Whole ricotta pancakes (and more babbling)

I have the worst love-hate relationship with social media.

One question: If you’re tweeting about some fabulous party you’re at, are you really having fun there? I don’t know about you, but I imagine someone standing in the corner, desperately trying to capture every moment of the fab food and lights and music, totally losing the purpose of socialising in the process. Pick at the food, dance a little, then back to the phone. Phone phone phone. Tumblr, Facebook, Twitter and Instagram are everyone’s best friends. Let me clarify: no, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. I’m guilty of it, and so are many people in this day and age. In fact, I’m pretty sure I can go as far as to say that social media defines the 21st century. That, and obesity. Social media helps me stay in contact with my closest friends and is the perfect means to capture totally retarded moments on the spur. It’s funny, casual, fun, and I love it.

That being said, maybe ignorance is truly bliss? The light that illuminates a certain special occasion, a certain personal, intangible factor, is lost in the process of uploading everything real-time to the infinite cloud of technology. It’s so sad to visit restaurants and see parents barely looking up to talk to their children. The kids fiddle with their bolognese, look around, fold the corners of the posh napkins. Parents. Noses to phone, eyes to screens.. hmm, maybe look up to swallow that tiny starter, but soon after it’s always back to the frantic typing, the ‘This is work, dear’, the hair twirling and silent airs. Or when I see friends together and neither of them actually… Talk. I remember having my grandparents take my sister and I out when we were younger than the malleable age of 12, and oh goodness, the stuff we talked about! No screen distractions or clouding of words. Just good food, great conversation, and buckets of love and laughter. I, for one, am sometimes guilty of being that annoying phone addict (though I only recently got Snapchat and am still slightly averse to the idea of Twitter). I can’t not take a picture of a great dish when I’m out. However, I recently read an article on the dangers of social media and found it highly intriguing. Two people attempted to totally rid themselves of any form of social media for at least a week, and the result was basically that they reached a new state of being, almost approaching that of enlightenment, having sought and found freedom from the perils of pleasing others with their shiny self profiles. It’s true, isn’t it? Who would post a picture of daily family fights, of aspects of pain or severe depression? Social media really doesn’t reveal one’s true self, nor does it guarantee you a solid network of friends you can always reach out to. I have my close friends, here and (one) overseas, and love how all these platforms help me stay in touch. I realised this fact a while ago, but I felt the point was expertly reinforced in the said article, illuminating how people today define and appreciate relationships.

I’ll start off with Instagram. I joined the platform in 2012, as one of my nascent endeavours to be part of the more ‘normal’ scene, where I could assimilate into the teen crowd and actually be more engaged with my other tech-savvy friends. Instagram really was one of my first few steps; heck, I only got Facebook in 8th Grade. My love for food and baking grew, displayed for the world to see on this one platform. I love how Instagram served to reinforce this love and passion. I met so many wonderful people and reconnected with old buds. How perfect, how engaging… and yet, incredibly dangerous. Most people know me as the amateur food blogger with a few thousand followers on my account (I admit it’s nothing impressive). It started off as nothing, then I started to post what I baked or what I had for breakfast (stereotypical Asian foodie, I apologise). As I gained more followers, I felt the need to impress, the need to enhance my own streak of perfectionism. Is that so bad? In most cases, it’s not. Nothing’s wrong with wanting to improve yourself in a specific field, being spurred along by supportive friends. But after years of being acquainted with my alter ego alexcrumb, I now fully acknowledge the fact that all the likes and comments in the world will never, ever, be able to satisfy any sort of emptiness, or justify a certain passion for something. It really, really doesn’t. Social media is much too glittery and superficial for that. I developed a few of my own posting rules, and hope they continue to keep me on the less obsessive side of things. When I whip something up, I take a few pictures. Then, I put my phone down. Ha, it’s rather weird typing this out; feels like I’m listing rules when really it’s just part of normal routine now. Anyways, voila! That is how my food stays hot. Great perks. I just put the iPhone down and eat or continue a meal I’m having out. Doing this makes me feel so much better about living in general. Trying to attain the highest degree of aesthetic sense is one thing, living in the present is another. Down, phone, down. It’s only later on in the morning or day that I’ll put it through my favourite filter, then post it with some appropriate (or utterly irrelevant) caption. It’s all good fun, but that’s just about it. What’s the point in letting Instagram eat into the rest of my day, perusing, scrutinising other people’s profiles, when I can work, read or talk to people? Instagram is a public, picturesque diary, and I love the occasional snoop, but life would not be half as purposeful or meaningful without the chance to unplug and tune in to your thoughts. In my case, it’s writing a diary, but for some others, it could be drawing, painting or running. Nowadays when I’m out, I won’t necessarily snap everything I eat, or I’ll just take a sneaky few shots, because I know how annoying it must be for the chef to poach eggs and have someone stand like an utter idiot for half an hour just to get the perfect bird’s eye view of all the food on the table. Been there, done that. Too many photos and standing like a rigid scarecrow= cold eggs with hard middles. Who wants that? I’m learning, I’m learning.

