15-minute French Toast Casserole

This is for anyone who finds pleasure in breakfast bread pudding.

This is for anyone who, like me, thinks french toast makes the perfect pre-study whip-up.

This is for anyone who delights in obtaining 100% satisfaction with a dash of rustic decadence after a mere 15-20 minutes.

Ok, it’s for anyone. Make it. It’s just so dead easy. My sisters thanked me, and they’re pretty picky eaters.

I was thinking of what to make this morning with the leftover brioche we had– no, not the good, grand sort found in artisan bakeries, but the pre-sliced, white-as-ice, chemically-laden stuff (I’m cringing as I type) from the cheap side of Cold Storage. Yes. My friends, work with what you have. I did just that. No regrets whatsoever. Of course, use the good sort if you have it. You’ll probably get less of the ‘wobbliness’ post-bake, a less sloppy (though I enjoy the wild messiness of a lovely pudding consistency) underneath, with better form and a crust which doesn’t burn as easily as the one I made. It just so happens that the brioche I used was slightly stale after being left in our Cold Room for quite a bit, so it was the perfect alternative for something all lush and fluffy and swanky, or a day-old French loaf or baguette. Make do. Happiness awaits.

This french toast casserole is chimerical and childlike in flavour, bearing a modern sweetness with the addition of good quality maple syrup at the bottom of the pan, and a thick, swelling custard which renders the bread all nice and gooey after a generous soak and bake. Plump, fluffy, sweet and magnificently soft. Sweet eggy clouds hiding beneath a brown sugar-crusted toasty top. Topped with more maple syrup, double cream and berries. Oh, that glorious crust. I mentioned this is only 15 minutes right?

What I like about this is that it’s more of a base recipe than anything. Appropriate toppings cover a wide range– caramelised bananas, pineapple and blackberries, orange/lemon zest, apple chunks coated in cinnamon, and if you want, sprinkle on a good handful of small cream cheese cubes to add a little more zing and a dash of creaminess between each bite. The sole reason for my happiness right now is this french toast right here. No kidding.

French Toast Casserole (serves 4-5)

Ingredients

3 and a half large, torn-up slices of brioche/ 2.5 cups of cubed bread of choice (sliced white/challah/French or Italian loaf/baguette)

3 eggs

1.5 cups whole milk

1 tsp cinnamon

1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp vanilla extract

2 tbsp white sugar

2 tbsp light brown/ demerara sugar

1/3 cup good quality maple syrup (not Aunt Jemima’s this time)

Preheat your oven to 220 degrees C (that’s 428 degrees F), and grease an 8×8 inch pyrex dish, or any square brownie pan you have, with cooking spray. Pour the maple syrup into the dish and move it around a bit so it’s coated nicely on the bottom. For the custard, in a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, white sugar, salt, vanilla, cinnamon.

Place your bread into the dish with maple syrup. It can be random or if you’re one of those neat freaks, go ahead and place your neat little cubes in pretty little layers. Pour the custard on top and press the bread down so all surface area, including the top, is in contact with the egg mixture. The very top would not be soaking in the custard, though.

Sprinkle the two tablespoons of light brown/demerara sugar evenly over the top, to yield the wonderful, crisp top after baking. Place the pyrex dish into the middle of the preheated oven and set the timer for 15 minutes. Serve the casserole hot, drizzled with cold double cream, more maple syrup and berries. If it’s a dessert, please take out the best vanilla ice cream you have!

Of course, since this is my first time trying this 15-minute wonder, I cannot guarantee a perfect bake after this period of time for everyone, due to different ovens, climates and the sort of bread you use. If the top is not golden and there is too obvious a wobble when you shake the dish a little, give it another 5-10 minutes. Most recipes actually require 30-40 minutes of baking, but the volume of bread and custard here is smaller than a typical serving for 6-8 people, and I’m only using an 8×8-inch pyrex dish.

That being said, this recipe is extremely versatile, so just keep an eye on the browning process and make sure everything in the dish is lovingly soaked. For french toast is love in itself, isn’t it?

