Killing The Fatted Duck If I can be completely honest, I’ve been dreading writing this post. Yes, I went to Heston Blumenthal’s world famous, three Michelin star restaurant, The Fat Duck. Yes, the experience was amazing. What more do I say? To make matters worse, I know one of the key ingredients that make dining at The Fat Duck an even more incredible experience is the surprise factor - i.e. you walk in thinking you’re going to get a “conventional” meal (which begs the question “What is food?”) and you get these gastronomical alchemist’s creations. And I kinda shot myself in the foot, since I had read up about The Fat Duck before, and I’ve seen posts of other bloggers describing their meals. When I sat down, I glanced at the menu, and half of me was proud that I recognized most of the dishes, but the other half was a little disappointed that not much had changed. Silly me. Don’t get me wrong though - the flavours and creations were everything I thought they would be. (Except maybe the Pommery Grain Mustard Ice Cream which really didn’t float my boat.) Right from the start, with the Nitro-poached palate cleanser of lime and vodka which looked like a meringue but disappeared in your mouth, leaving your mouth feeling absolutely sparkling clean. (This was especially important to me as I had a sinus infection and my mouth was feeling crappy.) It even cleared up my sinuses which meant I could take in the aroma of the Oak Moss and Truffle Toast. Speaking of truffle, how decadent is it to have truffle TOAST! And how awesome. I honestly think that was one of my favourite dishes, seeing as it’s so rare that you get to enjoy the flavour of truffle where it’s truly the star of the dish and doesn’t have a million other flavours contesting for your attention. And I’m sure all of you are wondering about the legendary Sound of the Sea. I have to admit that I went in a skeptic, but was pretty much blown away by how the feeling of the shoreline was recreated in front of me. I still kind of feel like the iPod delivering the sound of seagulls crowing and waves crashing was a tad indulgent, but I do get where they were coming from - it makes it an entire experience, which heightens your attention so you look at the dish more as though it were a beach scene, which in turn helps to elevate the experience that little bit. Probably one of the most exciting dishes for me was the much talked-about snail porridge. Having been brought up in an Asian (and predominantly Chinese) culture, I don’t automatically associate the term “porridge” with the ang moh style, i.e. oats. I generally think of it as watery rice, and so I had to remind myself that it probably wasn’t going to be the case. And indeed it wasn’t. On my plate was a little mound of green stuff. It kinda looked like barley, but I wasn’t sure. Sitting on the green stuff were a couple of snails (the extreme right one kind of looks like it has a face which started freaking me out haha), julienned ham and shaved fennel in a beautiful almost floral arrangement. This was pretty much a visual kick in the face, and all before I’d even had a bite. As if it could get any better, the flavour and texture that exploded in my mouth was sublime. The slight chewiness of the snails juxtaposed with the almost al dente bite the porridge gave, add together the crunch and slight bitterness of the fennel, with the entire mouthful married together by the smoky saltiness of the ham was amazing. I love snails, but who knew that snails and porridge could go so well together? Mr Blumenthal, obviously. My hands down favourites, however, had to be the “breakfast” portion of the meal. After dessert, we were given a little cereal package each of parsnip cereal (which tasted SO much like cornflakes only better x1000), served with a small jug of parsnip milk (sweet and creamy, but with the lightness of semi-skimmed milk that hasn’t lost its flavour). My personal winner was the Nitro-scrambled egg & bacon ice cream, which was served on pain perdu with tomato jam and candied bacon. Setting aside the obvious tableside theatrics of the re-filled egg shells cracked into a copper pot over an unlit stove and frenetic scrambling action once the liquid nitrogen was added into the mix, the flavour was seriously out of this world. The bacon was both sweet and savoury, with a hint of that smoky bacon flavour (I mean SRSLY who doesn’t love bacon?!!) all in a super smooth custard, placed atop a slice of brioche that was cooked so it was crisp and caramelised on the outside with a gooey, eggy, almost molten interior. I love the full english breakfast, and I am delighted to report that a re-constructed, sweet, frozen version definitely hit the spot. There’s so much more that I want to say about the four-hour dining experience we had at The Fat Duck, but I really must show some self-restraint. The last thing I will give mention to, was that if I had to pick the single most outstanding part of the experience, I would have to give it to… the water. That’s right. I was feeling under the weather (and rather heavily medicated) on the day we made our foray into Bray, so I decided to stay off the alcohol. And while I was a little jealous of the champagne carts that visited the surrounding tables, I must say the water served at The Fat Duck was phenomenal. The still water which accompanied the majority of the meal was Wattwiller from Auvergne. This water contains no nitrates at all, which supposedly accounts for its remarkably clean and neutral taste. Towards the end of the meal, we were given another type of (still) water, Glenlivet from Speyside, which has one of the lowest mineral contents of any bottled water. This lends to it an almost sparkling, cleansing (not just clean) quality. I know it sounds a little ridiculous that I’m waxing lyrical about the bloody bottled water from this restaurant, but seriously. If you can get your hands on a bottle of either brand, try it, then you’ll understand what I mean. To see photos of (almost) all the courses I had, check out my flickr photoset of The Fat Duck. interim I know it’s kinda pink, but just bear with me for a while. I don’t really have the time to do up a new theme, so I’m just gonna hang with this for a bit. And then there were six .. stars, that is. (This is the only post that I’m counting stars, since I don’t think I’m doing another combined-restaurant review.) So it’s quite obvious that when Bunny and I were in London earlier this month, we weren’t really doing a lot of sight-seeing. Or, well, we were - but the sights we were interested in mainly came on a nice white plate (in most cases), on a table, in a restaurant. That’s right, we ate ourselves silly. Some might say we ate ourselves sick, but we’ll protest very loudly that it was crappy seafood in Barcelona that got us sick, not the copious amounts we ingested. One of the restaurants that we went to was Pétrus, located in The Berkeley Hotel in Knightsbridge, London. Some of you may have heard of Pétrus because of how 5 bankers from Barclays were sacked after having spent over £44,000 on a half dozen bottles of wine there. And indeed, the size of the wine list alone was rather impressive. But I wasn’t there for the wine. Marcus Wareing, one of Ramsay’s many protegés, helms the kitchen of this two star establishment. To be honest, I didn’t even know that this was his place until a few months back when I was trying to figure out where to eat on this holiday. He’s probably better known for his time spent at the Savoy Grill, where it earned its first Michelin star with him at the helm. And I’m glad to say that the meal definitely didn’t disappoint with all that anticipation leading up to it. The food at Pétrus was fantastic. It was fairly simple fare, but that didn’t detract from how impressive it was, especially for a set lunch. Anyone who’s heard me whine about the general state of “fine dining” restaurants in Singapore will know how highly I value good, fresh ingredients, since what you eat is really only ever as good as what you put in it. From the amuse of a foie mousse served with parmesan croutons (the foie had the texture of peanut butter, and I love peanut butter, so that was heavenly), all the way to the chocolate bon bons (pictured at the start of post) that we picked off their Bon bon trolley, every single dish that appeared in front of us was very well designed to showcase the natural flavours of the dish, without distracting or detracting from the main ingredients. My favourite, however, was my main course. I know this sounds a bit silly because we mostly expect the main course - i.e. the main event of the meal - to be the show-stopper, but often it’s not the case. At Pétrus, however, I opted for the red mullet (above), which is a rather fatty round white fish that’s very common in Britain and the Mediterranean. It’s as beautiful as it is tasty, and the couple of times that I’ve chanced upon it here, I always have a lot of fun eating (and/or cooking) it. Here, it was served poached, with a wild garlic pesto. The flesh was firm and flaked beautifully, and the (relatively) simple cooking method meant that its flavours really shone through. The pungent pesto (and pesto croutons) on the side were brilliant at enhancing those flavours. Another place from Gordon Ramsay’s empire that we went to, of course, was his eponymous restaurant at Royal Hospital Road. Here, we did the a la carte lunch menu, which provided a little more choice than his set lunch offerings. We couldn’t really face the Menu Prestige (far too many courses), as jealous as we felt when we saw some of the courses being served to the other diners, seeing as we’d had a slightly heavier breakfast that morning. The first thing that hit us, here, was the impeccable service. It was very personable, without being intrusive (a fine line that service staff in Singapore are wont to trip over), and made us feel very comfortable despite the very amusing and very posh English families that were seated around us. (You could just about see some of those kids having their debutante balls!) Although it would be unfair to compare Ramsay’s with Pétrus, seeing as we didn’t have the set lunch here, it’s probably fairly safe to say that the fare at Ramsay’s was significantly more refined. And I’m not just saying that because of how liberally our plates were littered with slices and cubes of black truffle. The menu here went beyond showcasing the feet-on-the-ground good flavours of fresh ingredients in skilled hands, and arrived at an impeccable presentation of the season’s produce. It was impressive to witness the use various cuts and parts of an animal in the same dish. For example, my main course of Best end of Cornish lamb with confit shoulder and thyme jus (above, lower right picture) showcased the fillets, the shoulder and the stock all made using lamb which were married together on one phenomenal plate. But the dish I enjoyed most here was my starter. I’m a little hung up on sweetbreads at the moment, which has been the case for the last couple of months. I thought, at first, that this had something to do with the lack of availability in Singapore (not many restaurants that I can afford to regularly patronise offer it), but after veritably gorging myself on the stuff in Europe, I’m still hung up on it! My starter was sautéed foie with roasted sweetbreads (above, lower left picture), all tied together with two slightly sweet accompaniments - carrot purée and almond velouté. Three weeks later, I’m still drooling when I look at a picture of, or think of this dish, so I’m going to give myself an easy out by not describing it. Suffice to say it was a dish with simultaneously the best foie gras and the best sweetbreads that I’ve tasted. I