So. Back to the recipe I want to share. I must, oh goodness I must. A bit non-sequitur, I know. Whole ricotta pancakes? So like… ricotta cakes? Almost, my friend. Pretty darn close. I came across this wonderful pancake variant on one of my favourite Instagram accounts @ingwervanille, and couldn’t believe the results I yielded whilst experimenting with one short recipe just a few days ago… love how it turned out so well. It is only very slightly adapted, with less flour and the addition of greek yoghurt. If anything represents ‘light as air’, except perhaps a gorgeous cheese soufflé, then this is it. Punctured throughout with gaping holes of air. Light, slightly sweet and tangy at the same time. Ricotta is very mild, but the hot pan, butter and addition of vanilla brought the existent flavour to life. They do take a little longer to cook than regular pancakes because the cheese has to cook through together with the egg, and there’s hardly any flour at all, but it’s worth it. They will turn out incredibly light, golden, with that pretty patched pattern on both (well at least on one) sides. Sometimes, heaven’s on your side.

Whole Ricotta Pancakes (for 2-3)

250g whole milk ricotta (usually one normal tub from the supermarket)

one teaspoon vanilla extract

one tablespoon greek yoghurt (optional, but helps the flavour)

one egg

2.5 tablespoons all-purpose flour

one teaspoon sugar

pinch of salt

Preferable toppings: greek yoghurt, fruit and honey/ butter and maple syrup/ squeeze of lemon, honey and frozen fruit/ nut butter and maple syrup/ the world is your oyster

Preheat your pan on medium heat. Mix all ingredients together, with the exception of the flour, in a medium bowl. This recipe can actually just be done with one bowl and a normal dinner spoon. Using a tablespoon, fold the flour in. If your batter looks too wet to work with, add another half tablespoon of flour. 2.5 tablespoons worked just fine for me, but adjust according to what you see. The batter should be pale and wet, with expected clumps of ricotta. It’s all good.

Butter your pan. Using the same spoon, dollop clumps of batter onto the pan. Make mini coins or large round ones. Whatever you fancy. Wait for bubbles to appear around the sides and in the middle. Once bubbles are visible in the middle, wait a little while longer, for at this point they are still pretty fragile. After around 4-5 minutes, check the underside. Yours might take a little shorter, so just check and see. Once you are able to slide your spatula under the whole underside of a pancake, do a quick flip and cook the other side. The other side takes much shorter to cook, around 1-2 minutes. Layer the pancakes on a kitchen towel to absorb excess grease or moisture, or just serve immediately on plates.

So good.

