Lovely Lemon Cake with marshmallow frosting, Minty Strawberry Shortcakes and her Chocolate Love Blossom-a multilayer chocolate cake filled with vanilla whipped cream and/or a red currant curd, and covered with a rich ganache. Though the titles may sound ambitious, most recipes are more than manageable.

The photos from this book look gorgeous and I like the idea of making good-for-you also good-to-look-at and good-to-eat. I also definitely think organic, high-quality baking is where the future of dessert lies.

I love Macarons, by Hisako Ogita ($10.08USD)

Cute-as-can-be, buttery macarons capture the whimsy and elegance of Paris, where they're traditionally served with tea or wrapped up in ribbon to give as a gift. But the secrets of making perfect macarons have long eluded home bakers until now, in I Love Macarons, renowned Japanese pastry-maker Hisako Ogita brings her extensive experience to the art of baking macarons with fully illustrated foolproof step-by-step instructions. This book looks really charming, I'm not sure anyone can fully explain macarons, nor that you can learn it out of a book, nor even that I have the patience to try new and possibly unsuccessful variations of recipes but I would sure like to have a look!

The Fat Duck Cookbook, Heston Blumenthal ($31.50USD)

The cookbook was hailed by the Los Angeles Times as a “showstopper” and by Jeffrey Steingarten of Vogue as “the most glorious spectacle of the season…like no other book I have seen in the past twenty years”. This lavishly illustrated, stunningly designed, and gorgeously photographed masterpiece takes you inside the head of maverick restaurateur Heston Blumenthal. Separated into three sections (History; Recipes; Science), the book chronicles Blumenthal’s improbable rise to fame and, for the first time, offers a mouth-watering and eye-popping selection of recipes from his award-winning restaurant. He also explains the science behind his culinary masterpieces, the technology and implements that make his alchemical dishes come to life. I don't suppose any of these recipes would be easy to recreate but maybe one could learn a trick or two from the master.

Rose's Heavenly Cakes, by Rose Levy Beranbaum ($26.37USD)

From the author of the standard classic, the Cake Bible, this is a large, heavy, detailed book of cakes, cupcakes, bars, baby-size cakes with excellent photography, all printed on heavy, high-end paper and with volumes listed next to it, then the weights of each ingredient, in both American and Metric form. Almost every cake is photographed, which I know many people find important in choosing a cook book. It sounds accessible, useful and delicious.

Worst Dining Trends of the Decade

2009-10-26T10:07:00.003+08:00

Food has become such an icon these days: we place it high atop a pedestal of organic, locally-grown, grass-fed, extra virgin, cold-pressed, single estate offerings, and we worship it and flaunt it ostentatiously, the latest restaurant or dining experience worn like a diamond choker.

Restaurants, the high priests of this new religion, certainly do their part to observe the solemn rituals, making us, the willing acolytes, believe that we absolutely, for our spiritual welfare, must have the catch of the day.

It's about time someone held up a mirror to this silliness, exposing the aggrandisement and blandishments to the searing light of truth. You should think about it too: what do you consider to be the worst dining trends of the decade?

Black Coffee, anyone?

2009-10-20T13:17:00.014+08:00

I am partial to a good coffee, although I don't drink it often: when presented with the opportunity to have a rich, strong yet creamy cappuccino or latte, I can never resist. I've been very fortunate that in my travels, whether to San Francisco, Rome or Sydney, I've had many opportunities to sample and appreciate some really great coffees.

That's partly why I always cringe when my Australian cousins visit town and ask, with a knowingly significant emphasis, "where can I get a good coffee"? The reality is, we haven't many that I could point them to. Until a few years ago, I'd have said, we haven't any, but luckily that landscape has changed.

Black Coffee Dessert Bar is definitely on top of my shortlist (literally) when considering truly independent, quality-driven and best of all, local entreprenuers who are changing the way that Singaporeans experience western-style coffee and it's really about time. After all, we've all had bad coffees, the bitter, migraine-inducing New Jersey diner coffeepot-on-a-hot-plate type stuff that just wasn't worth the caffeine boost.

In fact, Singapore has been engulfed by chains like Gloria Jeans, Tully's and Coffee Club (or whatever they call themselves next), largely I suspect because of the goldmine Starbucks got everyone believing in, about the same time that they convinced everyone that a cup of coffee-au-lait should cost in excess of $5. So in a sense, it's no wonder that a good caffeine hit has been both an elusive and confusing experience for the average consumer.

It's also, in part, a result of Singapore'a corporate coffee culture, the fact that a coffee has become a codeword for an unneccessary meeting and the coffee itself, a convenient drink to supplement a short but heavy lunch. In reality, a good coffee should taste like a marriage of a rich, delicious flavour coupled with a full body and a luxurious mouthfeel, and the coffee experience should be one of enjoyment and contemplation, the same ingredients needed to make a good one.

This is because a good coffee is a complex romance, starting with the high altitude, moderate climate, abundant rainfall and volcanic soils that produce some of the world's finest gourmet coffees in places like Guatemala, Hawaii and Columbia, then continued through the legacy of farmers who grow, pick and market the beans and actualized through the passion of qualified baristas who roast and percolate them to the right acidity and tease out fresh milk foam into imaginative "latte-art" patterns. It takes a pretty global village.

The founders of Black, whom I know from school, have clearly not just done their research into the complex art of coffee making but also into the kind of atmosphere where you can enjoy your daily dose. Tony, the barista, gives me a quick lesson in how to get the best brew- their beans are ground fresh to order for every single cup and the same with the milk, poured and steamed for each cup. The remaining milk is thrown away so that each cup gets fresh milk- this gets a huge thumbs up for quality and service- I doubt any other joint in Singapore is as careful and passionate.

The cafe itself is just as meticulous- the staff are friendly, the signage clever and the vintage furnishings and music were specifically chosen for a hip, yet informal setting, which is a great change from the Raffles Place area, where it is located toward the back of Chevron House, a stone's throw away from the MRT.