must mention, though, that the restaurant seemed to revolve largely around veloutés of all shapes, forms, and names (sometimes being dubiously dubbed a cappuccino - but you can’t fool me!), which was a bit amusing to observe. The last restaurant which I’m writing about here is one that I went to without Bunny. London is a city that has been stealing my good friends from me for the last four or five years, and one of them who is finally coming back to Singapore around the time when I’ll make my indefinite departure (so maybe it wasn’t London that she was running to, but me that she was running from!!) is an old friend from school. She picked a restaurant that I - in my ignorance - hadn’t heard of before. It’s a newish joint in the Soho area of London known as Arbutus, which boasts both a ridiculously affordable set lunch menu (about 15 quid for a 3-course meal), and bold offerings of offal. Unfortunately, the only offal on the menu when I was there was stewed pigs head (the biggest picture in the above collage), and it wasn’t on the set lunch menu! So we decided that one of us would order a la carte (me, being the greedy one), and one of us would have the set lunch so we could compare the food. My dining companion, A, was really tickled with the idea of eating a pig’s head. I suppose the way the dish was phrased, an active imagination could lead to you wondering if the entire head was going to appear in front of you (it definitely crossed my mind), but what I got instead looked a little like a slice of a terrine, bearing no resemblance to the part of the pig that it came from. The fatty meat (slightly reminiscent of pork belly, only with much more tender meat), was served with a little pile of caramelised onions and a swoosh of potato purée. The texture of the purée was incredibly smooth, and while I enjoyed the dish marvellously, I think it would have been taken into a whole new level if a little texture contrast had been injected into the dish. Interestingly, her set lunch main course beat my a la carte one to a pulp. The breast of lamb (bottom left corner) was very flavourful, impeccably cooked, and the accompaniments, while lacking a little on the presentation scale, tasted amazing. My bavette of Scottish beef had a slightly strange texture, which sort of felt like it was marbled with cartilege, only a little chewier. It was tasty, but still a bit strange. Arbutus, for me, will go down as the king of potatoes in London. After my perfectly creamy purée from the starter, I had dauphinois potatoes served in a mini cast iron coccotte, and while I daresay I was biased strictly because of the vessel it was served it, the alternating texture of creamy potatoes that still held some bite, and crispy, cheesy crust was delicious. Awesome potatoes, delicious no-fuss food, and charmingly friendly and casual service all for a great price made this restaurant a great experience. So now you can probably see why within the first week of my arrival in London, I was crazy excited about the rest of my trip. With a start like that, who can guess what’s to come? Besides The Fat Duck, that is. But that’s another story for another day. :) To see the rest of the photos that I took at the above restaurants, you can access them in my flickr sets here: Arbutus, Pétrus, and Restaurant Gordon Ramsay. In the descriptions of the sets, as well as in this post, I’ve included links to the restaurant websites. Getting What You Deserve Before I get on with the rest of my holiday’s food-posting, I have something quite pressing I feel the need to talk about. Chubby Hubby has just announced The Miele Guide. I’d already heard about this project a while back, and while I applaud the intentions, there are some issues that I have with the premise in general. All of us foodlovers who live and eat in Asia surely lament the fact that most restaurants worth their salt in Asia definitely don’t get enough recognition. Singapore, which is known as a “food hub” has but one restaurant in the top 100 list. Hong Kong, another food hub, has three. And where are Japan’s? That said, it must be noted that there IS a reason why Singapore (and most of Asia) lags behind in this circuit. The one thing that I found more outstanding (apart from the food) when I was (fine) dining in Europe over the past month was that the service in there just brilliantly outshone this region’s best efforts. I know that service and ambience are not actually part of the critical factors which come into play when a restaurant is being judged for guides like the Michelin one, but I think it’s a crucial part of the entire dining experience. There is only one restaurant in Singapore where I’ve received consistently excellent service - to a standard which is on par with the fine dining establishments in Europe. (For those interested, this particular Japanese restaurant has not made any lists in any food articles or magazines either.) Elsewhere, service is either rude, ignorant, intrusive, or just inept. In Hong Kong, an unspoken rule is that you’re in a “good” eating establishment because the service is so bad that they musn’t feel the need to suck up to patrons. (Obviously this applies more to the lower end of the price range.) Nonetheless, I think this disparity is really the biggest area in which we trail behind our Western counterparts. And while there are a myriad of reasons which compound our conundrum, I think one of the reasons that may have led to the poorer standards overall has to do with the exceedingly low wages we pay our local staff (both in the kitchen and in the dining room), which, low as the market rate internationally may be, has really taken “cheap labour” to a new level. Job satisfaction (which includes a variety of factors including reimbursement for one’s efforts) is one reason to stay and if the staff stays, the restaurant runs like a well oiled machine. Without knowing that staff will stay on for a reasonable length of time, employers also won’t spend the effort in training their staff adequately. One other glaring reason is that I find our local restaurants don’t seem to get their hands on produce that is good enough. Which is why we’ll find that the cities which are more recognized for their food (e.g. any Japanese city, Hong Kong, Sydney) all have stellar produce at arm’s reach, whereas we fail to catch up to them. The food we make is only as good as the ingredients we start with, and even a chef with the most magical touch cannot do anything that would save a piece of rotten fish. Of course that statement was slight hyperboly, but you get my point. Obviously, there are many things that we can point to, and the blame-pushing game is one that could go on forever if we allow it. And don’t get me wrong - I do think it’s a good thing, what the Miele Guide aims to do. But with all this talk of food in the region, what with Singapore getting its Michelin guide (we don’t deserve it yet, as our best restaurants are still the Japanese ones which are nowhere near the standard of the ones in Tokyo), and what not, I just have this sinking feeling that many restaurants which don’t deserve it are going to get too much recognition. Let me leave you with one thought: when was the last time you spoke of a “famous” restaurant in Singapore, which has been around for at least 5 years, but has never had the phrase “the standards have dropped” or “the food used to be so much better” attached to it? That’s right, hardly ever. Note: As mentioned previously, there’s still an issue with the comments system on my blog, so if you have any pressing concerns that don’t seem to be getting published, please email me. Thanks. The comments thing is mostly sorted, but if anything, again, don’t hesitate to email me. Cheers! Btw There’s something wrong with my blog comments moderation thingamajiggy - it suddenly let through like a couple of thousand spammalot style comments which obviously didn’t rock my boat. So I turned the comments to a different setting and now I’ve got roundabout 10,000 comments in moderation and it’s making my wordpress seize up and have a little field day when I try to moderate it, so unless you’ve had a comment approved before, chances are yours isn’t going to get through. Bear with me for the time being, I’ll try to get it sorted soon. 22 April 08 Update: Alrighty this is mostly sorted. Please do bear with me if any of your comments get caught in my ardent spam-fighting, and email me if they don’t show up. Cheers! London Calling I just got back from one of the awesomest holidays I’ve ever had (and when I say awesomest, I mean awesomest). I spent slightly under 3 weeks in England and Spain (namely London, Madrid and Barcelona - plus a day trip out to Brighton if you count that), with the majority of the time spent in London. It was bloody brilliant to be able to spend time with one of my best friends in the entire world. On our last day there, we realised that it’s pretty much been 4 1/2 years since the two of us have been permanently based in the same country, as I’ve been in Singapore and she’s been jetting all around the world with the last 3 years spent in London. Come next year, we’ll both be in China, which is as scary as it is exciting, and everyone should join me in casting meaningful looks her way in hopes of getting her into the same city that I’ll be in - Hong Kong. When bunny came up to join me, we proceeded to eat our way around that bit of Europe, and I’ve collected a total of 12 Michelin Stars in the past 18 days. I know putting it that way makes me sound like I have something to do with restaurants that have earned Michelin Stars, but really I just ate in them. A whole bunch of them. And while I’m the last person to say that stuffy chi-chi fine-dining is the only way to eat, it’s definitely something that’s not easy to do in Singapore, so I’m really thankful for the opportunity we had to taste the creations of some of the greatest chefs of this time. To give you guys a teaser of the proper posts to follow, you can already see from my flickrstream that I went to Petrus and Arbutus, but I also visited two of the three establishments which each have been awarded 3 of the coveted stars in England, namely Restaurant Gordon Ramsay (at Royal Hospital Road in London) and The Fat Duck (in Bray). The best meal of the trip (and - dare I say - that I’ve ever had), however, I will have to keep a secret for the time being, but all I’ll say is that it took place in Spain. Keep your eyes peeled, and I’ll try to get the photos and posts up and headed this way as soon as I can. :) It’s good to be back. Tastes Like Chicken! I finally picked up a Le Creuset cast iron pot about a week or two ago, and I’ve been in heaven ever since. The reason why I never owned one before this is really just because they’re so bloody expensive, and also there’s a bit of a space issue going on in my kitchen right now. But free vouchers solved one of the problems so I’m glad to announce that I’m now the proud owner of an awesome deep-frying, stewing, risotto-making machine. Or, well, vessel, rather. And it’s yellow. :) The first thing I did when I got back with it, apart from taking it out of the box to ooh and ahh a little more, was dig up some stew recipes I’d been wanting to try. I love stews, first because they taste so damn good, and second because they’re generally hassle free: you have about 15-20 minutes of active time prepping your food, then you ignore it for a good 30 minutes (or more) and all of a sudden dinner’s ready! Unfortunately, stews generally happen in larger portions than even bunny and I can finish, so I had to ring up a friend and bribe her into popping by for dinner. With dinner. The first dish I cooked was a delightful chicken