Posted on January 12, 2015February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 3

Frozen berry pudding (two options)

I never was one of those girls who have greek yoghurt and fruit (maybe honey, oh my!) for breakfast. Nah. I always needed something carby, or at least warm. The typical day starts with warm oats and tea. Hot on hot on hot… Yes, in this bloody hot weather. But (there’s always a but). I’ve recently experienced a health kick, and decided to experiment a little with all the frozen berry smoothies I’ve been seeing all over the internet. It’s always ‘frozen this’ and ‘frozen that’. The trend has seriously taken the world by storm, but I tweaked it just a little so one need not have to blend everything the morning of. Tired? Got work? Then try this. You may not be the greek yoghurt girl with logos strapped across her bottom, but nevertheless it’s worth a go.

It’s filling, nourishing, chock-full of antioxidants and vitamins. Creamy yet sharp, pseudo-lush yet clearly one of the most healthy things you can have in the morning. This would traditionally be called a smoothie/slushy/ice-cream variant, but I label it a pudding because that’s the word that jumped at me the moment I dug my spoon in the bowl the next morning. Thick, not quite the full-on pudding consistency, but still more pudding-like to me than anything. The chia seeds voluminised the entire body of fruit, so it almost seemed aerated. There are 2 options for this recipe: blend it all in the morning, or blend most the night before, mix in the chia and let sit in the fridge overnight. The second yields a more liquidy, pudding-like result, whilst the former is like ice cream’s sister. Outrageous.

Frozen berry pudding (for 1)

one cup frozen mixed berries

half frozen banana (you can pop in the chopped up banana in the freezer earlier in the day)

40ml milk of choice (I used my mum’s ridiculously thick and creamy almond milk)

pinch of salt

one teaspoon maca/acai/vanilla/cacao powder (optional)

one tablespoon chia seeds

Toppings: nut butters, sliced banana, honey, whatever your heart desires

Option 1: Blend everything except the toppings in a blender (I used a Vitamix) and serve yourself some morning ice-cream!

Option 2: Blend the first 5 ingredients in a blender, then dish out into a bowl. Mix the chia seeds throughly into the thick and cold mixture. The next morning, take the mix out of your fridge and top with whatever you like.

Posted on January 7, 2015February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 0

Eggless French Toast

Well here’s to the longest hiatus ever, everyone! I have finally emerged from underneath the suffocating mounds of work. Free from an aching heart, mind and soul. It’s ridiculously liberating, and what better way to celebrate than a long-awaited post? It feels weird to have the time to do things like this, but I guess I better get used to it. I’ll be keeping more updated on comments, questions and posts. There’s just no excuse this time. This one’s a short recipe, nothing grandiloquent. But. This french toast is special to me because I’ve been using it quite frequently for the past 3 years or so, after modifying it myself from various sources. I only recently realised that it’s never been properly shared with anyone. It’s basically a vegan french toast recipe, with my own twist on a basic formula of mashed banana and milk. The quirk? The kind twang of yoghurt and a burst of cinnamon. Simple, fresh, wholesome. Its just french toast, but the glorious main star of the batter, mashed banana, makes for the most wonderful naturally sweet exterior. It yields a caramelised banana crust, almost with a charred taste and texture, depending on how ‘done’ you want the final result to be. Who am I kidding, it’s just french toast. But I must talk about it, before I forget tomorrow, and probably the day after. My french toast. The toppings are totally subjective. In the picture above, I used maple syrup, fruit and my mum’s homemade pistachio butter, which goes superbly with most everything you can think of. Breakfast foods, at that. Butter and maple syrup or honey would work a peach. Keep in mind that you don’t need too much sweetener thanks to the natural sweetness of the bananas. A caramelised golden banana coat to keep the inside warm and fluffy. The same goes for having it straight-up plain. Or why not make it a glorious peanut butter and jelly-stuffed sandwich. Maybe some chocolate spread and melted marshmallows. I might be taking it a bit too far here. Just, you know, some ideas. And if you have some ice cream…