Black, which prides itself on being a coffee and dessert bar, serves a variety of other beverages, such as a selection of teas, iced and authentic Italian hot chocolate and fruit mixes. Black also serves dessert and alcohol over the day (if you're lucky, there will be warm slices of luxurious home-made Valronha chocolate bananana bread - they are wonderful) but it is in the evenings when it becomes a venue for music sessions and parties. With little publicity and within a mere few months of its opening, Black went on to win a mention as one of the "Top five bars, restaurants, coffee shops" in The Monocle Singapore Survey 2009, probably a testament to the appreciation of its rare product and standards.

Black Coffee Dessert Bar
16 Collyer Quay #01-11/12 Hitachi Tower
Monday to Friday 7am-8pm
+65 65344220
www.thisisblack.com.sg

Strawberry Jelly Hearts

2009-10-18T01:03:00.009+08:00

In Singapore, there is this cake-dessert, which is colloquially referred to as "Strawberry Jelly Heart". What it really is, is layered cheesecake squares, topped with heart-shaped strawberry pieces, encased in strawberry jelly. These trays of layered cheesecake are sold in slim boxes, usually by some home-baker, and have gained popularity over last few years.

Of course, it was only a matter of time before classes were offered and in reality, the core of the recipe is a simple one of a no-bake cheesecake. In fact, I'm not a huge fan of the combination of jelly and cheesecake and so I have never really pursued either the product nor the teaching.

However, I seem to be in the minority. When I announced I was going to make these, both my mother and Z. were really pleased. What I learned, is that while this recipe is simple, the assembly presents some engineering problems that I didn't quite expect to encounter.

Recipe:

320g digestive biscuits, crushed finely
140g butter, melted

1 box (250g) Philadelphia Cream Cheese
1 tsp vanilla essence
50g white sugar
10g gelatin powder
1/2 cup hot water
20 strawberries, sliced and stamped into shapes

2 packs of Tortally strawberry-flavoured jelly
300ml hot water
300ml cold water

The first part of preparing the base is simplicity itself. Crush 320g of digestive biscuits, melt 140g butter in the microwave, or in a saucepan and mix them together. Some people tell you to mash the biscuits with a mortar and pestle but I find the easiest way is to place them in a clear plastic bag and then steamroll them with a rolling pin. You can pick up a fruit bag from the supermarket for this purpose.

The finer the biscuits are crushed and the more butter you use, the easier the resultant mixture will be to press into a pan. There's a balance between not wanting to add more butter than is necessary and the ease of working with a stickier mixture - too dry and you wind up having a very flaky and uncooperative base.

The way to line the base of the pan is to choose a suitable size (in this case, I used a 24 by 24cm baking pan) and line it with aluminium foil. After your cheesecake is done, the foil makes it easier to lift the whole thing out of the pan. Press the foil neatly into the corners of the pan and over the outer edges. Similarly, press the biscuit mix neatly into the base of the pan.

This is the part that the kids can help with - using the back of a spoon, it's fairly quick and easy to get the biscuit crust even and smooth. Chill the mixture for at least 15 minutes (I like to put my crust in the freezer rather than the fridge because it's quicker) and when you take it out, prick the surface at regular intervals with a toothpick.

Before you even start on any of the liquid mixtures, I would suggest putting the kettle on for a fairly large quantity of hot, boiling water, as it is called for twice in the recipe. While it is boiling, cream one pack of Philadelphia Cream Cheese (250g) and 1 tsp of vanilla essence together in an eggbeater and start to fashion your strawberry hearts.

The strawberry hearts themselves actually presented the largest challenge. Only the exterior of the strawberries are used to stamp out the shapes, so there is quite a lot of wastage. The recipes I read tell you to slice the strawberries in half, then stamp out the shapes with a 1 inch heart-shaped cookie cutter. I found it a lot more effective to core out the strawberry, the way that a sushi chef does with cucumber. By cutting around the strawberry, the outer seeded part was all the roughly the same thickness (as opposed to just cutting the strawberry in half, which produces pieces that have varying thickness).

There were a few problems with my strawberries. The first was that the supermarket did not present much choice - either I could pay $8 for Driscoll strawberries from the US, or $3.45 for a smaller pack of unbranded but fresher Australian strawberries. I don't think it makes much difference, except that you should try to get strawberries that are slightly unripened. Mine were very ripe and you can see from the picture that they look a little too dark red.

The second part is the stamping. I didn't have a 1 inch heart shaped cutter. What I did have was a drawer-ful of random shapes, left over from our nanny, who liked to use them to make cute little carrot and turnip shapes for stir-fry or garnishing. I was able, for example, to make an entire suite of card-themed shapes from club and spade-shaped cutters. The only heart cutter was but 1 cm long and in the end, I wound up using a flower shape which was the right size. If you use a smaller sized cutter, trust me, you'll be stamping for an uneccesarily long time.

Even so, I found that strawberries don't stamp easily. They can be fairly thick and these ripe ones especially, were turning quite soft. More often than not, I found myself using a knife and slicing off uneven ends that straggled on the cutting edge. I guess this is one more reason to use less ripe strawberries and also, to remember to place your strawberries, after stamping, on kitchen paper, so that the mushy inner, pulpy side dries up.

It was probably at this point that I stopped envying all the home-bakers who made strawberry jelly hearts for sale. It's not as easy as it looks, I thought silently, with my hands dripping in messy strawberry juice and fibres.

At some point, the water in the kettle would have started to boil. Take a rest from the strawberries and in a medium-sized bowl, spoon out 50g of sugar and 10g of gelatin powder. Pour 1/2 a cup of your boiling water into the bowl and stir quickly to dissolve the gelatin powder and sugar. When it is cool, pour the gelatin water into the cream cheese mixture and continue to beat till smooth. This, essentially, is the cheesecake mix. Spoon into the biscuit crust, smoothen the top and pop it back in the fridge for 20 minutes. Warning, the cheesecake mix is slightly liquidy and discoloured looking, which might cause some concern but relax, this is normal.