Posted on June 21, 2014February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 1

Bistro du Vin (feat. the best salted caramel dessert)

Good food is magical. Surreal, almost, if the ambience and company is right. This is a long, long, long overdue post, but it took me a ridiculously long time as well to think of the perfect way to showcase it. Yes, it is my fault. Felix’s birthday was in the beginning of May, and this lunch was meant to celebrate that special date, his special 17th, and look, it’s already mid-June. He suggested this place and I just couldn’t say no, considering it was one of those quaint little corners I just always passed, always beckoning for a visit, and I just chant, ‘tomorrow, tomorrow’. Cue the quaintest little red corner and vintage French comic strips lining the low walls of this adorable hideout. The man you see above was quietly nibbling away at something or another, occasionally looking out the window, reminding me of the pleasures of dining on quality food alone. I wasn’t alone, but I was with the best ever company in the world. Those fresh, coarse locks and brown seafoam eyes are my vice. Second to none. No, there was no better company.

I’ll be frank– he’s more francophile than anglophile. I’m the opposite, or so I claim, but one cannot deny the gracious experience some spectacular French fare can provide. Honestly, guys, look at those beautiful diamond-rectangle slabs of fatty beauty below. Is that not one of the most gorgeous sights ever to exist? Bistro du Vin provides set lunches of superb quality and such decent prices. By the end of it all, and that was, what, a good 2 hours later, I was more than satisfied. And my wallet, for once, wasn’t crying out in pain.

pan fried foie gras (extra $8 with pickled onion and eggplant)

Alex sees onions, Alex sees nothing else.

The foie gras was wonder on a plate. Moist, perhaps not as fatty as it could have been (I’m thinking Au Petit Salut’s moreish version right now). The caramelised, pickled onions were sweet and glazed, offering good contrast to the steamy, superabundance of I-cut-like-butter fat. Two slices was perhaps a bit much, considering there were still two full courses to go. The full effects were weighing down like stale jelly in my stomach by the time I was through with the first few bites. In a sort of pleasant way. How odd.

baked camembert with smoked bacon, apple and toasted sourdough

His appetiser: soft, creamy, probably still mooing. The mild flavour of the cheese worked well with the hardy sourdough crust, the sourdough providing a pleasant, light sourness, and the cooked apple and salty hit of bacon. Once again, practically a meal in itself.

bouillabaise of fish, clams, mussels and prawns — bouillabaisse of fish, clams, mussels and prawns

This was my main, which was more filling than it looks. The broth was soft yet hearty, brimming with all flavours of the sea. The fish, and sadly I forgot to ask what sort it was, was overcooked and dry (which was probably why I didn’t bother to ask in the first place). Everything else was… Decent, I should say, with mediocre-tasting prawns, which were also a little too hard, and little clams and mussels. The hero was that sultry broth which managed to sufficiently flavour all the components. Thick and saturated, yum.

baked pear tart on puff pastry with salted caramel ice cream

In other words, the best part of the set lunch.

In other words, the best salted caramel ice cream I have ever tasted, beating the one at Wimbly Lu and Habitat Coffee, which I love but cower in the face of this divine beauty. It melted like a withering caramel crystal on top of a crusty disc of flaky puff pastry, lovingly studded with delicate slivers of sweet pear, all thick and almost reluctant to give in to the pressure of my fork. A dream. The sort of dish which, even right now as I type with shaky fingers due to the single memory of its perfection, makes me weak at the knees. The sort of dish which you delight in eating even after all the ice cream has melted and has deflated and saturated the pastry, because you are a child once again revelling in the silly joy that is soggy, sweet stodge.

His clever choice. Can you see the fine smatterings of vanilla bean evenly dispersed throughout its creamy, provocative belly? The top crackled, the brûlée a sharp crowning of a most luxurious wobble!

I can’t, won’t, shan’t ever forget this lunch. One of the best set meals I have ever had, quality surpassing expectations, with only a few mishaps here and there. All for only $30++ (I hate how they charge $8 for the additional onions though– that’s just a necessity and there’s no denying it).

I usually don’t say this, but I’m highly inclined to come again.

Rating: 4.8/5.0

Bistro du Vin

1 Scotts Road, #02-12, Shaw Centre / 56 Zion Rd

Singapore 228208 / 247781

Posted on June 17, 2014February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 1

Cinnamon sour cream coffee cake

I delight in this cake for two reasons.

