Tag: baking

Salted Caramel Apple Cheesecake

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Because I actually cannot believe this is a (mostly) improvised, pseudo-original recipe. Honestly, it’s pretty glorious. Ok fine, if that’s a little too much undeserved self-praise, I guess I’ll just say that darn, I’m one enlightened cake-maker. A mixing of some fine ingredients, a thrusting of good pink ladies on the top, a sudden decision to say…

YES, I really do think salted caramel will go nicely with that.

Off the whim, all too sudden. Yesterday was the due date for the IB’s Extended Essay, so I feel it very fitting to celebrate with this recipe. It was a short return to my childhood of tree-climbing and grazed knees, after which I’d come home to find a well-sized slice of cheesecake my mother or grandmother bought from some gourmet store, which I enjoyed anyway because… cheesecake. I never found the rich tang displeasing as a kid; it was one of the few sorts of cakes I didn’t mind having at birthday parties. The flimsy, airy stuff never fascinated me. I lusted after half-cloying goop. I admit that this batch actually could have used twice as much salt in the caramel topping to counter the lemony, apple-y sweetness of the cheesecake, so I’ll put the better amount in for your benefit.

And with that, let’s go.

 

Ingredients

For the base:

  • 1 cup flour
  • 1 egg yolk
  • 1/4 cup light brown sugar
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 cup (113g) softened, unsalted butter. Good butter, please.

For the filling and apple top:

  • 2 packages Philadelphia cream cheese, left to soften at room temperature (this would take at least a good half hour)
  • 1/2 cup white castor sugar
  • 1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice
  • 1/4 cup sour cream (or Greek yoghurt, which was what I used since I didn’t have sour cream on hand)
  • 1 1/2 tablespoons vanilla extract
  • 3 eggs

For apple topping:

  • 2 small pink lady apples, or any sort which you enjoy eating on its own. Grab a green one if that’s all you have; doesn’t change the final product a whole lot. It actually depends how much of a flamboyant apple character you want your cake to have– the more the merrier, though I find thin layers atop the filling work well to even out the caramelisation process during baking.
  • 1/3 cup white sugar
  • one teaspoon ground cinnamon

For the divine gift of God that is salted caramel (makes a medium batch so it may be used in the future):

  • 1 cup white sugar
  • 95g salted (!!) butter
  • 3 teaspoons fine salt
  • 1/2 cup heavy whipping cream (either single or double is fine)

 

Procedure

Before I start, I just want to say that I’ve recently become more inclined to writing method in prose, mostly due to how I had to do so for my extended essay, and I enjoy the more personal feel it establishes. But yes, cheesecake.

Start of by preheating your oven to 200 degrees C (400 degrees F), and grease a 9-inch round cake tin.Thinly slice your apples and toss them in a medium-sized bowl with the sugar and cinnamon. Set aside for now.

Make the base: With a wooden spoon, or if you’re 80% Neanderthal like me, your hands, mix the five ingredients together well in another medium bowl. Press into base of your cake tin and half an inch up the sides. Make sure the bottom is even. If you live in a supremely hot climate like I do, put the base in the fridge to prevent the butter from melting and causing the pressed-up sides to sink and go limp.

Make the filling: Using a whisk (not the electrical sort, just the single whisks), cream the cream cheese and sugar together till no more sugar lumps are present in mixture. Add in the eggs one by one and whisk well between each addition. Then, add in the fresh lemon juice, sour cream/greek yoghurt and vanilla. Use a wooden spoon to mix the last few ingredients in order to incorporate as little air as possible. I found this really helped with the final texture of the cheesecake.

Assemble and bake: Take tin out of fridge and pour filling on top. No pre-baking of crust, no nothing. Just pour and plop in the oven. Oh, after you scatter those moreish, cinnamon-y apples on top, of course. Please don’t forget that bit. As I said earlier, I find that thin layers arranged in rings starting from the edges serve to kick the look factor up 10 notches. Just so… Pretty. I could’ve been neater, but I was too excited embarking on this exciting baking expedition. Literally an expedition too, because I was running around grabbing ingredients and whatnot. I need to organise myself. Anyways, once the layers are done (I just did one nice layer), put the cheesecake into the preheated oven and bake it for 15 minutes. Once 15 minutes is up, turn down the temperature to 190 degrees C (375 degrees F) and bake for another 30-35 minutes. I took mine out after 33 minutes, because that’s the way I did it the first time I baked a cheesecake this method, and there were no cracks whatsoever. Works a dream.