The other thing to do now is to dilute 2 packets of strawberry-flavoured Tortally jelly in 300ml of hot water and 300ml of cold water (I used water from the fridge, made especially cold). Then, you can either stir the mixture till it cools or put it in the fridge for 15 minutes (but stir occasionally to make sure it doesn't set and harden).

Retrieve your tray of cheesecake from the fridge and press the strawberry hearts into the cheese at regular intervals. Envision cutting the tray into squares at the end of it and that will give you some idea of how far apart to space the hearts. You do have to push them a little into the cheese, otherwise, as I discovered, they tend to float up when you add the liquid jelly. When the liquid jelly has cooled (and hopefully, remained liquid), pour the jelly over the cheese layer, spooning it gently, so as not to dislodge anything. Then, place the whole tray back in the fridge for 2-4 hours.

Just to be safe, I waited till the next day to unwrap my jelly hearts and upon pulling the tray out of the fridge, I was quite pleased at both the depth and the consistency of the jelly layer. Gripping the aluminium foil firmly with both hands, pull/lift the tray of cheesecake entirely out of the pan and onto a flat surface. If you try to cut the cheesecake jelly inside the pan, you will wind up with rather crooked lines and messy edges (witness my prototypes).

What I learnt from this recipe is that even though the process is simple and no-bake, presentation is everything. These small steps, details like covering the tray base and sides properly with aluminium foil, spacing the strawberry hearts evenly, lifting the cheesecake out to slice on a flat surface and wiping the knife between each cut, are all essential to getting a product that looks respectably-made rather than crudely fashioned.

I got many positive comments on my strawberry jelly hearts so that is proof that you can score a success on the first attempt with this recipe. Have fun!

Food Opera at ION

2009-10-09T10:56:00.000+08:00

Some weeks ago, the PR company for Food Opera at the Orchard ION gave us a call and invited a group of bloggers to sample their new outlet and its offerings. While joking that this was quite far from our usual concept of posh-nosh, we were intrigued to see how this idea of a "high-end" food court would play out.

On that day, we were shown to a private table within the food court but also given a tour of the premises, which included many esoteric animal sculptures owned by Dr George Quek, Chairman of the BreadTalk Group, who is behind this new venture. The idea of a "Food Opera" was to showcase the artistry of enterprising hawkers and to suggest an elegant ambience with unconventional furnishings and decor, like acrylic chairs, chandeliers and oversized picture frames.

Food Opera has 26 stalls (4 of these are mini-restaurants) chosen for their authentic cooking and long history. It is affiliated to Food Reupublic, Bread Talk, Din Tai Fung and Toast Box (isn't it amazing how large his empire has grown?)

The first dish that was brought to the table was a plate of abacus yam from Mei Zhen Hakka Delights. My mother is Hakka and I've inherited very little appreciation for the cuisine, so it surprised me that I actually thought this dish very flavourful and nuanced.

The second dish was Fatty Weng's Fried Oyster Omelettes. The oyster omelette of course, is a perennial favourite and this one even had some wok hei but as with most oyster omelettes, it started to cool and congeal quickly.

The third dish was the smoked duck from Guan Chee Roasted Meats. This dish of sliced duck was so pink, succulent and moist, it looked almost like a plate of undercooked char siew, rather than duck. True to the image of "Food Opera", the plate of duck meat comes embellished with decorative flowers and garnishes.

The stall also does other roast meats like roast pork crackling, which was good and char siew, which was not quite so good (tinted red and somewhat overflavoured in rose syrup).

My favourite dish was Li Xin Chao Zhou Fish Ball Noodles. The fish balls are large and bouncy, yet light and effortlessly smooth- having been hand-shaped from fresh ground Yellow Tail, the taste is clean, without a fishy after-taste, even and sweet. These are the largest fishballs I've seen, and the unanimous opinion was that they are also some of the finest fishballs we'd ever tasted. The stall is quite an interesting one to peer into because you can see their whole process of shaping, chilling and cooking the fish balls.

My second favourite is the red wine hor fun, from Ah Wok's restaurant: this was well fried, with a well-balanced flavour. It's a great dish to order because people do a double take when they first hear the mention of "red wine" in the same sentence as "seafood hor fun". Oddly enough, however, the combination works brilliantly, as the red wine, when exposed to the searing heat of the wok, quickly reduces to a jus that coats and enhances the umami of the seafood. This mini-restaurant within Food Opera sells zi char and is one of the places that you can get a larger table for a proper sit-down meal.

The other dishes fed to us were the Hainanese Curry Pork Chop with Chap Chye, a sambal kang kong, an assortment of tofu and the Ayam Goreng Bumbu from Padang Padang and they were all pretty good.

One dish that we were split on was Ah Wok's crispy duck, some people did like it but for me, it was too thin and dry.

Lastly, we sampled the Chendol and the Gula Melaka Avocado from the Ice Shop (No. 7). I didn't like the Gula Melaka Avocado, the avocado content wasn't high enough and the whole thing tasted reminiscently of soyabean. The chendol on the other hand, was probably one of the best I've had in Singapore, with a powerful punch of coconut milk. It was a pity that the jelly strips were not home-made and had a tinted kelly green, rather than a faded pandan green colour to them but all in all, it was very satisfying.

There were many other stalls that we didn't get to try- the 3rd Generation Laksa and Prawn Noodles, the Balestier Bak Kut Teh and the SGKuehKueh stall, an offshoot of the famous stall in Amoy Street. There is definitely reason, thus, to go back to Food Opera- while I don't know if Singaporeans would pay the premium in prices, just because you get to eat on proper ceramic crockery (as opposed to melamite ones), this place is packed out almost everyday, which goes to show, good food and a good location, is definitely the key to success.

Review: District 10

2009-09-10T21:27:00.009+08:00

I've noticed an interesting trend lately: old schools that have been sitting idle are being revamped and transformed into offices, usually with a flagship restaurant displayed prominently out front. La Villa where River Valley High used to be, Chalk at Old School, and the latest is District 10, which is located at (or in) the old Monk's Hill Secondary School.