Firstly, it’s got this ridiculous cinnamon sugar crumble magic on top, and it was the hardest thing (well, not as hard as if I were to make brownies), to stop picking at the stuff. Secondly, the flavour eagerly showcases the use of sour cream, which I love, so it’s not too mild and airy-fairy like a typical sponge cake. It’s a slightly denser cake than normal, and goes wonderfully with even more sour cream or vanilla ice cream, perhaps topped with a dash of cinnamon and in this case, a good drizzle of manuka honey.

I adapted this recipe from Entertaining with Beth which can be found here. Made quite a few alterations because my first experiment with it yielded too dense a final result, the crumb not as tender as I hoped for. Cinnamon is the vice of Man. The earthy sweetness rounds off many other traditional flavour notes. I added a little brown sugar to the cake mix because the slight tinge of molasses goes well with the cinnamon filling in between the two layers, and changed the cinnamon filling and crumb topping recipe completely because the melted butter used in the original recipe just didn’t work as a nice streusel topping in this temple-banging, sun-raging weather. Curse this humidity.

What I like best is how you don’t have to make two separate layers before getting down to some sandwich business- what’s one to do with just one 9-inch pan? We make easy for the world. Saving on some dishwashing liquid too, actually. Moving on.

Cinnamon Sour Cream Coffee Cake

For the cake:

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

115g salted butter at room temperature (unsalted is fine, just add more salt later)

2 room temperature eggs

half cup white sugar, half cup light brown sugar

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 1/2 teaspoons salt

1 1/2 cups sour cream (you may substitute this with Greek yoghurt, not anything low-fat or plain)

1 1/2 tablespoons vanilla extract

For the cinnamon filling and crumb topping:

1/3 cup packed dark brown sugar (this has a high molasses content and will thus yield a more earthy, sultry flavour, but light will work fine. You might have to add an extra tablespoon or so, though)

1/2 cup plain flour

3 teaspoons ground cinnamon (yum)

1/2 teaspoon fine salt

57g (4 tablespoons) cold, unsalted butter, cut into one-inch pieces. Stick this in the fridge right before use.

optional– chopped pecans/walnuts/almonds

You ready? I am. So. Dead. Easy.

Firstly, get all the dry stuff together. Then preheat your oven to 176 degrees C, or 350 degrees F, with the rack in the middle.

In a big bowl, cream together, either using an electric mix or your good old biceps and a sturdy whisk, the butter, two sugars and vanilla extract. Crack in the eggs one by one, whisking after each addition.

In another smaller bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Fold the sour cream into your sugar-butter mixture (I almost said complex) halfway, then add the flour mixture. I switched to using a wooden spoon at this point. The resulting batter should be sticky, smooth pale yellow, with a thick dropping consistency. If it’s too thick, add 1-2 tablespoons whole milk, but careful as this might alter the final taste of your cake. Whatever you do, don’t overmix!

How easy was that? Grab and throw. Done and dusted.

Now for the lovely crumble. Mix together the flour, sugar and cinnamon, then get in there with your hands and rub in the cold butter. Slightly larger-than-normal clumps are ok. If you wish, add more or less cinnamon, and play around with chopped nuts. If you do so, chop them up finely so as to keep the traditional texture of a streusel.

Spray a 9-inch cheesecake pan with a removable bottom tin with cooking spray. Don’t overdo it or else you’ll risk making the bottom unnecessarily greasy. Turn out half the batter into the tin, then sprinkle half the cinnamon streusel on top. Turn out the remaining batter and sprinkle on the rest.

Bake the mixture in your preheated oven for 55 minutes, after which if you insert a wooden skewer it should emerge clean, with a few dry crumbs sticking to it. Remove the bottom tin and place on cake stand, and if you want to be all fancy, sprinkle on some icing sugar. Don’t be afraid of excess and lather on the sour cream and honey on a warm slice.

Posted on June 11, 2014February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 1

Carvers and Co.