Eggless French Toast For One

Preheat your pan on medium-high heat. Take two slices (or three, if you wish) of soft bread of your choice, such as buttery brioche or, unsalted butter from the fridge to let it warm up a little. Take half a banana (ripe if you’re lucky) and mash it up with a fork. Add a good splash of whatever milk (quarter cup, or 59ml) you want and mix that in well. My favourite is my mum’s gorgeous homemade almond milk– all thick, creamy and rich. Whole milk will work beautifully as well. The texture should be thick, much thicker than your typical liquidy french toast batter, and little chunks of banana are fine. Add a tablespoon of yoghurt, a squeeze of honey or any sweetener you desire, and a dash of cinnamon. Mix mix mix. Just one fork, a shallow dish and a handful of ingredients. No mess, no fuss. Take a good knob of butter (around a tablespoon) and let that sizzle on the pan. Drench both sides your slices, one by one, in the thick mixture. A little excess is fine– it actually makes for a better crust. Place slices on the preheated, buttered griddle or pan and let cook for around 2-3 minutes on each side. Have a quick peek underneath if you’re not sure, because every pan and fire is different. It should be golden, with little smears and streaks of brown, and incredibly fragrant. Once one side is done, flip using a spatula. It should take around half a minute less to cook this side. For more people, simply multiply the proportions of each ingredient appropriately.

Posted on November 30, 2014February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 3

Rustic Grape Tart

It feels as if I’m caught in a storm right now, papers flying everywhere, head quite the mess. I told myself I’d buckle down 110% (those same words!) today, and yet, I feel a strong sense of guilt as I look over all my past recipe posts, the embodiment of one of my main passions in life. It’s funny because I actually read an excellent article on procrastination in the papers today; and yet, I don’t see this as a form of such a term, but more so a physical and mental extension of what I love wholeheartedly. It’s small things like the juxtaposition of fruit and custard cream which to be are akin to that of life and love, or books and work, or friends and family.

This grape tart, as you can see above, is not perfect. The shell has shrunk, the grapes aren’t all luscious and plump, but it is through these imperfections that I am willing to share what I’ve learnt to bolster your own attempt in the kitchen. The shrunken shell is my fault really, because I failed to spread the baking beans evenly during the blind baking process. That, together with the fact that I sort of wanted the whole rustic appeal of pseudo-slipshod work. Hey, it’s a tart!

The pastry is abominably crisp, the sort which shatters and melts in your mouth real quick. And I have only recently discovered just how darn easy pastry cream is to make, and I used a simple recipe which yields a smooth and decadent texture and flavour. I attempted to keep cooking the cream until it was thick, and thus hold itself better in the fridge, or when cut through with a knife during serving. If possible, use fresh, thick grapes, which I unfortunately didn’t have on hand at that point in time (hence the tiny little blobs you see pictured!) Since I was trying out my new fluted rectangular tart tin, I was forced to leave out a significant amount of crust, but it would also be perfect in a round 9-inch pie tin.

Rustic Grape Tart

Ingredients

For shortcrust pastry:

157g all-purpose flour

125g cold, unsalted butter, cut into cubes

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon sugar

2-3 tablespoons water

For pastry cream:

355ml whole milk (around 1.5 U.S. cups)

2 egg yolks

68g white castor sugar

1 tablespoon cornstarch

1/2 tablespoon all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

optional: zest of half a lemon and a splash or brandy/cognac

For the topping:

around 100g of grapes, cut in half (or you can cut as you fill the top, after pouring in the pastry cream)

2-3 tablespoons grape/apricot jam, warmed in the microwave for a minute or so

Make the pastry. It’s extremely versatile and can be used for things like quiches and other sweet or savoury tarts as well. My mum uses it all the time for her savoury wild mushroom and blue cheese quiche. Anyways. Freeze the cubed butter for at least a half hour. If you’re using a food processor, combine flour, salt and sugar, and pulse to mix. Add the butter and pulse around 6-8 times until the mixture resembles a course meal with pea-sized pieces of butter. Add the iced water, 1 tablespoon at a time, pulsing until the mixture just begins to clump together. The dough should hold together when pinched lightly. If you’re just using your good old hands and a bowl, rub the cold butter into the flour mix, rubbing across the knuckles, and quickly, so the heat doesn’t melt the butter at a faster rate. Continue until you get the aforementioned result. Remove dough from machine/bowl and place on a clean work surface. Shape into a disk and wrap with cling film. Refrigerate for at least an hour, and up to 2 days (so you can make this way ahead of time, hoorah).