Make the salted caramel (adapted from Sally’s Baking Addiction): Heat sugar in a medium saucepan over medium heat, stirring occasionally with wooden spoon. Continue to do so until all the sugar melts into a pool of dark, glossy amber liquid. Once this stage is reached, add the salted butter. It’s a pretty vigorous reaction, this one. Stir with spoon to help the melting process. Once all the butter has melted, slowly add in heavy whipping cream. This part is even more vigorous that the previous one; it will spit and rise as it starts to boil. Let the mixture boil like this for another minute before taking the pan off the heat. Let cool for another couple minutes before stirring in the salt. Store in an airtight container for future use, and reserve a half cup for later.

Once cheesecake is done in the oven, carefully take out. It should still be a little wobbly and tender in the middle. Leave to cool in the same pan on a cooling rack for 15 minutes. After 15 minutes, microwave half of the reserved caramel (it would have gone a little thicker and less liquidy) for a few seconds and liberally drizzle all over top of the cheesecake. Place the cake inside the fridge and leave for at least 4 hours or overnight. It’s good to make this kind of thing the day before. No sweat.

After at least 4 hours (or overnight), take cake out of fridge. Microwave the remainder of the reserved caramel and drizzle it over the top, however you like, however much you want. You’ll probably have some caramel left.

Bam. Double salted caramel whammy.

I’m thinking grape and crisp rice cheesecake next time, just because.

 

Posted on by alexcrumb 1

Brown Butter Baked Maple Bacon Doughnuts

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Guys. This is so easy.

I’ve thought about making doughnuts before. I have. But I have always been too lazy to  physically drag myself to buy a candy thermometer and pour inches of oil into a deep saucepan. That, my friends, is the painful extent to which I live my life. I really shouldn’t even be labelled a human. That’s too ambiguous a title, anyway. I came across this recipe on Shutterbean a while back, and just thought it absolutely genius. I love Shutterbean, and this recipe is particularly special because of the first two words in the title– yes, brown butter. That nutty joy sizzling away, that border between fine, white, original fat and trembling mess of hormonal goo. Browned butter is so divine, and god, the smell. That smell will lift you off your toes.

Back to the point.

They’re just great. And I mentioned easy, right.

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Forgive the slightly paltry amount of bacon on that doughnut. I was eager to just catch the light here. Don’t worry, I piled a little more on later on. Remember that the texture is different to a normal fried doughnut, but this was sufficiently aerated, so you get the nice, slightly chewy and moist effect once you bite into its body. Mini little splendours, these. This is why I got a doughnut pan that Sunday morning. This is why I was in such a good mood after recovering from that horrible, ghastly bout of food poisoning, when I couldn’t even look at a piece of chicken. I’m just happy doughnut pans exist, for they make my own existence much more meaningful. I should hope so, anyways. Life is but a walking shadow, a poor player…

 

Brown Butter Baked Maple Bacon Doughnuts

Ingredients (makes 6 mini doughnuts)

For the doughnuts:

  • 1 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon baking powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon baking soda (make sure this stuff is properly crumbled, or your mouth’ll taste of detergent later)
  • 3/4 teaspoon salt
  • 3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1/3 cup granulated sugar (give or take two tablespoons. If you like less sweet doughnuts, take away two. If you have an uncontrollable sweet tooth like me, then just leave it.)
  • 29g unsalted butter, for the lovely browning process
  • 1 egg
  • 1/2 cup buttermilk (you can make this by taking a half cup measurement, putting a half tablespoon of white vinegar inside, then filling up the rest of the half cup with good, whole milk. Please, no soy or almond milk!)
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

For the glaze and crumble:

  • 1 sifted cup confectioner’s sugar
  • 2 tablespoons maple syrup
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 2 tablespoons whole milk (I used up to a half tablespoon more, so add milk drop by drop and keep whisking. Don’t. Stop. Whisking. It should have the consistency of angsty, thick glucose ribbons when you lift the whisk.)
  • 4 strips bacon, cooked for around 8 minutes on medium heat on the pan, drained & crumbled to desired size

Steps

1. Place a rack in the middle of your oven and preheat oven to 177 degrees C (350 degrees F).  Lightly grease a doughnut pan with cooking spray and put aside.

2. In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and sugar. Set this aside for now too.

3. Brown the butter: In a small saucepan over medium-low heat, melt butter.  It will start to pop and crackle a bit. Wait for the water to evaporate; you will know when this happens once you get a distinctly nutty aroma, and the butter goes an almost-bronze tone. Don’t walk away from the stove because this part happens way too quickly. I failed the first time. I know. I’m human. Remove from heat immediately and put it aside for a while.

4. In a small bowl, whisk together egg, buttermilk (or whole milk and vinegar), vanilla extract and glorious browned butter (make sure the butter isn’t scalding hot, though).