Despite the lack of publicity (though there has been a review in the papers since I wrote this), District 10 is enjoying booming business, due mainly to a combination of location (near Newton Circus, ample carpark), cost (affordable food), and food (large portions and hearty food).

I suppose it doesn't hurt that they also have a large expanse of space in which to accommodate their patrons, both indoors and out. The outdoor area is actually quite a nice place to sit and enjoy a post-dinner prandial - the multiple standing fans ensure that you're never too warm, though I suppose that also depends on your circulatory system.

The mussels are not a regularly starter, or at least they weren't at the time. Sweet and tender, I thought they could have done with a little more white wine, but otherwise a very forgiving dish that usually goes down well.

The salmon pate is surprisingly delicious, given that I'm not usually a fan of fish. But the pate is served cold, and the refreshing, creamy, briny paste, is irresistible when paired with a crunchy, bite-sized croute.

The duck spring rolls tasted like spring rolls, and what caught my attention was not so much the spring roll but the salad, which featured sliced starfruit, not an ingredient one often sees in salads, but one which I think has much potential. Clean, juicy and slightly acidic, perfect.

District 10's menu consists mainly of straightforward, simple dishes like burgers, and pastas. The ribs are apparently a house specialty, slathered with grain mustard and enormous: rustic, "stick to your guts" food. Tender and filling, the ribs can easily be shared by two people, making them even more affordable.

My sister had the lasagne, which she said was quite enjoyable, though I did not attempt to verify this. It was probably a good thing she did not order her original choice, the duck confit, which, when a friend ordered it, turned out to be somewhat flaccid, lacking the crispy skin I am more accustomed to.

Desserts are a bit disappointing, though District 10 is not really a dessert place. Each time I've been here I've tended to order a chocolate gelato, which is not bad, but isn't spectacular either.

District 10 is a pleasant, laidback bistro that is affordable and large enough to accommodate big groups, with simple comfort food that should appeal to everyone. The menu is not particularly extensive, however, though it has been reported that they are planning on expanding their menu.

District 10
#01-17, 10 Winstedt Road
Tel: +65 6738 4788

Chocolate Banana Cupcakes

2009-08-29T22:03:00.004+08:00

These were my little minions for an office tea to celebrate the anniversary of a colleague and the almost-end to a tough work period. The base was a chocolatey, chunky chocolate banana cake and I beat some buttercream for frosting.

Now that I have discovered Italian buttercream (as opposed to Swiss Meringue buttercream, do you know the difference?) and since discovering that buttercream is actually not meant to be yellow, I've been icing everything white. I'm developing a white fetish (how wrong that sounds) for cakes because I know I can make bright white frosting. This is after I spent 3 years believing that buttercream was inherently yellow (it isn't, I just wasn't making it with French butter cos you know, heck, French butter is expensive) and thus has to be tinted into a darker, more palatable colour. And now that I've discovered which are the cheaper French brands of butter to buy in bulk, I can have French butter most, or at least, more of the time.

All this explains why the buttercream was, of course, white. I was also, though, having a hundreds and thousands infatuation. While I was searching for the best chocolate cupcake in sites like these, I had come across the cutest picture of chocolate ganache cupcakes with old school hundreds and thousands. Something about it triggered a childish memory of eating chocolate frosting (no kidding, I used to eat it out of the Duncan Hines paper jar) with sprinkles at the back of tuition class and suddenly I was craving childish cupcakes.

These ones come pretty close. They were delish and in their small, considerate size, even my health-conscious colleagues reached for one, abstained from scraping off the frosting and didn't ask the guy next to them to share!

Recipe: Caramelized Onions

2009-08-29T21:21:00.006+08:00

One theme I've been thinking about recently is this recurring idea of "Luxe for Less". This concept can be applied to some inexpensive home-made recipes that really take the cake on the store-bought version, or, quick, simple ways that you can jazz up recipes or well-worn dishes.

This is a really simple side dish or garnish that really adds to meat dishes or burgers. What you do is get some red onions (I tend to use 4-5 large ones) and slice them thinly. You can slice them in half, then in thin half-rounds or if you're aesthetically picky, you can slice them all in round onion rings. I tend to make a big batch of this and then freeze the remainder, so when you need an emergency side or garnish for meat, it's already there waiting for you. The way this recipe approximates also makes it a bit hard to make a wee little bit for say, 2 people.

Heat a pan and add a small slice of butter and 3 Tbsp of olive oil (or grapeseed oil, if you prefer). Saute your onion shavings, leaving them to cook and soften in the pan. This can take up to 10-15 minutes if you've crowded your pan. If you have a pan that you've used to sear meat and then deglazed, you can use the same pan for these onions. You can also add thyme or rosemary to your onions if you fancy. This will all add to the flavour absorbed by the onions, which should now have turned wet, transculent and shiny.

Throw 3 heaped soup spoons of white sugar into the onions and stir to distribute. The heat will continue to melt the sugar into the onion mixture. When the sugar has at least partially dissolved, pour in 1/2 a cup (feel free to approximate, depending on how many onions you've used, you may need more or less sugar and balsamic) of balsamic vinegar into the onions and mix again.

As you cook the mixture, the onions will continue to soften, take on a dark hue and the resulting liquid will thicken slightly. The mixture is done, as soon as the vinegar is well distributed and the onions are an even colour. You can either drain away the liquid, or save it for something else. Serve a heapful of this on burger patties or with steak, or pack it like a skin, over a hot roast. Delish!

Just a note, this works with yellow or white onions too but it really actualizes itself with red onions which are sweeter and caramelize better. If you use small red onions, you will probably have to use 8-10 little ones but the trade-off is that the small little rings and dainty shavings are aesthetically very pretty, especially when plated with small-boned meat like frenched lamb rack.

Recipe: Roasted Tomato and Red Pepper Soup

2009-08-24T19:58:00.030+08:00

I am one of the few people I know who enjoys cold soup as much as hot soups. As a result, I am always on the lookout for soups that can be served both warm and cold, such as vichyssoise, gazpacho and so on. The benefit of these soups, apart from their versatility, is that they improve with age, in a way soups like consommes do not, so you can feel good about leaving leftovers.