When ready to use, remove the disc and leave on the counter for around 10 minutes, just to soften a little. Roll out on a lightly floured surface with a rolling pin, according to the size of the tart tin you are using. For my own rectangular one, I rolled it out to around 9×11 inches, around 1/8-inches thick, so there could be sufficient dough hanging over the edges. Press the dough into your tin (no need to grease) and press down so it reaches all the corners and sides. Trim the edge, leaving about 1/2 an inch excess from the edges. Put the crust in the fridge for around 10 minutes and preheat the oven to 177C (350F). Line the chilled crust with parchment/wax paper and fill with pie weights. Bake for 20 minutes in the oven. Remove to cool for a few minutes. Remove the weights, poke the bottom with little holes and return to oven for another 10 minutes. Cool completely before adding any filling.

During the baking time, make the custard. In other words, the most fun part! In a saucepan, medium or large, over medium heat, warm the whole milk until it comes to a simmer. Whilst waiting for that, whisk the eggs, sugar, cornstarch, optional alcohol and lemon zest, flour and vanilla in a bowl. Whisk a little of the hot milk into the egg mixture, and then slowly, very slowly, whisk the slightly tempered egg mixture into the rest of the milk, constantly stirring. Continue to stir for around 3-5 minutes, until the mixture thickens and you have what rightly resembled a luscious, thick custard. It will be a fine, pale yellow, which leaves a slightly slimy trace when you sneak a lick off the back of your wooden spoon. Remove from the heat and let it cool for around half an hour.

Once cool, spread the custard onto the pie shell. Cut up your grapes and assemble them, cut-side down, onto the cream. It will take a while, yes, but it’s absolutely worth it in the end. Place your gorgeous little tart in the fridge, and cover with plastic wrap. Just before serving, warm some jam in a saucepan over light heat or in the microwave for a few minutes. Brush over little butts of grapes, remove from the tin and prepare yourself for a light and slightly unorthodox dessert.

Who doesn’t love grapes.

Posted on October 4, 2014February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 2

Frozen strawberry banana slushy

I was trying to think of something to post, just as I was whizzing up this baby you see in the picture above. Hence, it felt rather apropos to blow away the dust on my wordpress homepage with this recipe. A smoothie, really? I daren’t label it a recipe. It’s silly to think of it as a methodical process, accessorised with a baker’s meticulousness and precision, when in reality I half-heartedly thrust a few ingredients into the magical bullet robot that is the Vitamix. Whizz-bam-shoot– done. In literally a few seconds. I apologise for being dreadfully inconsistent, and I know some people have requested me to put up something new. I’ve been so caught up with work and university applications recently, it almost feels as if I need a good amount of time to get my head together and sort my life out. This whole life thing can get pretty messy, don’t you think? I wanted to do a short write-up for the sole sake of showing just how darn easy a smoothie is. Especially this one, because it’s so easy to modify and tweak.