stew, which is sort of a play on Coq au Vin (i.e. Chicken in Red Wine), only I used a hen and cooked it in a white wine (namely, riesling here). I also decided to thicken the gravy a little by enriching it with cream before I reduced it into a luscious sauce, and all that was missing was a crusty loaf of bread to mop up all the sauce with. Now, although most of us generally use cheap/crappy wines when we’re cooking with it (especially in such copious amounts), I would advise you to not just go out and get the cheapest bottle you can get your hands on. As with all ingredients, your quality of your final dish is always limited by the quality of the ingredients that you put into it, so while I wouldn’t waste a $800 bottle of wine in a dish where I wouldn’t be able to appreciate the subtle nuances of the wine, go pick up a decent bottle - which you should easily be able to within S$35 at your local supermarket. Poulet au Riesling 2 tbsp olive oil 20g butter 150g streaky bacon, cut into lardons 1 large chicken (about 2kg in weight), chopped into 2-inch pieces 2 carrots, roughly chopped 2 medium white onions, peeled and quartered 6 cloves of garlic, peeled but left whole 1 bottle of Riesling 400ml whipping cream 200g baby button mushrooms Italian flat-leaf parsley, chopped In a large, heavy bottomed pan, melt the butter with the olive oil on medium heat. When melted, add in the bacon and cook for a few minutes until lightly browned. Remove the bacon from the pan with a slotted spoon, and set aside in a bowl. Turn the heat up, then brown the chicken (in a few batches, if necessary - to prevent overcrowding). Remove the chicken from the pan, then lower the heat, and slowly cook the carrots, onions and garlic until the onion is softened but not coloured (about 5-8 minutes). Return the chicken and bacon to the pan, turn up the heat, and add all the wine. Quickly bring the liquid to the boil, then lower the heat and simmer partially covered for 30 minutes. Remove the chicken pieces from the stew, add in all the cream and boil to reduce the liquid until your desired consistency. It should have thickened enough to form a smooth sauce (somewhere around the consistency of whipping cream). While it is reducing, add in the mushrooms, stir through most of the parsley (reserving some for garnishing) and season with salt and black pepper. When ready to serve, add the chicken pieces back in and warm through. Yield: Serves 4 Right Side Up Chocolate Shots So a couple of days ago, Chubby Hubby posted about a dessert that kinda flopped for reasons he and S couldn’t figure out. I’ve mentioned before that my bunny isn’t a fan of anything chocolate at all, which means that I don’t really get the opportunity to play with chocolate very often. And while I’m not the world’s biggest fan of the stuff, I do enjoy it now and then. So the only logical thing for me to do was summon my chocolate fan friends (to consume it) and check out the recipe - and this way I could do something chocolatey without the bunny whining about not having a share of the dessert. As you’ll have read in CH’s post by now, the dish is really a white chocolate soup topped with chocolate whipped cream. The individual components are pretty easy to assemble, just melting the two types of chocolate separately in a bain marie, and mixing the white with single cream and milk to form a chilled soup (which actually tasted a little like condensed milk to me), and folding the dark (with a little cocoa powder) into lightly whipped cream, which is them loosened slightly with milk to form a mousse-like cream. Now for the assembly. The first one I tried was a little strange - the chocolate cream definitely floated, but because I kind of carelessly plopped it into the glass, it ended up suspended somewhere in the middle. Much like a very sad, dark brown iceberg. Because of the texture, I decided to try and let it “cling” to the sides of the glass, which seemed to work, until I got from one side to the other (moving across the diameter of the glass), where the white chocolate soup splashed up a little. Third time’s a charm, evidently, since I finally figured that since it was clinging easily to the sides, I should run a little around all the sides, then fill up the middle, essentially letting the dark cream cling onto the cream that was clinging onto the sides. If you understand my rather convoluted syntax. At the end of the mild adventure (once I’d gotten it right - everyone else wanted a go at it), I re-read the recipe to run through the steps again in my head. It seems like I may have overwhipped the cream a little in the dark chocolate layer, as I was only supposed to whisk it “until it just starts to thicken”. I went a liiiittle further and got it to in between “just starting to thicken” and “soft peaks”, which is what got me to that texture which was a little thicker than I would have liked if I were meant to drink that shot through a tiny straw, but hey - it worked. And it went through a normal straw just fine. Related: The upside down chocolate shot on Chubby Hubby (where you can also find the recipe to this dessert). I Feel Like Chicken Tonight I have a confession: I love KFC. I know it’s disgusting, I know it’s greasy, I know it doesn’t really taste like chicken and is served with stuff that doesn’t really taste like coleslaw and mashed potatoes either. But it’s KFC - its so bad it’s good. If I could, I’d probably veer towards Popeye’s for my fried chicken fix every so often. Problem being, the only Popeye’s I know of are both in Changi Airport (in Terminal 1 and 3), and that’s not exactly what you’d call my backyard. A friend of mine came back from Hong Kong for the long weekend, and I decided to make dinner for her. On the menu, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and coleslaw - that’s right, we were having homemade KFC. The chicken was really easy to do, I steeped it overnight in buttermilk that I had first infused with some dried rosemary and nutmeg. When ready to eat, I just dredged it thickly in all-purpose flour that was seasoned with a little more nutmeg, crushed dried rosemary, a couple of random other things I might have thrown in, salt and pepper. I then deep fried it at 180C until golden brown on the outside, and finished off the cooking in a 180C preheated oven. The sides were equally easy. I julienned half a head of purple cabbage and 1 large carrot, chopped some radishes into matchsticks and very finely sliced one scallion. I then tossed this to evenly distribute the vegetables before adding in my premixed dressing of 1 small bottle of store-bought mayonnaise (225ml), 5 tbsp of white wine vinegar (since I didn’t have any cider vinegar), 3-4 tbsp of caster sugar, and salt and pepper to taste. When well mixed, I just covered the nonreactive bowl with clingfilm, and chucked it in the fridge to sit for at least an hour. The potatoes were done in my usual style, i.e. peel them, boil them in salted water until tender, then mash with copious amounts of butter, season to taste with salt, then whip with cream and milk. The entire dinner was a breeze to make - especially since all I had to assemble at the end was the fried chicken. Once I crack a gravy recipe, I may just have found a KFC replacement; and right in my own kitchen! One A Penny, Two A Penny For the past year, there’s been one thing in particular that my bunny has been begging me to make. Ever since last Easter, she’s been pleading with me indefatigably to make her hot cross buns. All of us have one of those dishes - something that transports you back to your childhood; which reminds you of those times you’d spend curled up with your mom (or [insert significant relative here]), sneaking off to buy these treats which the two of you shared in secret, lest your dad find out and scold the both of you again for wasting money. That’s what hot cross buns are to bunny, and since last year I didn’t manage to make them for her, I made up my mind to get it done by hook or by crook this week. Now, that’s really easier said than done. You see, the last time I ate a hot cross bun was at least 10 years ago. Maybe even 15! I have no idea what they taste like anymore - apart from them being mildly sweet and being filled with dried fruit (which I don’t particularly like). All I really remember of them is that tune, and - even then - I often confuse it with the “Three Blind Mice” tune. Not a good start, I know. And although I’m more comfortable cooking savoury dishes, even when it comes to baking and desserts, I tend to prefer choosing recipes whose flavours and steps I can sort of envision as I read through them. None of the hot cross bun recipes I found really did that for me, so I ended up sorta winging it - taking a little from a Donna Hay book that I got last year, another from an issue of Waitrose Food Illustrated, and filling in the gaps in between with other recipes online, and then taking some creative leaps of faith. Baking them, too, was not altogether uneventful. Because of the mixture of recipes, I ended up not really having a guide to follow. I realise now that I probably should have tried one recipe in its entirety first before having taken some creative license, but hey, at least it turned out pretty well. Hot Cross Buns (based mostly on a recipe from Donna Hay’s Modern Classics Book 2) 1 tbsp active dry yeast 1/2 cup caster sugar 1 1/2 cups milk at about 35C 4 1/2 cups of unbleached all-purpose flour 1 tbsp mixed spice 2 tsp ground cinnamon 1 tbsp freshly ground nutmeg 1/2 tsp fine salt 50g unsalted butter, melted 1 egg 2 cups sultanas, mixed peel, candied cherries, or whatever else you can get your hands on 1/2 cup extra flour 2 tbsp vegetable oil (use something mild tasting) 1 tbsp water For glaze: 1/2 cup caster sugar 1/4 cup + 1 tbsp water 2 tsp powdered gelatine Gently stir the yeast into the milk with 2 tbsp of the sugar. Set it aside for about 5-10 minutes until it begins to froth, so you know that the yeast is active. Sift together the flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, mixed spice, and salt. Add the egg and melted butter into the yeast mixture, stir in the remaining sugar, then - using a small spatula - stir in the remaining dry ingredients until a sticky dough forms. Scrape the dough out onto a lightly floured surface, then knead until an elastic, springy dough forms (about 10 minutes). I re-dusted the surface with 2-3 tbsp more flour during this period. Place the dough into an oiled bowl, then cover with a damp dishcloth and set aside in a warm, draught-free place to rise until it has doubled in size (about 1 hour). Preheat your oven to 190C, and grease a 9″ square cake tin, then line with non-stick greaseproof paper. (I don’t have a 9″ square tin, so I used a couple of smaller ones.) When the dough has risen, scrape it back out of the bowl, and divide it into 12 pieces. Roll each piece into a tight ball, then place into your prepared baking tin. Leave to rise for another 30 minutes, or until the balls of dough have expanded such that they are very snugly sitting next to each other in the tins. Mix the extra flour, oil and water together, then pipe crosses onto the buns. Bake for 25-30 minutes or until well browned and springy but firm to the touch. While the buns are in the oven, make the glaze. Place the sugar and 1/4 cup water into a small, heavy-based saucepan on high heat until it dissolves. You may need to remove sugar crystals from the sides of the pan using a pastry brush dipped in water. Sprinkle the gelatine over the remaining 1 tbsp water, then add this to the pan once the sugar has dissolved. Boil for 1 minute, then remove from the heat. When the buns are done, remove them from their pans onto a rack to cool. Drizzle or brush the glaze over, then cool completely on the rack. Eat them toasted with plenty of butter. :) Yield: Makes 12 buns Note: Okay wow, I just youtubed the Hot Cross Buns nursery rhyme, and it’s not at all like how I remember. It’s actually rather awful. I know some of you are on your way to youtubing it now, so here you go. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. Nuggets of Heaven When I throw dinner parties, people seldom request for particular dishes. I’m virtually incapable of making any decisions, which means that while I can most likely put together any recipe that makes sense, make variations on traditional recipes, or come up with my own, I normally end up with a ridiculously long list of possible dishes, and it’s generally near impossible for me to cut them down and shape them into an N-course dinner. But that’s most people. Once in a while, someone will make a statement that starts to shape my menu along like, “I don’t like duck confit - it’s always very dry or way too salty.” And I’ll volunteer to change that perception. Or even better, “I WANT PROFITEROLES.” Those two statements, however, shaped up my menu for Wednesday’s dinner party. Profiteroles are something most people left behind in the 80’s, along with bad hair and strange music videos, but I personally love them. If done well, the fresh choux pastry forms a pillowy hollow into which vanilla bean-infused crème pâtissière is piped. Dust over with icing sugar, and then serve with chocolate sauce running down the sides of of the buns, and you have a nugget of heaven - ready to be consumed, leaving you speechless (or incapable of speech, perhaps, depending on the size of the pastry), as the flavours of the slightly salty choux, sweet and velvety custard, intense chocolate sauce come together in your mouth. Profiteroles with chocolate sauce 1 quantity choux pastry (recipe follows) 1 quantity crème pâtissière (recipe follows) 100g dark chocolate 20g butter whipping cream honey icing sugar to garnish Preheat your oven to 200C. Make the choux pastry, then fill a piping bag with a large plain piping tip. Pipe onto a large baking sheet lined with wax paper (or a silpat), forming about 30 mounds, leaving space between each mound for expansion. Bake for 15-18 minutes, until puffed and golden brown. Remove from the oven, cool on a rack and store in an airtight container for up to 2 days. Make the crème pâtissière, and store in a piping bag with a small plain nozzle in the fridge for up to 3 days. I personally prefer making it fresh, as it becomes a little stiffer and harder to pipe after it’s been sitting in the fridge. When ready to serve, melt the dark chocolate and butter in a heatproof bowl over a pan of simmering water until completely melted. Mix in honey to taste (I used about 1 tbsp?), and when fully incorporated, pour in enough cream so that the consistency of the chocolate is that of pouring cream. Using the nozzle of the piping bag, poke a hole in the base of a profiterole, and pipe in the custard until it starts to spill out of the bottom. Repeat to fill all the profiteroles. Stack them together on individual serving plates or in a huge mound in the middle, dust with icing sugar, then drizzle the chocolate sauce over. Choux Pastry (based from Gordon Ramsay’s Just Desserts) 5 tbsp milk 5 tbsp water 2 tbsp sweetened condensed milk 1/2 tsp fine sea salt 70g unsalted butter, cut into small cubes 85g unbleached all-purpose flour, sifted 3 large eggs, lightly beaten Put milk, water, condensed milk, salt and butter into a heavy-based saucepan. Heat gently until the butter melts. Bring the liquid to a boil, then add all the flour in at once. Remove from heat, stir until the mixture starts to come together, then return to low heat, beating vigorously until it becomes a smooth, thick paste that comes away from the side of the pan cleanly. Tip into the bowl of your standing mixer and leave to cool for about 5 minutes. Secure the bowl to your standing mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, then gradually work in the eggs a quarter at a time, increasing the speed to high for 10 second bursts between additions to aerate the mixture. Continue until you have a smooth paste which is roughly the texture of a stiff cake mix. You may not need to add all the egg. Cool until the choux is thick enough to spoon or pipe (5-10 minutes). Crème Pâtissière (adapted from Eggs by Michel Roux) 4 egg yolks 85g caster sugar 25g plain flour 3300ml milk 1 vanilla pod, split and scraped a litle icing sugar or butter Combine egg yolks and 30g sugar in a bowl and whisk it to a light ribbon consistency. Add the flour and whisk in thoroughly. In a saucepan, heat the milk with the rest of the sugar and the vanilla pod. Once it comes to the boil, pour it into the egg yolk mixture, stirring as you go. Return the mixture to the saucepan, and bring to the boil over a medium heat, stirring continuously. Allow the mixture to bubble for 2 minutes, stirring all the while, then tip it into a clean bowl. To prevent a skin from forming, dust the surface with a veil of icing sugar or dot all over with flakes of butter. Once cool, the pastry cream , still stirring, for two min, then tip it into a bowl. To prevent a skin forming, dust the surface w a veil of icing sugar or dot all over w little flakes of butter. Refrigerate once cool if not using immediately. Yield: 30-35 profiteroles, i.e. serves about 6-7. Photo credit: Photo at the start of the post was taken and uploaded by jon lin. Beautiful Belly Bunny’s friend came over for dinner last night, and since she’s been whining a little (okay a lot) about us leaving for HK, I decided to do a slightly nicer menu that I usually do for occasion-less dinner parties. I was originally intending to do 5 courses - a tasting portion of XO scallop pasta, cream of mushroom soup infused with thyme and truffle oil (which I talked about here), a roast pork belly, duck leg confit, and profiteroles for dessert. I got lazy in the end and scrapped the pasta, but still ended up with a 4 course dinner that managed to impress. While watching the Asian Food Channel one day, I saw a recipe for Pressed Belly of Pork on Gordon Ramsay’s The F Word. It seemed simple enough, and after a spot of googling, I found the recipe and decided to try it out. It was a great success, and everyone crunching away happily on their crackling loved it. I especially loved how tender the meat was, and the thin layer of soft fat remaining melted beautifully in contrast with the crackling. Also, it’s fairly simple to do, and - like most great recipes to pack away in the Entertaining section of your recipes folder - it’s best prepared the day before. I would probably add a splash of vinegar to the gravy though, as I thought it could have done with a slightly tart angle. Alternatively, spread a little dijon over your pork before digging in. Pressed Belly of Pork (Adapted from Gordon Ramsay’s The F Word) 1kg fresh pork belly, skin on 2 heads of garlic a bunch of fresh thyme (about 7 or 8 sprigs) white wine chicken stock (I made stock using a carcass and mirepoix of vegetables) sea salt freshly ground black pepper optional: dijon mustard Preheat the oven to 175C. Lay the pork belly on a clean cutting board, and using a very sharp knife, score the skin of the pork belly evenly in a criss-cross pattern. Season well on all sides with salt and pepper, a couple of glugs of olive oil, and rub the seasoning into the skin. Use the pork to mop up all the seasonings on the cutting board. Cut the garlic heads in half crosswise, then lay them - cut side up - in the bottom of an ovenproof pan or roasting tray. Rest the thyme on top of the garlic, then lay the pork belly over the garlic. This will prop the pork up to allow the fat to render out, and infuse the pork with the garlic and thyme while cooking. Pour about 100ml of white wine into the pan around the pork, cover loosely with foil, and roast for 2 hours. After 2 hours, take the pork out, let it rest on a cutting board, and make your gravy. Pour/spoon off all but 2 tbsp of oil from the pan, then heat it over a high flame. Deglaze the pan with white wine (I probably used about 200ml), then use a wooden spoon to scrape all the bits off the bottom of the pan, and mash the garlic heads and mix it in. Reduce by half, then add 100ml of chicken stock, lower the heat, and reduce to 1/3 the amount. Strain the gravy, pressing down on the garlic with the back of the wooden spoon. Let it cool, cover with clingfilm, and keep refrigerated. Transfer the pork, skin side up, to a non-reactive dish, and cover with another dish, pressing down. Weigh the top tray down with some tins, and chill in the fridge for 6 hours or overnight. When chilled, the flattened, compact shape will have set. When ready to serve, preheat oven to 250C. Cut the pork into cubes, and place on a baking tray lined with greaseproof paper. Bake for 15-20 minutes, or until the crackling is crispy, and the meat is completely warmed through. Scrape off the layer of fat from the gravy, then bring to a boil in a saucepan. Correct seasoning, then serve the pork belly with warm gravy Yield: Serves 6-8. Mushroom Soup I’m not a fan of mushrooms. In fact, I quite dislike them. There’s something about both the taste and texture which just doesn’t appeal to me. When I was a kid (and a fan of Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom soup - which, obviously, tastes nothing like mushrooms….), I never understood why dining in restaurants that served “home made mushroom soup” always meant that the soup would taste foul. A couple of years later, it suddenly dawned on me that it was the mushroomy taste I couldn’t stand. I know, I wasn’t the smartest kid on the block (tastewise anyway)! 6 months ago, when I started considering a career in a professional kitchen, I decided that it would be prudent to expand my tastes to beyond enoki and grilled button mushrooms which both don’t really taste particularly mushroomy. (Probably why I didn’t mind them so much.) I figured that even if I didn’t like them, I needed to know what they were supposed to taste like so that I’d be able to tell if a dish I was cooking was properly seasoned, whether or not I liked the mushrooms in them. This decision was a great joy to bunny, as she’s one of the hugest fans of mushrooms I’ve ever met, and has obviously been quite sore about my constant refusal to ever cook anything with mushrooms in it for her. Last night, I decided to make a mushroom soup for dinner. Mushroom soup is really easy to make, and if I were to do it at home, I figured I could control the taste such that it would be mild enough for me to enjoy, without completely hiding the mushroom taste. Furthermore, it negates one of the the two reasons I don’t like mushrooms - the texture. Here’s a recipe that’s really easy to do, and can easily be poshed up with a garnish of truffle oil for a dinner party. And lest you don’t believe that someone who hates mushrooms can make a dish filled with them, the other 3 mushroom-lovers at the table loved it, so hopefully that’s testament enough for you. :) Note: I made my own vegetable stock for this soup (simply boiling up a mirepoix of leek, celery, onion and carrot), but if you don’t have time nor the energy, just buy a tin of vegetable stock/broth. Be careful with the seasoning as some tinned stocks come salted, unlike the home made stock that I used. If you can’t find vegetable stock and aren’t cooking for vegetarians, you can always substitute light chicken stock. Mushroom Soup 1 large white onion, peeled and finely chopped 3 cloves of garlic, peeled and finely chopped 6 stalks of thyme, leaves picked 600g assorted mushrooms (I used a mixture of