This recipe is one of Gordon Ramsay's, and unlike a normal tomato soup, this one makes use of red peppers to sweeten the soup, and in order to really enhance the flavours, the peppers (in fact all the fruits and vegetables) are roasted first.

Ingredients (Serves 4)

Olive oil
6 or 7 ripe plum tomatoes
3 large red peppers
1 onion, thinly sliced
3 garlic cloves, peeled
1 tsp caster sugar
Basil
Thyme
500ml tomato juice
500ml vegetable or chicken stock
200-300g (8 to 12) baby cherry tomatoes on the vine (optional)

It's worth paying more for beautiful, plump, juicy tomatoes...they don't necessarily have to be on the stem, but I regard that as a sign of freshness. While the locally-grown beef tomatoes may be much cheaper, they tend to be quite sour and even harsh, so I would not recommend using them. Tomato juice is easily found in cans or tetra-paks in supermarkets.

1. Quarter and de-seed the tomatoes

This is important, as it ensures that your soup will be perfectly smooth and lush. I have had many tomato soups which were gritty, and while you can always sieve your soup, it is extraordinarily difficult to remove tomato seeds once they have been blended.

To de-seed tomatoes, simply quarter them, and using a spoon or the tip of your knife, tease out the wet, mushy cores containing the seeds. Do not discard these, but place them into a sieve with a bowl underneath. The watery cores contain lots of tomato juice that you can squeeze out with the back of a spoon (or your hands), leaving the tomato seed and pulp in the sieve but ensuring that you do not waste too much of the sweet, refreshing juices.

2. Quarter and de-seed the peppers

This is not particularly difficult; you may de-seed the peppers any way you think convenient.

3. Pre-heat the oven to 220C.

4. Tip the tomatoes, peppers, sliced onion and garlic into a roasting tin, and lubricate liberally with olive oil (about 4 Tbsp worth). Sprinkle with a handful of fresh thyme leaves, and toss to coat all the ingredients in the oil. Sprinkle with sugar and season with salt.

5. Roast in the oven for 20 to 25 minutes until the tomatoes and peppers are caramelised (but not browned), adding a handful of fresh basil sprigs towards the end of cooking (so they do not char).

6. Tip the roasted vegetables into a saucepan, and add the reserved juice from the tomato pulp you strained earlier, the 500ml of tomato juice and the vegetable/chicken stock. Bring to the boil, and cook for 5 minutes.

7. (Optional) If possible, leave to marinate overnight, as this will really intensify the flavours. If you don't have the time for that, at least wait for the ingredients to cool down before blending them.

8. Blend the ingredients in a blender (in batches).

9. (Optional) To obtain a really smooth soup, sieve the mixture at least once (twice is better).

10. This is what you should end up with: a bright, carroty-orange soup, that should be adjusted to the consistency you desire by adding more stock or tomato juice. Once you're happy with the consistency, you can serve it either warm or chilled.

11. (Optional) To jazz up the appearance of your soup, and to create an interesting flavour/texture contrast, when you're ready to serve, heat up some olive oil in a frying pan and simply place baby cherry tomatoes on the vine (2 or 3 to each person) into the hot oil. Let them sizzle away for a minute or so, then remove them and place them gently into the soup bowls.

The great thing about this soup is that even if you serve it warm at the height of summer (in Singapore that would be about 1pm any day of the week, I guess), it still seems refreshing and zesty, bursting with great flavours: sweetness from the tomatoes, some piquancy from the peppers, and a general sense of satisfaction as you finish the whole bowl.

Review: Forlino

2009-08-24T19:58:00.028+08:00

I've been hearing about Forlino for quite a long time, and its reputation for high-quality Italian fine-dining preceded it, but, sadly, so did reports of its high prices. Thankfully, a special discount gave us the perfect opportunity to sample the set lunch.

The entrance to Forlino is somewhat foreboding, making use of ashen greys and pitch blacks, with solitary lights spotlighting a bureau, or a sculpture, reminiscent of a slightly macabre museum, or a desolate mansion. This is not necessarily a bad thing, however, as the effect is certainly strikingly dramatic.

Entering the restaurant proper is an equally interesting affair: the decor changes to something that would not be out of place in the Schloss Schonbrunn - corridors of blue walls with gilded stuccoes frame chequered floor tiles, achieving a palatial, chiaroscuro effect that one might think slightly out of keeping with Forlino's modern cuisine.

The main dining area is very contemporary though, all darkness and light: black carpeted floors and a plush ebon upholstery absorbing dining room chatter, while floor to ceiling glass panes allow you to enjoy the view of the Fullerton hotel and the city skyline with your meal.

Said meal commenced with an amuse-bouche of marinated cod and micro vegetables. The firm, fresh fish (alliteration unintended) and the melange of salad leaves certainly serve to excite the tastebuds, and hint at more to come.

The wild mushrooms with robbiola cheese fondue and cornmeal polenta followed, which I thought was delectable. Intense, earthy mushroom flavours danced on the tongue and down the back of the throat, while the rich, creamy polenta enveloped the aroma of the funghi, diffusing it across the palate. I could probably have eaten a whole bowl of this without much difficulty.

The second course was an elegant homemade pasta dish: tagliolini with clams cooked in white wine and served with slivers of green chillies. The chillies tasted more like peppers, which added a piquant sweetness to the dish which cut through the umami of the clam sauce.

The meat course was a dish of slow-cooked Wagyu beef cheeks with herbed mashed potatoes. Just what you'd expect: unctuous, almost gelatinous hunks of beef cooked till meltingly tender, paired with a decadent sauce and a hearty mashed potato.

Alternatively, you could have the halibut and asparagus with orange and martini vermouth sauce.

Dessert was a less complicated affair: a molten chocolate cake served with banana gelato and rum sauce. The cake was soft and delicate, giving way to a thick, luscious hot chocolate interior. It's true that molten chocolate cakes are a dime a dozen these days, but they're still delightful when done properly.