Before I list the paltry amount of ingredients (and there really is nothing more to it), I want to address one of the questions I got on my ask.fm account. A lovely someone wanted to know if and how I overcame any specific personal problem, so I guess I’ll share it here. When I was in 9th grade, I was involved in a spate of cyberbullying. I was the bullied (surprise surprise). It all started when a couple of nasty girls decided it would be fun to call me bad things. At the time, I had a Formspring account (goodness, doesn’t that word sound ancient?), and they used this platform to send anonymous questions, in which they called me all sorts of things, including a word which starts with an ‘s’ and basically means excessively promiscuous. Of course, I didn’t do anything of the sort. I think it stemmed from the fact that I happened to like someone who the bully fancied first. It was all very childish and unnecessary. And yet, it pulled me into one of the darkest phases of my life. I loved books and science and yes, I liked boys, but not to that extent. So to hear all this, from some faceless ‘stranger’, perturbed me. My self-esteem went right down the drain. I clearly remember looking in the mirror in the mornings and giving a start to my swollen eyes. Even if I woke up feeling alright, those eyes gave way to all the horrid thoughts of the day before, clouding my nights with salty waterfalls. School was an unbearable thought.

Little did I know that this person, or the supposed leader of this small group, was someone I considered one of my very good friends. Someone I shared secrets and corny jokes with. Someone I sat next to the year before in English class. One day I couldn’t take the online comments any longer, and told my mum. Initially, I desperately didn’t want to get her involved, because I refused to make a mountain out of a molehill. But the pain ate at my gut for days on end. Rumours about me spread in school. All these false, ear-bending whispers. I didn’t know who to trust, who I could talk to. I couldn’t concentrate on anything else properly. Thank goodness I confided in her, for it felt like the biggest load was lifted right off my shoulders. She was shocked, but sympathetic. ‘God, of course not!’ I shrieked, when she told me she was making plans to report it to the school councillor. I would be known as the coward without the confidence to face the enemy. But how could I, given I had no clue who it was? Ah, my mother. I’m truly grateful for her existence; she really did make me feel at least thrice as better. Her support was solid, unwavering. It always has been. Anyways, as I was about to report the situation to an ‘adult figure’, one of the bullies confessed to me in school. Just one. Although I was hurt, I was grateful she approached me, for at least then I didn’t have to walk around school suspecting the motives of every single person I walked past.

Ultimately, what helped me recover from that phase was confidence. Confidence to just take one step forward, and stop caring so much about what other people thought of me. The melodrama made me value who my close friends really were, and I’m grateful for all the new ones I’ve made in recent years. The bullies made my life a living nightmare for a while, especially at that age when social circles pretty much determined my degree of self-worth. But that’s exactly it– for a while. The Bard says that ‘time and the hour runs through the roughest day’. You can’t trust everyone, but you can trust yourself to let your confidence do the talking. It was simply no use to let myself be bogged down by mere comments, or let the quality of my life suffer. Be confident. Be independent. Smoothies help too, you know.

Frozen strawberry banana slushy (serves 1)

One cup of frozen strawberries

One frozen, ripe banana

half cup milk of choice (I used almond here)

2 tablespoons greek yoghurt

good squeeze of thick honey or maple syrup, if you’re feeling particularly decadent (the imprecision here is horrifying, but in the morning, with gunk-crusted eye corners and droopy lids, a ‘good squeeze’ is indeed subjective…)

Optional: a few cubes of pineapple/ handful of spinach/ a splash of vanilla extract

To freeze the fruit, chop your bananas into rough coins and lay them in a single layer on a tray, before putting it in the freezer. The single layer makes it easier to remove when you take it out of the freezer, though you have to wait a couple of minutes or so. You could just put them in a bowl, but it’ll take a tad longer to thaw. It’s like a nightly ritual for me. I should really start doing normal teenage things….

In the morning, or whenever you feel like having something luscious, creamy and refreshing, throw all the ingredients into your Vitamix or blender, and… well, not much explanation is needed from this point, is there? Adjust the thickness to your liking, by adding more frozen fruit or more milk, to make it thicker or thinner respectively. Stick in a straw or opt instead for the frozen fruit-stache. That’s a fun one. I personally like it very thick and icy, so I can spoon it all with glee. Morning ice cream, anyone?

Posted on September 9, 2014February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 2

alexcrumb

recipes, catering, creativity