The look on my face when I was invited to my very first media tasting. Introducing the new meat-lovers go-to hideout, Carvers and Co at East Coast Road. These guys serve coffee at 10am and start brunch service 11am, all the way till 2 30pm. I’ve been meaning (you notice a trend here with all my blog posts now) to visit, specifically for their brunch special of peanut butter and walnut french toast. I’ve seen the pictures. I’ve wiped off the drool. It was all a little too much. So when Sarah, who also opened One Man Coffee at Upper Thomson, invited me that Monday night, you can just imagine my delight. Took the bus all the way to the East Coast, without a care in the world. Without a single care, caressing my coffee-deprived little belly. One of the first things I tried was their iced pour-over, using Brazil beans, served by an all-knowing, clearly coffee-crazed barista. The taste was clean albeit a little weak for my own preference. A refreshing start to this grand experience.

peanut butter and banana french toast, with toasted walnuts and maple syrup– $11.90 — peanut butter and banana french toast, with toasted walnuts and maple syrup

And if you wanna go all-American, pile-on-the-brunch-toppings style, you can add bacon for an extra 3 bucks. This was absolutely, disgustingly, heavenly. I was once again transported to One Man with their fabulous french toast formula, though this time there’s the added pizzaz of gooey peanut butter and warmed banana, a beautiful mess in the middle. They could even try using natural peanut butter, in all its grainy, home-ground and creamy glory, to further enhance the flavours here. The sides are ridiculously crisp, so much so that the crumbs feel like airy polka dots on your tongue. The toasted walnuts were the best touch, offering a earthy roundness to the otherwise purely chimerical and traditional peanut butter and banana pairing. What makes this french toast different is how the brioche is light, soft and crusty, and not overly weighed down by eggy batter, overly-drenched in naked batter. It’s like the delicate rose of all french toasts. Lady of the lambs. Almost untouchable, but boy was I glad to cut into this.

truffled egg-in-the-hole toast, with whipped grana panado and candied bacon

Firstly, those paprika bacon chips go wonderfully with a sharp, creamy beer. The man offered a gorgeous pairing of Palm beer, which made the aftertaste of sweet bakkwa-esque bacon chips linger for longer. The paprika could have been a little sharper to give a little more kick, but overall they’re rather divine, and nicely crisp on the outside.

Secondly, please take a step back to admire that bacon jam, melted cheese and truffled yolk as one golden (literally) entirety. Mostly the bacon jam though, or the single element which brought all traditional eggy behaviour of a brunch dish on its feet. It was much stickier and retained better consistency as a ‘jam’ than what I remembered the last time I tried it at One Man, and one can smear the gooey delight all over the crust of the outer edges, lending both sweet and savoury flavour to the mild, light brioche, plain melted grana panado and truffle oil. Oh, truffle. This really is taking it to the next level. One of the best bits? Sliding your knife into that fried piece of bread, or the ‘hole’, if you will. Dig into that crisp shell of crumby goodness. King of side appeal.

The mash was edible velvet, and offered the right savoury kick without feeling too heavy or gluggy on the palate. The candied carrots could have been marinated in a little less syrup to retain more of its bite. I’m honestly quite the sucker for any candied vegetable.

truffle fries with garlic mayo and fried anchovies

As I may or may not have said before, I’m not actually the biggest fries person, but the fried anchovies here won me over. The fries were fresh, crisp and warm, just out of the fryer, its edges mellowed by the heavy wallop of garlic mayonnaise on top. You get a bit of everything on one fry, and everything was, frankly, a nice starchy and fatty mess. Reminds me of English pubs, and that in itself says a lot.

wagyu beef with caramelised onions and garlic confit

They also serve all sorts of meats, such as this wagyu with caramelised onions, which is absolutely to die for. The meat was nothing short of perfectly medium-rare and tender, yielding a rustic flavour brought out by the garlic confit and delightful mound of sweet, sticky caramelised onions. Just… Yes please. The woody meat paired excellently with the softened onions. Look at the wobbly red belly and bright sear on the outside. Communal. Big families. Full stomachs and passing of plates. This is what Carvers is all about. They also offer other brunch and breakfast specials, as well as meat platters, desserts and the whole range of coffee varieties. Their machine is enough to stump ya. It may be a little out of the way, but make an effort for just one trip. It’ll all be worth it, I promise. Once again, a special thank you to Sarah for inviting me, and I’m definitely bringing the folks over one day to try everything. I’ve got my eye on that vegetarian dish of pumpkin, eggplant and paneer on polenta!

Rating: 4.7/5

Carvers and Co.