It's true that Forlino is not especially cheap (although it gets cheaper if you have certain credit cards), but it's a beautiful restaurant located in a picturesque part of the city, and is a perfect spot for a romantic or special meal. Food is very good, and an extensive menu means you'll be spoilt for choice while being attended to with care and meticulous service: ladies are provided with cute plastic stools on which they can place their handbags, and any requests or inquiries will be discreetly seen to.

Forlino
1 Fullerton Road
#02-06 One Fullerton
Tel: 6877 6995
Website

Review: Oriole

2009-08-24T19:57:00.012+08:00

I'd heard a bit about Oriole and Bedrock Bar and Grill, the new cafe and restaurant opened by the people who started Whitebait and Kale, but it's taken me a while to find an opportunity to try either. Intrigued by the reviews of the hot chocolate at Oriole, I decided to go give it a try.

The two are opposite each other, which I would have thought is a form of cannibalism, but on the bright side, at least there are two more places to have a decent meal in town, which I've long complained suffers from a dearth of venues for a meal.

I rather like the decor in Oriole; the light fixtures in particular are very striking, resembling giant spindly wooden spiders. Generous glass panels allow in a fair amount of natural light, while upholstered booths line the walls, making it a pleasant enough place to while away the afternoon.

Unfortunately, Oriole's drinks do not really live up to their reputation. The latte, hot vanilla, and hot chocolate were all reported to be rather too sweet, resulting in forlorn half-drunk cups being left behind on the table.

The chocolate milkshake wasn't too bad, especially since chocolate milkshakes can handle being over-sweetened, but it's not the best milkshake I've had.

Being boring, I ordered a plate of linguine vongole, which was acceptable, though with some minor cavils: the aroma of the white wine was almost completely dissipated, and a heavy hand with the minced garlic resulted in a fair bit of heat emanating off the dish.

A salad of harissa prawns and chickpeas was not, however, that well-received, as the prawns were tough and harsh, instead of being plumply firm and sea-fresh.

Desserts at Oriole are surprisingly disappointing, with offerings like chocolate brownies and bread and butter puddings, though happily their specials are a bit more attractive. The chocolate tart with vanilla bean ice cream was comfortingly rustic, without unnecessary accoutrements like icing sugar or superfluous flower petals.

All in all, Oriole is still finding its wings, trying to live up to its songbird potential. A good, affordable cafe close enough to the centre of the Orchard shopping district to be a welcome distraction from the hordes, Oriole is worth keeping in mind, if only because TCC and Coffee Bean become monotonous after a while.

Oriole Cafe and Bar
#01-01/05, 96 Somerset Road
Tel: 6238 8348
Website

That buttery, warm feeling....

2009-08-17T09:21:00.007+08:00

Over the last couple years, I'd written many diatribes about supermarkets and grocery prices in Singapore. Alarmed by the rapid rise in price of basic food and dairy prices, I wondered how the average Singaporean was coping and if they were being scammed by grocery companies, which were, the last time I checked, still making healthy profit margins.

Of course, we in Singapore are lucky, there are a multitude of cheap eating stalls and generally, you can still afford to eat well but gradually, it appears that you won't be able to afford to cook. Last week I decided to act upon an idea that had been brewing for a while and, instead of reviewing a restaurant, try to add value as a blogger by reviewing something far more sensible.

My central premise was that all butters are not created equal. But surely, some butters were more economical than others and I wondered, is there a difference between butters? Was it possible to get a good deal? The best balance between taste and price? Which was, for want of a better term, "luxe for less"?

To help me decide this, I recruited three famous bloggers and with some cajoling, and where that failed, brow-beating, persuaded them that they really did want to do a butter test. We tasted 6 butters, all of lower price points and all unsalted versions where available - Greenfields ($1.60 from Phoon Huat), Goldtree ($1.60 from Phoon Huat), Le Petit Normand ($2.80 from Phoon Huat), Cowhead (from NTUC $5.35 for 2), SCS (from NTUC $4.50, $3.80 on special) and Elle et Vire ($3.50 from Sun Lik, $3.16 for 6 or $3.60 for 3 from Shermay, please note this is packed in a 200g as opposed to 250g block).

These prices compare to the creme de la creme butters (literally), at $5.60 (from NTUC) for Lurpak, which was the unanimous favourite amongst all the bloggers and $5.20 (from NTUC) for President. I avoided buying a block of Anchor ($3.70, $3.20 on special at NTUC) because I already knew we all disliked it and made a concession for SCS, even though some had already registered their distaste for its oilyness, only because it's such an iconic Singaporean brand.

Generally, most of the low-range butters that are available in Singapore are from Australia and a couple are from France. The first conclusion is yes, there is a difference between butters, both upon a blind tasting and also when you use them in say, butter cake. I tend to find that the more solid, pale-coloured french butters are in fact, a lot less oily than the darker yellow butters, say like SCS. Your cake tends to be less dense in texture, with flaky granules rather than melted, heavy ones. I also think where the butter is a dominant feature, like in buttercream, there is a rich wholesomeness to using President for a macaron filling and it clearly gives a white, rather than a yellow tint to the cream.

Our notes on the butter tasting were that Goldtree, as I suppose you can expect from its dark yellow colouring and super cheap price, had no taste at all and was declared the worst one. Greenfields had a weird synthetic, very buttery tasting aftertaste, which, although artificial, didn't taste completely out of sync. SCS was also rather buttery, with a similarly oily aftertaste.

The Petit Normand was a lighter tasting butter, somewhat tasteless unfortunately but with the characteristic paleness and sweetness of french butters. Elle et Vire was the best tasting, the lightest and the one that approximated the nuanced flavours that one associates with good quality butter. It was probably the closest proxy for President butter that we had.

So there we have it. Apparently one can buy President when it goes on special and just hoard and freeze it (Lurpak apparently, never goes on sale) but if it were my choice, I guess I would use Le Petit Normand or Elle et Vire (on the 6 piece special price) for my baking. Or maybe skip the mid range altogether and use Greenfields for regular baking and upgrade to President for buttercream!