5. Stir the wet into the dry mix. Do this until no weird bits of flour remain, but please, please do not overmix the batter!!

6. Transfer batter into a ziploc bag. Snip the tip with a pair of scissors (around 2cm across) and pipe batter into each cute little mold.

7. Place in the oven and bake for 8-9 minutes.  Mine took exactly 8, and anything longer would have dried them out. Remove from the oven and allow to cool.

8. Cook the bacon, as instructed above.

Now you can make the glaze. My favourite bit, if you ask me.

9. In a medium bowl, whisk (just a small whisk is fine) the confectioner’s sugar with maple syrup and vanilla extract. Add the milk in a thin stream, or drop by drop, to thin out the glaze. Add more or less according to how thick you want it, but ideally it should be thick and more on the opaque-side, especially if you live in cursed heat like me.

10. Dip one side of the doughnut into the glaze, and twist to make sure the entire top is evenly coated. When lifting, give it another twist and let the glaze pool and then drip off one side.

11. While glaze is still wet, add the bacon crumbles on top of each doughnut. Store in an air-tight container for the first day and refrigerate any left over.

I hope you make your own day, now.

Posted on by alexcrumb 2

One Man Coffee

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Where do I even begin.

I kind of wish to keep this place a secret. Is that ok? Ever since I first heard about it and saw some rather moreish pictures on Instagram, I was ready to make a short visit, a hasty pop-by, and now I find myself there at least once or twice a week after school. Yeah. Just because it’s become an absurd necessity to be part of that coffee situation when my head’s reduced to mud after the constant clashing of school happenings, and this place is like my quantum of solace, a place where I can simply sit down, enjoy great coffee and some bloody good pastry, collect my thoughts, and study. And a special address to Sarah, the lovely, bubbly, and if I say so myself, supremely talented barista who works here!

But you know, evidently, I love this place, and it does deserve some publicity. I always give out an inner squeal whenever I approach its humble sign, like a little elf beckoning me to come in, pay for something, anything.

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Pear Crumble Danish– $4.50
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Salted Caramel Danish– $4.50
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Piccolo–$5

These were the first things I ever got from this baby hole-in-the-wall. Before I ramble, I should just like to say that this is a completely honest review, and in all honesty, I should like for this to be less of a typical review, because it’s so much more than a flurry of descriptive words and images. It’s utterly won me over and I daresay a ‘review’ just won’t cut it.

The piccolo was a little more on the milky side, though the beans shone through beautifully nonetheless. I took home that gorgeous salted caramel danish, and hurriedly toasted it. Unsurprisingly, and I should’ve seen it coming, the ooey belly of the danish, that rich, dripping salty, caramelly goodness started seeping out like blood from someone’s side. Oops. But messy was good, and good it was. No, spectacular. It was a little limp, with the flakes and layers not yielding a good enough crust, but only because it was not as fresh as it probably was when first baked (they get their goods from local French bakery B.A.O.). The fluffy and genuine salty character of that caramel is laudable. That is exactly what salted caramel should taste like; not the half-assed salt you usually get.

The pear crumble danish is a beauty, and was magnificent after being toasted for a minute. The pastry in both danishes is lovely and buttery, complementing the filling of either salt or sweet. The pear was soft, almost like the chunks you might find in a fruit compote.Pale, tender, with a little give. A slightly more robust texture would be more befitting, but it did my soul good. The crumble topping crisped up nicely when toasted, and went nicely with that dusting of icing sugar (which, surprisingly, held together even after my half-hour rocky trudge home).

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Iced Mocha– $6.50

The glug of rich chocolate syrup. It hit my throat before the cool milk, and then everything else fell into place. Did I mention it’s worth the price. Pretty tall glass, if you ask me. I planned on getting it when I saw it at someone else’s table the first time I went and was struggling to contain the green-eyed monster. The syrup is drizzled all round the sides of the glass, and slowly starts to integrate with the frigid milk to form a refreshing chocolate drink. So it’s chocolate+milky caffeine, then an enhancement of those two separate flavours as they meld into one another. After this, I came to the ecstatic, enlightening conclusion that this is my new favourite café.