shiitake, swiss mushrooms, and porcini) olive oil 30g butter vegetable stock (I used about 1.5 litres) sea salt freshly ground black pepper 100ml cream, plus extra for garnishing optional: truffle oil, and a few sprigs of thyme Sauté the onion and garlic in a little olive oil in a medium-sized, heavy-based pot until translucent and fragrant. Add in the thyme leaves and heat through until the onion just starts to colour. Remove from heat and set aside. Slice the mushrooms, and sauté them in olive oil and butter in 3-4 batches until all the liquid that comes out has evaporated off. Salt them lightly while sautéing. I would also cook all the same mushrooms together and not mix them as different mushrooms may have different cooking times (i.e. sauté all the shiitake in one batch etc). As you are done cooking each batch of mushrooms, dump them all into the pot with the onions, garlic and thyme. Once all the mushrooms are done, pour in enough vegetable stock to cover the mushrooms by about 1-2cm (depending on how wide your pot is). Season well with pepper, bring the liquid to a boil, then reduce the heat to low, cover the pot partially and simmer for 45 minutes to 1 hour, stirring occasionally, and checking that the pot doesn’t dry out. Remove 1/2 cup of the mushrooms, roughly chop them, and return them to a clean pot which will fit all the soup. In batches, blend the mushrooms well and sieve them into the new pot. Add in the cream, and more vegetable stock if necessary to adjust the consistency to your liking, and bring to a simmer again. Taste, season with salt and black pepper, then keep warm until ready to serve. If you’re preparing this in advance, you can let it cool, then keep in a covered container in the fridge for 2-3 days. I like to serve my soups in a shallow bowl, with a splash of cream and a few drops of truffle oil, garnished with a sprig of thyme. Yield: Serves 6 1 + 1 = T3 Well, not exactly.. or.. something, but that’s what some ad in the newest terminal in Changi airport says. It’s definitely pretty, but it’s things like this that make me wonder exactly where all this money is coming from (and going to). That said, I’m really not complaining - the lounge in T3 is really excellent, down to the shiny new iMacs (the big-chinned ones), mighty mouses and super flat keyboards (that I have sort of decided are a little too flat), one of which I’m on now. Bunny and I are enroute to Beijing for a week. I’m not sure if I really officially updated anyone via this space, but at the end of last month, I completed my stint as stagiare in a restaurant kitchen. That was an amazing experience, and while I’ve got some time to think about whether or not I want to pursue this route, it’s definitely something I don’t regret trying out at all. In case you’re wondering where I’ve been for the past couple of weeks since I quit, I’ve essentially been hiding at home, and going on various random photowalks (a couple with jldlin) and… baking copious amounts of breakfasty/tea-time snacks for a bunch of greedy lawyers scattered throughout various banks. Thanks to said goodies, I even managed to get myself an offer for a summer internship. But I really don’t think that’s my cuppa tea. So anyway, all of you sweethearts who have been complaining that my blog is growing mold and slowly but surely dying away, fear not! I have returned. Or.. I will have returned once I’m back in Singapore from this trip. I have a trip to London and Spain booked for April this year (HELLO FAT DUCK. HELLO RAMSAY’S. MAYBE HELLO PETRUS.) and I’m hoping to steal some time away for another short trip either to KL, HK (it’s been too long!) or Melbourne where I have friends that I haven’t seen in faaaar too long. Alrighty, enough of this rambly-schmambly. I have to go hunt down my sillybunny. See you all in a few. In the meantime, do check out my flickrstream for live pictorial updates from the land of Peking Duck and a couple of rolls of film that I shot last week. Capella Ever since Chef Gary Kwang disappeared from Universal, my good friend and food buddy, Uncle P, who hunted him down and tracked him to Capella has been urging me to visit the restaurant with him. Yesterday, 5 of us finally managed to get it together and made it down to the restaurant for lunch. Capella is located in Chijmes, and sports a sleek dining area and one of the few open kitchens which isn’t A) a pretend open kitchen (i.e. only featuring the patisserie or garde manger stations), and B) incredibly neat and pretty! In fact, it looks pretty much like what my dream kitchen would be like. Thanks to this design concept, diners have front row seats to watch Chef Kwang in action while he prepares your meal. Chef Kwang came out to ask if he could prepare a special menu for us, and boy am I glad that I went for it! To start, we had an Egg Cocotte with Avruga Caviar, and Salmon Tartare with Dill [right]. Both were crazy delicious, and while I am not generally a fan of runny eggs (and especially not runny egg yolks), the cocotte - which had a raw egg yolk buried at the bottom of the eggshell it was served in - was a very promising start to the meal. Next, we were served a velvety velouté of leek and potato, with grilled scallop, mushrooms and truffle oil [left]. Again, the flavours were very well controlled in this dish and had us scraping the bottoms of our bowls in minutes. For the main course, all of us chose the grilled tenderloin, which was served with breaded sweetbreads, morel sauce, cherry tomato confit and beetroot purée [pictured at start of post]. While I felt that the plate was a little cluttered - which is something I’ve noticed that Chef Kwang has a tendency to do with his main courses - every single item on the dish was faultless, taste-wise. I especially enjoyed the sweetbreads, which really aren’t that common in our local dining scene. These were done to perfection, with a crisp, flavourful crust and an almost-creamy interior. I could have eaten far more than the 3 pieces I was served. In fact, I’m even a little inspired now to try cooking them on my own at home. To close the mind-blowing meal, Chef Kwang served us his home-made cannelloni with chocolate mousse and brandied cherries [below]. The silky texture of the mousse paired beautifully with the crunch of the cannelloni. While I love this Italian dessert, I’ve also found that too often it ends up ridiculously heavy and overpoweringly rich, which - thankfully - was not a problem with this dish. I had an excellent meal at Capella, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t just because I was there with a friend of the very talented chef. I’m definitely going to go back again really soon - in fact, I’ve already booked several friends for lunch there when I’m back from Beijing. Reservations are encouraged for dinner, but on weekdays it seems pretty safe to just pop in for lunch. Capella 30 Victoria Street #01-29 CHIJMES Singapore 187996 T: +65 6334 9928 F: +65 6334 9927 E: capella@starworth.com.sg Feeling Crabby I love crab. However, as a fan of crustaceans in general, I usually find myself opting for the easier-to-reach variety like prawns, lobster, and crayfish. Hence, it’s really no surprise that I’m a huge fan of crab cakes - they simply spell out delicious crab without all the hard work of digging through the shells for the gorgeous little nuggets of flesh. One problem, however, is that the crab cakes one finds in most restaurants, cafes and bars these days are really more fish cakes than crab cakes. Worse, many of them have mountains of fillers in them - ranging from breadcrumbs to mashed potatoes. More often than not, I end up feeling like I’m eating a korroke (a little lump of minced meat which is encased in mashed potato, battered, breaded and deep fried as a popular Japanese snack item) rather than crab cakes. These, to me, should have chunks of crab meat, plenty of fresh flavour, fried to golden brown perfection on the outside and steaming hot on the inside. Also, I personally prefer them served with a fairly simple sauce which will heighten the flavour more than drown out the fishiness which diners hopefully won’t detect. Having found a tub of claw crab meat, I decided to try out making these things on my own. I would, of course, recommend that you use live crabs which you kill and cook on your own as nothing beats them, but if you don’t have the time (or can’t be bothered like me), you can easily find good quality pasteurised crab meat in tins nowadays. I also added a bit of potato as I felt that it lightened the texture significantly in an amount that would not detract from the taste of the main ingredients. Crab Cakes with Basil Aioli For the crab cakes: 400g white fish fillets (I use dory) 1 egg 50g boiled potato 400g crab meat (either a mixture of dark and white meat from a live crab, or claw meat from a tin) salt & freshly ground pepper to taste 1 tbsp freshly squeezed lemon juice 5 cloves of garlic, finely minced 1 small red onion, finely diced about 1/2 cup Japanese panko for breading canola oil (or any other mild tasting oil) for deep frying Cut the fish into small chunks, then blitz with the egg, potato, and garlic in a food processor until sticky and completely pulverised. This helps them to bind together without the use of breadcrumbs and other fillers. In a medium mixing bowl, fold the fish paste, crab meat, lemon juice, and onion together. Season with salt and pepper, then break off a little piece and fry it to check your seasoning. Divide the mixture into 15 balls, roll them tightly, then press to flatten into a disc that’s 0.5cm thick. Roll in panko to coat, then refrigerate for at least 30 minutes or until ready to cook. For the aioli: 1 egg yolk 1 large clove of garlic, finely minced 100ml olive oil (not extra virgin) 2 tbsp lemon juice salt 5 large leaves of basil, cut into chiffonade Whisk the egg yolk and garlic together until the colour turns pale. Slowly drizzle in the oil, whisking continuously to emulsify, and continue until all the oil is used up. Whisk in the lemon juice and salt to taste, then stir in the basil. Keep refrigerated in a covered container until ready to serve. To serve: Heat about 1cm of canola oil in a heavy based saucepan to 170C. Fry for 1-2 minutes on one side until golden brown, then flip over to finish cooking. You know that the cakes are cooked through when a metal skewer pierced into the middle of the cake feels hot on your lower lip. Serve with basil aioli. Yield: Makes 15. Unfortunately Work seems to be getting the better of me. Now that I don’t even have my regular Monday off to muck about in the kitchen/treat myself to a nice dinner with the bunny, I don’t really know what there is to talk about here. I’m not leaving, and I’m not closing this down, but I thought I should let you guys know the reason why I seem to be rather quiet of late. I have a couple of drafts which are all half-written, so hopefully when I get a minute I’ll be able to finish them (and the accompanying photos) up. Till then, be good. Continuing The Love Affair As I mentioned in my last post, I love eggs. Bunny’s got a colleague who’s been seconded to Singapore for the past few months, and will be leaving next month to return to a freezing cold winter and very little good (Asian) food - which he and his wife have both come to love. As such, we decided to host him (and another colleague) for dinner tonight, and I had quite a lot of fun playing around in the kitchen. For our starters, I made the miniature eggs benedict again - this time, thankfully, remembering to include the bacon. Next up, I served my Bakkuttini (pictured below, with the burger) - a deconstructed version of bak kut teh, where I shred the meat and mix it with a reduction of