Macarons: More than a one-trick pony?

2009-08-16T19:01:00.009+08:00

After a tremendous weekend of macaron baking, I was satisfied that I sort of had the technique down. Sure, it wasn't perfect, sometimes they were a little flatter and they still had an annoying granularity that K's macarons seem to be devoid of but they all had happy, thick, luscious feet and they peeled off the paper easy enough and I was feeling pleased with myself.

You would think that would be reason enough to kick up your heels and sit down with a dark chocolate ganache or a salted caramel macaron. But no, Z. had to taste them and say, yes, but how come you always make these same flavours? "That's all I know how" I replied rather haughtily and with as much dignity as an amateur macaroner can be expected to have.

"You are a one-trick pony", he beamed. Well, technically, I was a two-trick pony...or a two-flavour pony, which I suppose, is kind of a zebra. Point taken. With Colin's suggestion that I could try (meaning, I suppose, that he wouldn't mind eating) a passionfruit and milk chocolate macaron ala Pierre Herme and the long weekend ahead, it seemed like a good time for further experimentation.

For a week, I randomly pondered flavours and colours. Could lemon curd be sandwiched in a macaron? How about glace ginger- never mind that I don't even like glace ginger but it seemed a terribly sexy thing to put in your macaron. Green macarons? I'd done green tea before, with chocolate ganache and even with chestnut puree for my cousin when he came down with the mumps but I'd been slightly biased by the pasty, rather musty taste of chestnut and the ease with which it curdled.

Lychee and raspberry?, I texted K. Basil and lime? Raspberry White Chocolate? One late night, it came to me- Rosemary shells with Pineapple Jam, I suggested to K. excitedly. For Chinese New Year! "Too exotic for me, I doubt the old people will like", the answer came back. I guess the symptoms of macaron madness are fairly obvious. I was undeterred. The long weekend rolled around and by the time it did, I grudgingly admitted that coffee buttercream would probably be a good place to start and that no, I had never in my life liked black sesame so I probably shouldn't embark on that.

I didn't understand how I had managed to leave it till months into my macaron experience to make coffee buttercream but truth be told, I was a bit worried about pouring acidic coffee into buttercream. I dissolved the coffee granules and added, for good measure, a teaspoon of Neilson-Massey's beautifully flavourful coffee essence and half a vanilla pod. I needn't have worried, the buttercream swirled into a creamy smooth, speckled coffee coloured mix that was easy on the eye and on the wrist. The reality was I was so concerned, I probably under-flavoured the buttercream, though I discovered the next day that the taste does get stronger as the days go by.

I piped it into hazlenut shells and sandwiched dark chocolate ganache inside the swirl. I also used chocolate shells for the coffee and dark chocolate combination of filling. This found quite a bit of favour with the older people, I noticed, in particular, the men, rather than the women.

In this round, I'd used a french butter, so the lot of buttercream was white. Not wanting to miss my chance, I flavoured it with ginger juice, lemongrass juice, vanilla seeds and grated ginger. Then I piped it into plain shells and buried a small piece of glace ginger within each.

What was left? The rest of the batches were tinted yellow and flavoured with passionfruit juice, which I extraceted by straining the seed (the seeds then went into the lemon-passionfruit curd). Then half were sandwiched with lemon curd and the other half with milk chocolate. This turned out somewhat alright, except that in my zeal, I had put in a couple drops of Nielson-Massey lemon extract, a very bad idea as it overwhelmed the passionfruit juice.

That and the milk chocolate in Singapore tends to be somewhat too thin- I tried this with Valronha milk chocolate from Sun Lik and another round with Valronha milk chocolate from Shermay's Kitchen. Both were very liquid, thin and not terribly sweet nor light in colour. I'm not quite sure why that is but if I can find better milk chocolate, perhaps I'll try this recipe again.

At the end of the day, I had solved some mysteries. I understood that the reason for my grainy macarons was because my sieve was not fine enough and also, my macronage process was not comprehensive enough. But the biggest lesson I'd learnt, is that nobody actually wants to eat ginger macarons and even lemon curd or raspberry white chocolate macarons, oh yes, they have their occasional fan....but most of the feedback, went something like, more dark chocolate ganache ones and no ginger! I guess the reason I'm a two-trick pony is that those are the ones that people actually like!

Macarons: Take 200 and 12...

2009-08-16T18:37:00.006+08:00

I hadn't realized how much I'd been flogging the macaron horse (that sounds really wrong) until today, when Colin lit up upon entering the kitchen, then peered into the mixing bowl where I was creaming some butter and in a crestfallen tone said, "not making macarons"?

Since K's refresher, I've been trying to practice, to keep the wheels of precision and cogs of memory well-oiled. To prevent myself from forgetting or my memory to get stale. But also because it is such a rewardingly aesthetic process. I actually do think I'm improving- these are some strawberry macarons I made, filled with raspberry white chocolate buttercream. I'm especially better when I have the time and isolation to be disciplined and unhurried about the whole thing. I almost think macaron-making is a state of mind and I aim to become unflappable, serene, tranquil in my steps and breathing....still a big step away from where I am now.

"You always give them away" he elucidated reproachfully, as he carefully carried out three on his plate for breakfast, "and then we have so very few left". It's true. How could you not love the aesthetic of macarons? Who could resist looking at them? Seeing the world in one of these lush little packages of almond meal and rich, dark chocolate- it's simple and complex at the same time, yet oh so good.

Hello there, beautiful... Icing a layered cake.

2009-08-16T17:47:00.009+08:00

Most of you would probably have been familiar with my last post about having a craving for the springtime yellow lemon tiered cake that appeared in a Martha Stewart magazine some time back. Even if you had not been, you may have seen my last enthusiastic, slightly ghastly perhaps, attempt. While I was gratified by the height of the cake, I felt that my icing skills could use some work.

The cake turned out a medium yellow, with pale yellow and chrome yellow iced ribbon and some purple daisy and silver dragee decorations. With its lemon poppy seed zing and the flavoured buttercream, it was absolutely delicious but had a bit of a party pop flair to it. A kid's party, that is.