43 East Coast Road

6348 0448

Posted on June 6, 2014February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 2

Ronin

Ronin. By the same people of The Plain, which I adore wholeheartedly and should definitely put up a review for, and The Bravery. These guys love to show off the well-done industrial chic thing. And I appreciate their efforts. I really do.

I heard a little too much of this place, situated right on Hong Kong Street. I had no idea this place even existed. Is there Hong Kong in Singapore? Will I find it here? That was probably expecting a little too much. In my previous review of The Bravery Café, I was intrigued by the staunch industrial chic feel, and this feeling was brought to a maximum at Ronin. Once I stepped inside, I knew I had found something quite special. No, it’s not the sort of place where you can take well-lit photos and upload them all shamelessly. It’s dim, warmly lit, and on that particularly rainy day whereby my socks were soaked through and through (ugh), it was hard to see past the first half of the café. To be frank, all the photos I saw of the place on Instagram almost put me off visiting– I thought it all too surreptitious, dim and perhaps a tad too pretentious. But knowing me… I’d do anything to find a good cup of coffee.

The Genovese blends they use will always have me coming back for more. And now I only wished I also ordered their special ‘Wicked Mocha’, which apparently comes with fudge on the bottom and a lively sprig of mint. I’m determined to return just to try it. My cappuccino was thick and frothy; a tad better than the one I had at the Bravery. One cannot expect consistency all the time, but this really impressed me and my coffee buds were set alight.

French toast with cooked apple, candied bacon, hazelnut-flavoured butter and maple syrup–$14 Scrambled eggs with sourdough, rye, bacon and portobello mushroom– $9+$3+$3 — **French toast with cooked apple, candied bacon, hazelnut-flavoured butter and maple syrup–$14**
**Scrambled eggs with sourdough, rye, bacon and portobello mushroom– $9+$3+$3**

The french toast, the french toast. I asked for the maple syrup on the side, because I hate having my french toast drowned at first go. However, the server conveniently forgot and the toast was soaking in a too-generous pool of the stuff. Secondly, on behalf of both Liz’s and my later pleasure, I requested for an add-on of portobello, because I absolutely love a hulking mass of beefy, juicy portobello, and once again she forgot. Ah, one, two marks off. They were simple enough requests. This wasn’t off to a very good start. What I found slightly odd was how when my dish came, each slice seemed to have a ridge right along the edges, so that each could be split into half on the horizontal plane once again. My my, it was massive. The hazelnut-flavoured butter was a nice touch, though I feel they might as well have served it with real hazelnut butter, or almond butter, because now that I think of it, that would have paired quite wonderfully with the soaked brioche. The toast itself was lovely and squidgy on the inside, but didn’t undergo as much saturation of eggy batter as I would have liked. It was all a little too dense and just slightly above mediocre-good. I found myself reminiscing the time when I was sitting alone, having french toast at Stateland Café, which I thought had the most fluffy and bombastic interior. This was good french toast, but it failed to deliver the same outrageously fluffy and light consistency on the inside. The fat-marbled candied bacon and cooked apple were marvellous though, but somehow the maple syrup felt a little thick on the palate. More like a Grade A, I should hazard a guess.

The most impressive item, I must, must say, was the scrambled eggs. Because honest to God, I wasn’t expecting such a creamy, beautifully curdled, pale yellow mass such as this one. Each bite was wonderfully well-seasoned, and paired with the nicely toasted sourdough and rye, yielded a heavenly combination of hearty flavour. The portobello mushroom (which, yes, came later) was beautifully roasted and as juicy as a ripe tomato, bursting with beefy flavour on the inside. Best dish that morning.

I shall return for more, that is, if they actually remember specific orders next time round. This place is excellent if you’re looking to while away your time in a cosy and dimly-lit place, with a book in hand and creamy broth in the other. Come here for the heartiest of brunches, for sharing, for escape.

Rating: 4.5/5

Ronin

17 Hongkong Street

Tuesday – Sunday 8am-8pm

Posted on June 1, 2014February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 0

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recipes, catering, creativity

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Author: alexcrumb

15-minute French Toast Casserole

Bistro du Vin (feat. the best salted caramel dessert)

Cinnamon sour cream coffee cake

Carvers and Co.

Ronin