the broth, pile it into a pyramid in the centre of a martini glass and serve the broth around it - which I chose because it’s my take on a very local dish, which apparently they haven’t had the chance to try (and are now dying to). S especially loved it - and by that I really mean the queen of puns was enamoured with the name, more than the dish. :P The main course was a mini cheese burger, done the usual style with a slice of emmental melted over the top. Delightfully juicy patties, a sauce of Japanese mayo, chilli sauce, brown sauce and some worcestershire dolloped over the bun, a little rocket, thinly sliced cherry tomatoes, all encased in a mini butter roll. After a palate cleanser of orange sorbet came the highlight of the meal - Reconstructed Lemon Eggs (pictured at start of post). Now, I’ve been wanting to try this - and a whole bunch of other recipes - from Michel Richard’s Happy In The Kitchen. There are so many ridiculously innovative and creative ideas in there; the book completely blew my mind when I first started flipping through it. My favourite part of the book is when Richard explores the concept of trompe l’oeil, or playing tricks on the eye - that is when he has an item which looks like something, but is actually a completely different entity. For example, I can’t wait to try his Virtual Egg - something that looks exactly like half a hard-boiled egg, but really has mozzarella cheese for the “egg white” and yellow tomato for the “yolk”. Today, I stuck with something a lot easier. The reconstructed lemon eggs are essentially a layer of lemon curd, sandwiched between two layers of meringue and served in an egg shell, so that when you dip your spoon in, it’s almost like eating a soft boiled egg. They’re really easy to make and taste divine, and I’d encourage anyone who’s entertaining soon and looking to impress (without killing yourself in the kitchen) to give it a shot. Reconstructed Lemon Egg (adapted from Happy In The Kitchen) 6 large eggs 1/4 cup of granulated sugar 1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (I used the juice from about 3 medium sized lemons) 25g unsalted butter, cut into cubes Special equipment: a cardboard egg carton egg topper or serrated knife disposable piping bags blowtorch Preheat the oven to 120°C. Cut off the narrow end of each egg. I started out using an egg topper, but it didn’t work too well, so if you don’t have one (or don’t have one that works well), lay your egg on a towel, and saw halfway through using a serrated knife firmly but gently. Hold the egg upright, and remove and discard the tops. Empty the contents into a bowl, and separate two of the egg yolks from the egg whites, and reserve the other four whole eggs for another use. Ensure that the whites are completely free of yolk - if any of the yolks broke, use “clean” whites from the other eggs. Cover the bowl containing egg whites with clingfilm and set aside at room temperature. Place the yolks into a large heatproof bowl. Wash out the shells, and pull the membrane out from the inside. Discard. Remove any chipped pieces from the edges of the shell, and discard. Turn the eggs upside down, place them in the egg carton, and place in the oven for a few minutes to dry out. For the lemon curd, whisk 1/8 cup of the sugar into the yolks until pale and creamy. Add in the lemon juice, whisk, then place over a bain-marie and add the butter in one piece at a time. Carry on whisking until the curd has thickened to a thick custard (about 8 minutes), ensuring that the whisk comes into contact with the bottom of the bowl to ensure that none of the egg yolk gets overcooked. Press a piece of clingfilm down to the surface of the curd to prevent a skin from forming (but use a sharp knife to poke a couple of holes in the clingfilm so it can still “breathe”), and let cool to room temperature. Refrigerate until cold. This can be made up to 3 days in advance. For the meringue, place the egg whites in the bowl of your KitchenAid stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, and whisk on high speed until very foamy and fluffy (there should not be any liquid egg white at the bottom of the bowl anymore). Slowly start adding in the other 1/8 cup of sugar, and continue to beat on high until stiff, glossy peaks form. Fill one piping bag (or large ziplock bag) with the meringue carefully, then fill the another with the lemon curd. Cut a small opening (about 1/4 inch in diameter) in the bags to pipe, or use 1/4-1/2 inch plain tips. Stand the dry egg shells, cut side up, in the egg carton. Pipe the meringue into the egg shells, filling each one about 1/3 fill. Pipe the lemon curd onto the whites so the shells are two-thirds full. Pipe more meringue, allowing it to mound over the top, making a small dome. Brown the tops of the meringue with a blowtorch (or if you don’t have one, preheat your broiler with the rack in the upper third of the oven and place the carton on a baking sheet and under the broiler to brown the meringue). Serve immediately in individual egg cups. Yield: Makes 6. One each was just about right for a small dessert at the end of a 5 course meal, but you can easily double this recipe - as it was originally intended to be - and serve each person two eggs. I just got a refill. Eggstraordinary I love eggs. No, seriously, I love eggs. You know how you always have one retarded friend who’d take it upon themselves to inflict misery on you by forcing you to imagine what it would be like to only have one thing in the world that you could eat for the rest of your life? When that retarded friend of mine comes along, I always say eggs. (Maybe with prawns.) As I mentioned previously, there’s a new cookbook store in town. And the first book that I picked off the shelves was Michel Roux’s Eggs. While my interest was simply piqued thanks to the rather in-your-face cover, I was immediately sold when I flipped through and found pages and pages of beautiful recipes, all of which either primarily feature eggs, or are on dishes whose specific characteristics rely on the behaviour of eggs (in whole or in part) to provide those features. And, as if I needed any more encouraging, amazing food photography accompanies the majority of these pages. On Monday, I was due to cook for a friend’s birthday, while her girlfriend was out of town. (Babysitters.com, remember?) Unfortunately, she fell sick in the end, and hence the meal that was planned for her never really made it out the door. Or, it did, but it went straight into someone else’s mouth. Wei, lurking around after her immensely satisfying visit to 25 degree Celsius, quickly volunteered to fill in, and was hence treated to beer battered fish and chips, served with malt vinegar, tartar sauce, and some mustard Hollandaise. But I’m getting ahead of myself. For our starters, I wanted very much to try a recipe that I saw in the abovementioned book. Its a recipe for sunny side up quails eggs, on miniature (4cm in diameter!) toast rounds and served with a light Hollandaise. However, due to some developments at work, I’m also a little obsessed with poaching eggs at the moment. Further, the bunny has been pleading with me - and making the bunny face - asking for Eggs Benedict for the longest time. Hence, I did a miniature version of Eggs Benedict, sans the bacon (which I kind of forgot about). Mini Eggs Benedict (inspired by a recipe from Michel Roux’s Eggs) 8 quails eggs (plus one or two extra if you’re not confident) 2 slices of plain white bread melted butter white vinegar 2 rashers of streaky bacon, halved crosswise. chives to garnish mustard Hollandaise (recipe follows) Saw off the rounded ends of your quails eggs with a serrated knife, and place them in individual saucers. Bring a deep pot of water (at least 8-10cm deep) to the boil and add 2 tbsp of vinegar. This will help the egg whites to coagulate. When it starts to boil, gently tip one saucer at a time into the water where the bubbles are, then use a spoon to swirl the water around the egg to create a ‘whirlpool’. Let it cook for about 45 seconds over medium-low heat, and when cooked (press gently on the yolk to ascertain if it is done to your liking), remove using a slotted spoon, and transfer to an ice bath to arrest the cooking process. Repeat with the rest of the eggs. When all the eggs are cooked, use a small knife to trim the edges. This can be done up to 2 days in advance and stored in the fridge in a bowl of cold water. Prepare the mustard Hollandaise, and grill the bacon in the oven until crisp. Use a 4cm pastry cutter and cut two rounds from each slice of bread. Toast the bread lightly on both sides until golden, then brush one side with the melted butter and keep warm. Heat a small saucepan of water to a simmer, then immerse all the eggs in for 10-15 seconds, just to warm through. To serve, place one toasted round on each plate, buttered side up. Place one piece of crisped bacon on the bread, then top with two poached quails eggs. Cover half of each quails egg with some mustard Hollandaise, then serve a little extra on the side in a small spoon. Garnish with chives. Yield: Serves 4. Mustard Hollandaise 1 tsp white wine vinegar 1/2 tsp white peppercorns, crushed 1 egg yolk 65g clarified butter, cooled to tepid 1-2 tbsp lemon juice 20ml double cream 10g Dijon mustard sea salt and powdered white pepper Mix the vinegar with 1 tbsp cold water and the crushed white peppercorns in a saucepan. Reduce by one third, and leave to cool. Add egg yolk to the cold reduction, and whisk. Place your saucepan on a heat diffuser and whisk continuously until the sauce emulsifies, becoming very smooth and creamy after 8-10 minutes, with the heat gradually increasing. Do not allow the temperature to rise above 65C. Off the heat, still whisking, drizzle the tepid clarified butter in a steady stream. Stir in the lemon juice, and pass the sauce through a muslin lined chinois to eliminate the peppercorns. Whip the double cream in a bowl to soft peaks, then mix in the mustard until evenly blended. Whisk the mustard cream, little by little, into the Hollandaise. Season with sea salt and powdered white pepper to taste, and serve. Note: The Hollandaise will not keep for long, so prepare it as close to serving as you can. Otherwise, keep it warm in a bain-marie (with hot water - not simmering water), with some clingfilm pressed down to the surface for an hour at most. Red Velvet That is, the cupcakes. Red Velvet Cakes have rather befuddled me for quite a while now - try as I might, I can’t really seem to find a satisfactory explanation as to why one would want such unnaturally coloured food! According to wikipedia (every student’s favourite source), the red colour first came about as a reaction between the vinegar in the cake and the cocoa powder, and following the introduction of Dutch Processed cocoa powder, red food colouring has since stepped up to enable us to recreate the deep red hue, as the increase in alkalinity results in a dramatic decrease in this colourful reaction. I don’t actually remember when I first heard about these peculiar cakes. But I do remember thinking that it was such a delightful sounding name - Red Velvet brings to mind the image of a deep burnished hue, and a creamy, luscious texture. Having seen a whole bunch of recipes that differ quite dramatically from each other, I approached The Chin Chai Chef and got the original NY Times recipe that hers was based on. Like her, I decided to go with the Orange-Ginger Cream Cheese Frosting (without omitting the ginger, this time), and the results proved lovely. After all, it’s difficult to fail with orange and chocolate. :) Red Velvet Cupcakes (Adapted from the NY Times) 3½ cups cake flour 1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa (not Dutch processed) 1½ tsp salt 2 cups canola oil 2 cups granulated sugar 3 large eggs 3 tbsp red food colouring 1½ tsp vanilla extract 1¼ cup buttermilk 2 tsp baking soda 2½ tsp white vinegar Preheat oven to 180°C and line your cupcake tray with liners. Whisk flour, cocoa powder, and salt in a bowl. Place oil and sugar in the bowl of your KitchenAid fitted with the paddle attachment and beat at medium speed until well blended. Beat in eggs one at a time, scraping down the sides as necessary. With the machine on the lowest speed possible, add red food colouring carefully, as it may splash. Add the vanilla, then add the flour mixture in two batches, alternating with the buttermilk. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and beat just long enough to combine. Place baking soda in a small dish, stir in the vinegar and add to batter with machine running. Beat for 10 additional seconds. Divide the batter amongst the cupcake liners (I filled mine just over half full - about 55-60g of batter per cupcake), then place in oven and bake for about 20-22 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the centre of the cupcake comes out clean. Remove the cakes from the tray and cool on a wire rack completely before frosting. Orange-Ginger Cream Cheese Frosting (adapted from a Martha Stewart recipe) 100g unsalted butter, at room temperature 500g cream cheese, at room temperature 100g icing sugar, sifted finely grated zest of one medium preferably unwaxed orange 1 tsp finely grated, peeled fresh ginger pinch of salt In the bowl of your KitchenAid fitted with a paddle attachment, beat butter on medium-high speed until light and fluffy; about 2 minutes. Add cream cheese, beat until well combined and fluffy; another 2 minutes. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and beat for another 30 seconds. Add remaining ingredients and beat for 5 minutes. Frosting can be kept at room temperature, covered with clingfilm, for up to 2 hours. Yield: 30 Cupcakes and enough cream cheese to frost them all! It’s Getting Hot In Here Well, not quite hot, but things are certainly warming up with new kid on the block 25 degree Celsius. A couple of days ago, a dear friend texted to say that she’d found a new cafe/cookbook store in Keong Saik Road (just down from 1929, and across from Whatever cafe). Very familiar with my compulsion for buying things-that-I-already-have-too-many-of (i.e. cookbooks - and also teeshirts), she then requested that I not tell the bunny where this tip came from. I’d imagined that it would be more of a cafe with a few shelves of cookbooks on sale, but 25°C is more accurately described as a small bookstore, devoted entirely to cookbooks (and a few non-recipe-books related to food), with a test kitchen and a small seating area for the cafe at the rear. I felt like I’d stepped straight into heaven - conversely, and into bunny’s worst nightmare - when I crossed the threshold. Floor to ceiling shelves! Lined with cookbooks! On almost any topic imaginable! By all manner of authors! And reasonably priced too! I first visited 25°C on Saturday, just stopping in to check it out and grab a cup of coffee - which was delicious, by the way! Apparently, it’s a secret blend they import from Taiwan. I left almost 2 hours later with my pockets significantly emptier, and loaded with four books to add to my already sagging shelves. And mind you, I only left with four since I was limited by she-who-guards-the-bookshelf. Of the four, my favourite has to be The Cookie Sutra, which I only spotted because I accidentally knocked it off the shelf while staring at the books on baking, but immediately had to buy when I flipped through it for its hilarious pictures and witty quips. (Take a look inside and you’ll know what I mean.) Having been dragged out against my will since it was time for me to head back to work, I made a reservation for lunch there today, and invited two friends who share my love for food (and cooking) to join me in the heart of the Bukit Pasoh Conservation Area. I was really eager to try out the food there (having spotted duck confit on the menu), and couldn’t have been gladder that I did. In the end, I decided to go with the minute steak, which was a lovely melt-in-your-mouth slice of beef, lightly marbled with fat and so incredibly tender that I actually got a slight shock when my knife went through it with almost no effort at all. The confit, which both my friends had, however, was a little overcooked and ended up being slightly tough around the edges - which was a pity - but the one thing that both dishes shared were the friggin’ unbelievably tasty potato sides. The confit was served with a caramelized onion mash, and I had pan-fried potatoes which were lightly crisped on the outside and so fluffy on the inside to go with my steak. The three of us also shared two desserts - a sticky date toffee pudding that was drenched in butterscotch and flavoured with plenty of nutmeg, along with a warm Valrhona chocolate fondant which tasted like pure, crazy-delicious chocolate fudge. I’m so glad that I’ve found this place. It’s a lovely quiet-ish, cosy refuge from the hustle and bustle of the area, and one that’s rather reminiscent of an English book cafe you’d escape the thick of winter in, warming up over a steaming cup of tea and a good read. They encourage browsing - so long as you don’t do it with food on the table - and I forsee myself spending many Monday afternoons hanging out here, and I’d definitely recommend like-minded cookbook junkies to head on over too! 25 Degree Celsius 25 Keong Saik Road #01-01 Singapore 089132 Tel: +65 6225 5986 Rabbits Eat Carrots (A Sort-of Birthday Post) And my bunny is no different. Today’s her birthday, and since I’ve made a habit of baking something on Mondays - my off day - I decided to let her pick what I’d bake this week. I had hardly finished asking her when she immediately squeaked, “CAAAN WE HAAAVE CARROT CUPCAKES? WITH THE LITTLE BABY CARROTS?” She was talking about these little sugar decorations that we’d chanced upon while in Sydney over my birthday, which I’d conned her into buying. When we first moved in together, Bunny and I would go out for a nice dinner at least once a month - “date night” we called it. Date Night was really just our excuse to go out and splurge on ourselves. Ever since we moved into our current apartment that came with a nice kitchen that I’ve since fastidiously decked out, instead of going out to spend time together, we now love nothing more than being able to have a quiet night in, just the two of us, over a meal that I’ve cooked for her. Since I’ve started work, we obviously can’t eat together - whether at home or dining out - as much as we would like. As such, I thought I’d not just bake cupcakes, but cook dinner for the two of us at home. On the menu were Pork Chops with a Mustard Sauce (from Nigel Slater’s The Kitchen Diaries, a book that’s bursting at the seams with oodles of thoroughly English recipes), a beautiful orange sorbet from the same book, and - as requested - Carrot Cupcakes. I know many people (my age) looking in would imagine that she and I lead rather boring lives - we both go to work, we hardly see each other till after 11 at night. We don’t even get weekends together. When we have time to spend together, instead of going out and painting the town red, we opt to stay in and lie in each others’ arms, just enjoying the quiet silence of each others company. Yet, there’s nothing more that I could want in this world. Nothing gets me through those days where I spend 12 hours standing in a hot, humid kitchen, assembling starter and dessert after starter and dessert than knowing that at the end of the day, she’ll be there for me to climb into bed right next to and fall asleep with, and that no matter how smelly I am, and no matter how loud I snore, she’ll be here by my side. Happy birthday baby. I’m so glad I’ve been able to spend the last 3 with you, and I look forward to the next 50 together. You’re My Dreamgirl Too So I have this friend, and she and I have this longstanding love affair, only we can’t be together ‘cos we’re both with other people. To cope, she decided to settle for second best: friend: you know something? me: YOU LOVE ME. friend: okay now you will never know. friend: eejiot. me: :( me: tiao me. me: priiiiis. me: i lubchiu. friend: lol me: -tugs sleeve friend: okay i lubchiu too (so easy) friend: aww me: *teh to the maxness* me: wait that was it? friend: OKAY MY NEXT GF’S AUTOMATIC RESPONSE TO EVERYTHING WILL BE LUBCHIU TIAO ME TUG AT SLEEVE me: oh god. friend: that’s right. me: no. oh god. you just based the prototype of your next gf on something i said. friend: don’t you love it? LEER LEER. Anyway, we were talking online today, as usual, and I was whining - also as usual - about how I want more teeshirts. And I showed her this one. friend: i like that tee too! and i will marry the girl who goes and makes me one. LOL me: hahahaha yes and tugs at your sleeve to get your attention right? once she’s made you the sammich. me: omg i’m blogging this. won’t name you. friend: lolllll do it. hahahahha. So if there exist any (preferably Japanese or Vietnamese) girls out there who are at most 167cm in height, and you spot a cute chick (LEER LEER) wearing this teeshirt, you know what to do. Culina Enoteca Culina has been not just one of Singapore’s major produce suppliers to restaurants, but also where most serious foodies-who-cook will make pit stops at to pick up items that may be difficult or near impossible to find in their local supermarkets, especially when preparing for a dinner party. Recently, Culina opened a third branch at Dempsey, alongside their existing Bukit Timah and Orchard Boulevard retail stores. To be completely honest, I’m really not a fan of the Dempsey area. I used to go there to eat at Samy’s (southern Indian curry) when I was younger, and always associated it with a mildly rural-ish sort of feel, considering all those funny little bike huts and art galleries scattered around the area. I loved it then. I liked it still when a wine bar opened, and I was even quite anxious to check out PS Cafe when it opened. (I was quite disappointed, apart from the brunch.) However, ever since it’s become the hip new place, I’ve been steering clear of it. It’s probably similar to how I can’t stand One North @ Rochester Park - too often, I get scared by hip places as - and I know I’m stereotyping - too often they spell high prices, bad food, mediocre drinks, and horrific patrons. However, just before I started work, Bunny and I had been not just trawling Sydney for the best food we could get our grubby hands on, but also exploring as much of Singapore as we could, seeing as I wouldn’t have much of a chance to eat out with her once I started in the F&B industry. One of the places we wanted to check out, was Culina Enoteca - or the little café/restaurant in Culina’s Dempsey branch. We popped by on a Monday just before noon, were pleased to find that we had almost the entire area to ourselves, and settled in for a quiet lunch. Now, Bunny has a long-standing love-hate relationship with bagels. She’s probably be hugest fan of bagels one could find in Singapore, aka the land where “bagel” is synonymous with Starbucks, at best, and at worst, a ring-shaped brick of stale dough. You can imagine her delight when she found that the smoked salmon sandwich (pictured above) was served in a fresh onion bagel, that’s right, she went a bit mad. And she had every right to, as this bagel was amazingly fresh, and beautifully fluffy, all while retaining its crisp exterior. The filling, however, disappointed a little, as it looked a bit more like a cream cheese bagel topped