Undaunted I went out, bought a turntable, then proceeded to procrastinate making another cake. The problem was really that the number of steps involved in making a layered cake and then finding an occasion big enough to eat an entire cake, was still such that it remains quite a party trick. First, you have to make each flavour of cake. For this cake, there were two flavours, lemon pound cake and lemon poppy seed cake. You bake each cake in a round cake tin of the same size. then you turn out each cake and slice it evenly into two half rounds.

Then you stack each half alternately onto each other, beginning and ending with the flat bottom of each cake and sandwiching each layer with home-made lemon and passionfruit curd (yes, this is where the excess lemon and passionfruit curd from tarts went to). The next step is to smear some buttercream around the sides of the cake to even out the round shape and then to refrigerate it so that the whole cake sets and the crumbs that inevitably flick off the sides and top of the cake set into the thin layer of cream.

The last step was a few hours later when the cake was relatively hard. This involved softening the buttercream, then smoothing layer upon layer till the whole cake was smoothly and evenly covered with cream. Scraping the remaining cream into a piping nozzle, I made a dam of piped stars along the top and bottom circumference of the cake (all the better to hide my messy icing endings with, my pretty). I could have left it simple and neatly covered, if a little boring looking. The top of my cake had been very well-iced. But I thought, oh, what the hey and added a layer of passionfruit curd on top, then topped the cake with flowers.

When you finally get done messing and smoothing about with your layered cake, there is something immensely satisfying but almost paranoid about the feeling you get. It's a bit like having a child actually, after all your efforts and worries and anticipation, it's a bit overwhelming, almost, to see your expressions and features, but in this case, your aesthetic and crafting vision, take physical form.

Halfway through, I thought- this cake would look so sophisticated, if I iced it in tan-coloured salted caramel cream and then topped it with a circumference of white icing and a topper of white flowers. Or what about pink buttercream with a brown and fuschia flower topper? (I am so excited to get my Sarah Masjid Organic Cakes and Cake Decoration book soon!).

As it was though, the palette of ivory, white and pale yellow made for a very understatedly gorgeous, if a little feminine, cake. The cake was rather thick, it must have stood at a good four and a half inches tall (even though this cake had three layers inside, rather than the previous cake that had four), so I cut each slice fairly thin. It was dense, lemony, sandwiched in lemon passionfruit curd and delicately iced in buttercream. And when I sliced through it, it cut cleanly into three gratifying distinct and beautiful layers. Lots of oohing and ahhing, just as a good party trick should have.

Hard-Core Lemon Passionfruit Cream

2009-08-12T16:59:00.002+08:00

One of the things you learn very quickly, when you live out, is that independence is often overrated. There is no real sense of aspiration that comes from doing your own laundry. However, there are perks too, one of which is that a leisurely breakfast is suddenly a very enjoyable meal and available to you at whatever time of the day you happen to define as morning.

In fact, breakfast might be my favourite meal of the day, a fact masked, perhaps, by my failure to rise early enough anytime during my college years to squeeze in a breakfast before running wildly to class.

Fluffy eggs, ricotta hotcakes, heck, even soft boiled eggs with black sauce and kaya toast, I love them all. One of my favourite things to do, though, is collect the ingredients for breakfast food and surprise everyone in the morning. One of the absolutely necessary ingredients is lemon curd, which is also one of my favourite things to make.

I've often been asked about this recipe, it sounds very complex, perhaps because it involves a "bain-marie" (french for water bath) and blending but it is actually super easy. On this particular occasion, I decided to add some passionfruit to give the curd a more nuanced flavour.

Ingredients:
1 cup sugar
Finely grated zest of 3 lemons
4 large eggs
3/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (from 4 to 5 lemons)
2 sticks plus 5 tablespoons (21 tablespoons; 10 1/2 ounces) unsalted butter, at room temperature
Seeds from 1 vanilla pod
2 passionfruits

Process:
1. Place the lemon peel, the seeds from the vanilla pod and the sugar in a bowl and rub the lemon and sugar together with your fingers to infuse the lemon oil from the peel into the sugar. How much sugar you use will determine the overall sharpness of the curd- I like my lemons tart so I use less than the prescribed amount.

2. Crack the eggs into the bowl, add the lemon juice and mix the sugar, juice, peel and egg together. Then place it over a saucepan half-filled with boiling water, as shown in the picture. Place the saucepan to simmer over a small flame on the stove and slowly cook and stir the mixture.

I like to use a glass bowl because the heat is more diffused and regulated. Metal bowls are hot to handle and cook your curd too quickly.

3. The curd will take at least 15 min to cook and thicken. Cook it slowly and stir frequently to keep the curd smooth. It is ready when your spoon or whisk leaves tracks as you stir the curd.

4. At this stage, the curd is ready for use. You can also go on to thicken the curd to lemon-passionfruit cream. If you intend to stop at this point, then you can go ahead and add the passionfruit pulp and seeds in now. The difference in stopping here, is that the curd is more liquid and sharp tasting.

5. If not, cool the lemon curd thouroughly. Then, place the curd in a blender, cut the butter up into small pieces and blend the butter into the cream. It takes about 10 min of blending but what you will see is that as the butter emulsifies the curd, it will get thicker and creamier (though still liquid).

6. Pour out the cream into a bowl, mix in the passionfruit pulp (you don't want to add it before because the seeds would get blitzed in the blender) and refrigerate. During the refrigeration, the cream will become even more firm and solid.

This lemon passionfruit cream has a multitude of uses! I've used it to fill macarons, to make lemon cream or meringue pie and to flavour buttercream for piping on cupcakes. Here, I used them in a healthy way, to complement breakfast pancakes with honeycomb and berries but the curd itself can be packaged as a present, as shown by this clever organic wrapper that Jamie Oliver has come up with.

Apologies, I just realized that we had already posted what else we made with these- the caramelized brulee tarts, so that's a bit anticlimatic but still, try this out at home!