with a light scattering of smoked salmon, instead of a smoked salmon bagel with a little cream cheese. The onions, also, were sliced a little too thickly and had to either be avoided, or they’d completely overwhelm the flavour of the salmon and cheese. My steak sandwich (pictured at start of post), however, was delicious. The beef was really juicy and had just enough fat such that it was oozing with flavour, but no huge chunks to make me gag on. (I don’t like eating soft fat. I only eat the crisp sort - like on siew yoke.) The beautiful ciabatta buns were also smeared with english mustard, which had just enough kick to it. It was, in fact, the most fruitful morning, as I even managed to pick up some truffle honey (I will make ice cream soon) and had a stroll through jones the grocer where I found a few other bibs and bobs. While I can’t vouch that Dempsey will be as pleasant an experience on weekends, I had a lovely time there that Monday morning, and I intend to visit it soon on one of my off days. Culina at Dempsey Block 8 Dempsey Road #01-13 Tel: 6474-7338 Donuts I like donuts. I’m not one of those who will queue for three hours, nor someone who insists that friends studying/working in cities like London or Sydney must buy me Krispy Kremes whenever they come back on summer/winter break. (I only requested for Krispy Kremes once!) But I do like donuts. And I don’t understand this donut craze in Singapore now, though I reckon it’ll phase out soon enough - just like what happened with Bubble Tea and those Roti-Boy/Mama/Papa/family-member coffee buns and so on. As those of you who read this space should know by now, I recently started work in a restaurant kitchen. It’s definitely tiring stuff, but I’m enjoying it. However, one thing that cooking for a living has made me miss is cooking at home for fun - pottering around in the kitchen just ‘cos I feel like making [insert dish], because I’m having dearly loved friends over and want to whip up a meal for them that I’ve spent days or even weeks planning, or - better yet - because I want to surprise my bunny once she gets home from work. Thankfully, being in a professional kitchen 6 days a week hasn’t made me want to hurl the moment I step in my house and set eyes on my own beloved kitchen. That would pose a few problems, the biggest of which being that this job is clearly not for me. I’m glad to report that on my first day off, after having spent the morning rolling around in bed and getting a (foot) massage, my main activity of the day constituted flour, eggs, milk, yeast, sugar, and deep frying - that’s right, I made donuts. Mini donuts, if you will, since I didn’t feel like doing the entire recipe (I halved it) and used a tiny cutter since this way the entire thing can fit in your mouth (albeit rendering you unable to speak for a minute or so) and one won’t sprinkle sugar everywhere when munching on these deep-fried, sugar-coated goodies. So here’s the recipe I used, and for those of you who love donuts, but - like me - can’t be arsed to spend hours at a time queueing for them, I’d recommend making your own. Sure, it also takes about 3-4 hours from start to finish, but at least you’re not stuck in a line, and most of that time is just spent letting the dough rise. Besides, none of those shops can beat a fresh donut, rolled in sugar while it’s still hot out of the oil. Yeasted Doughnuts (adapted from Baking Illustrated) 1½ cups unbleached all-purpose flour, plus 3 tbsp, and extra for dusting ¼ tsp salt 3½ tbsp caster sugar, plus extra for rolling (about ½ cup should suffice) 1/3 cup milk at blood temperature (about 35°C) 1 egg 1 1/8 tsp instant dried yeast 3 tbsp unsalted butter, softened but still cool, cut into 6 pieces vegetable oil for deep frying 1 tbsp ground cinnamon, optional Beat the milk, egg, and ½ a tbsp of sugar together lightly in the bowl of your standing mixer, then add the yeast and stir it in gently. Set the mixture aside in a warm place for 5-10 minutes. Meanwhile, whisk together 1½ cups of the flour, salt and the rest of the sugar in a medium bowl. Once there are bubbles on top of the yeast mixture, secure the bowl in your standing mixer fitted with the dough hook attachment, add the flour, and mix on low speed until a ball of dough forms; about 3 minutes. Add the softened butter once piece at a time, waiting about 15 seconds between additions. Continue mixing for about 3 minutes longer, adding up to 3 tbsp of the remaining flour if necessary, until the dough forms a soft, but elastic ball. Place the dough in a lightly oiled medium bowl and cover with cling film. Let the dough rise in a warm and draught-free place for 2 to 2½ hours. After it has nearly doubled in size, scrape the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and, using a rolling pin, gently roll it to a thickness of 1-1½cm. Cut the dough out using a 1½-2 inch cutter, gathering the scraps and re-rolling if necessary. Place doughnut rings and holes on a floured baking sheet. Loosely cover with cling film and let rise at room temperature until slightly puffy, 30-45 minutes. Meanwhile, fit a candy thermometer in the side of a medium saucepan. Place oil in until the pan is at least half-filled, and there should be at least 2 inches of oil. Gradually heat the oil over medium high heat until it reaches a temperature of about 180-190°C. Fry the doughnuts 3-4 at a time until golden brown, about 20-30 seconds per side for the rings, and 15-20 seconds per side for the holes. Remove the doughnuts from the oil and drain on a rack lined with kitchen paper until cool enough to handle, then roll in sugar (well mixed with the cinnamon if using) and eat as soon as possible! Yields about 20 small doughnuts, and will keep for a day in an airtight container at room temperature. Do It. Hello all. I’m alive. Just finished my first week of work and in fact I even found the inspiration to make donuts today. But that’s not the point of this post. (And I’ll write more on that later.) Unless you live under a rock, or in a tree trunk or maybe in the middle of a deserted island with no internet (but then how are you reading this post?), no phone, no newspapers and no anything, you’d know by now that section 377A of the penal code exists. And that it shouldn’t. Or maybe you think it should exist because you think that homosexuals are sick people who should be shot or jailed or shot in jail. But in that case you wouldn’t be reading this blog because you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me, seeing that I’m a bisexual woman in a homosexual relationship. Sign it. You know it’s the right thing to do. As much as I am not any kind of activist, this isn’t about activism, it’s about a human being’s right to privacy at his or her most basic level - and homosexuals are human beings. Humans deserve the right to love, and by NOT DOING ANYTHING, you are, by default, condoning our government’s preference for imprisoning two people for loving each other and being physically intimate with each other. That doesn’t sound right, does it? And even if you don’t think that homosexuality is alright, I’m sure you also know by now that for most people in homosexual relationships, sexual orientation is not a choice. And it’s not fair to imprison someone on the basis of something that they haven’t chosen. It’s like being imprisoned just because I’m female. Or because you’re male. Or because my hair is black, or my eye colour brown. Hell, it’s like imprisoning me because I’m above 150cm tall. Do it. And tell everyone you know to do it too. You know it’s the right thing to do. Macaron: A Dessert Restaurant Macaron is an interesting concept, as far as Singapore’s dining scene goes anyway. A dessert restaurant that doesn’t serve you post-dinner sweets, but treats FOR dinner, it’s not a particularly common sight on our sunny shores. (It might well be the first one, but I’m not 100% sure of it so I shall claim ignorance for the time being.) Now, my bunny is not that big a fan of desserts. Give her meat - cow, pig, poultry, game, anything - and she’s happy. But desserts? She’s the sort who’d swap her dessert for an appetizing-sounding appetizer, whereas I’m the one who’d forgo my starter to indulge my sweet tooth. (Actually, I’d probably just insist on all three, but nevermind that.) As you can imagine, it wasn’t too easy a feat to convince her to try this new-ish establishment. (more…) Travelling Light The biggest problem that I’ve found with this photography hobby of mine is that whenever I travel, I spend about 15 minutes packing the clothes and other amenities but about 3 days deciding on what camera gear to bring with me. Do I bring my 30D or can I bear to just fly with the film camera? How many rolls of film do I bring if I’m going film? How many less can I bring if I’m bringing both? Which film camera should I bring - one of the little ancient ones or my 1V which has the added benefit of sharing lenses with my 30D. Or do I just focus on the travelling and screw the cameras…….. nah. Maybe just the Ricoh. Flash, tripod, which bag can fit all? It never ends. Now that my camera (body) collection has hit 6 - and will increase to 7 on Saturday, also bringing the total number of brands with interchangeable lenses to 4, which is the biggest problem I forsee - my shoulders are getting tired in anticipation of where my indecision usually leads me: bring as many as I can heft around. (Let’s not even talk about whether or not to bring my laptop, which I do on longer trips.) Come August, I’ll be bidding goodbye (for a while at least) to my Asahi Pentax ME, which I’m permaloaning to a dear friend who flies off to Hong Kong for the foreseeable future. I’m flying on the 14th on a short pre-Vietnam trip to Hong Kong, and will be bringing the Pentax up with me to permaloan to her. It’s also just occurred to me that I should probably fly up with the Pentax (and its 2 lenses), the Ricoh, and a couple of rolls of film, which would mean that for the first time in my multiple-camera-owner life, I’ll be travelling with my Crumpler 4 million dollar home, instead of the 7. My shoulders rejoice! Save The Kittens! Michelle from syntaxfree found and rescued a pregnant cat, who has since given birth. Her home, however, is way too full of cats already to be able to house all 5 of them, hence she’s desperately looking for adoptive cat-parents for the since we all know the fate of unadopted kittens left to the overcrowded SPCA. I really wish I could take one - or two or twenty - but unfortunately there’s a clause in our tenancy agreement in which we’re not allowed to keep pets. I’m trying to convince bunny that they’re possible to keep incognito, but I don’t think I’m succeeding. Oh well, maybe our landlords will have a change of heart. Just in case I succeed in my venture, I’VE GOT MY EYE ON TIGERLILY AND/OR JACK SPARROW. (Yes, they have ridiculously cute names too.) For more information, please see the following posts Fuzzballs Seeking Good Homes If You’re Smitten, Adopt A Kitten on her blog, and/or email her at syntaxfree at gmail dot com. Edit: Looks like all the kittens are still there, WHAT’S UP PEOPLE? WHY ARE ALL OF YOU SO HEARTLESS. Bah. Also, I’ve decided that if I make a breakthrough with the landlord/bunny, I want Smee. Smeeeeeee. SMEEEEEE! *melts. (andjacksparrowandtigerlilyanddavyjones.) Simplify Media Simplify media is a lovely app that allows you to access your iTunes collection from a network of computers. It’s safe, it’s legal (since the music is just streamed and can’t be burnt onto a CD or anything on the non-host computers), it’s free and it makes life easy. Just download it, install it, add other computers to your network and share. Both mac and pc friendly. (via geeksugar)