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Brioche french toast with cream, berry compote and candied walnuts– $10

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You ALL know. How much my love for french toast consumes all darned sense and sensibility on my part. I admit, I wrote a whole journal entry on how much I loved this. Guys, I’ve tried a LOT of french toast. And this is probably one of, if not the, best. I say it myself, right here, right now. All hail the glory of this one, thick slice of sweet brioche french toast. Dripping in sweet whipped cream, apple compote, sugar on sugar, and then you get the lightly burnt aroma of candied walnuts on top- toasted, petite, delightful little things. Ashy rainfall on this snowy bed of cream. My hands were shaking because every bite was just so exciting and mesmerising. It was hard to contain myself in public, ok. I wanted to shout the wonders of this small piece of toast, saturated, jaw-aching in the best possible way. The outside glistened with the gentle sear of a hot pan, the inside beckoned with its bouncy, foamy, eggy intensity, whilst being perfectly aerated at the same time. The butter caressed every crevice of the light-as-air brioche, enhancing the gorgeous craters locked on its surface.

The sweet cream and jam does get a tad overwhelming at times, so a few bites later the brioche goes from a light snowflake to a dense-bellied, cream-stuffed ball. I’m not complaining, though. I quite like it that way, though a slightly staler loaf or lesser cream would’ve sufficed. Those without my sweet tooth better take it easy. The amount of jam was perfect, thick and interspersed with large chunks of sweet apple. I could go on and on. Love of my life.

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Scone with butter (or cream, if you wish) and apple jam– $4.50
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Espresso– $3

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The scone is on the slightly denser side, but bore a good and heavy butter flavour, almost lightly salted, which made the additional butter (yeah, I can be a bit excessive) and the glorious apple jam perfect to spread on top. I think choosing the cream would have made it even better. Warm, English comfort. It almost brought me back to the time I first tried a scone when I was living in London and my mother gave me a chunk, which I reluctantly accepted. I think everyone can agree that carbs are quite beautiful..?

Their espresso is acidic, which is to my taste, but not so to quite a many other. Down a shot for a morning or late afternoon perk.

So um, secret’s out.

One Man Coffee

215R Upper Thomson Road

Open daily 9am-5pm (closed Tuesdays)

6456 1555

Posted on by alexcrumb 1

Champignon cheese and roasted grape tartine

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Right so, before I dive into my mountain of work, I just want to share this little 10-minute recipe with you. Last night, as I was hovering over the theories of pKa and pKb of acid base equilibria, I felt the need to enliven my hardened, stout mouth with something sweet. I always have frozen grapes in the freezer, so I reached for a small bowl of those. I then wondered if I could manipulate these little babies and turn them into a beauteous element in my breakfast the next day, since Saturdays are pretty much the only time I get to experiment in the kitchen, and get together with my best friend Connor, or in real words my Nikon. What to do? Grilled cheese perhaps. I could’ve, you know. But I felt it a bit too stereotypical and I didn’t think we had the right sort of aged cheddar or taleggio around. Then I remembered my dear mother having bought me that enigmatic flat stump of.. what was it? Something with mushrooms. Something with cheese, akin to the texture of brie. Behold, this was born. And please. I had the best bread lying around.

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Champignon Cheese and roasted grape tartine

Ingredients

  • crimson grapes
  • one slice good sourdough or raisin walnut bread
  • champignon cheese spread (may be substituted with ricotta or even melted sharp cheddar. Anything goes really.)
  • coarse sea salt and olive oil
  • balsamic glaze
  • honey or maple syrup
  • 1 tsp chia seeds (opt)

Steps

  1. Preheat oven to 200oC. Roast two handfuls of grapes with sea salt and olive oil for 10 minutes (mine were done and went delicious and bubbly after 7, so just keep an eye on your oven).
  2. Toast bread of choice. Spread on champignon cheese and if you want, season with a pinch of salt.
  3. Take grapes out of oven, spoon on top of cheese. If you are using green grapes, add a layer of beetroot orange relish first, to add some flavour and colour contrast.
  4. Drizzle liberally with honey (I used orange blossom here), chia seeds and balsamic glaze.

You’re welcome.

Posted on by alexcrumb 0

Brown

  • ‘Life has taught me that 95% of people are always wrong.”

That actually deserved its own bullet point. Don’t know where that’s from? Go have a little Internet peek. In fact no, scrap that, there’s really no need. What good will that do? Sometimes things are best appreciated without knowledge of every minute detail, with every painful little aspect fixed and screwed down in front of you. Analysis is one way of dealing with life, and then there’s a vague, casual, breezy bliss.

You’re probably wondering where all this is going.

I’m talking about brownies, friend. Brownies.

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Baking is an art which requires painstaking precision and by-the-book loyalty. There are typically a few tweaks here and there, as most of my fellow baking friends would agree whenever it comes to tackling recipes made by different people from different parts of the world. Thing’s like surrounding temperature and ingredient quality/origin and oven tolerance all varies from place to place, from country to country. I tried making a Nigella meringue once with my mother and realised only at the very end that no, our 40 degree weather was not the same as ‘room temperature’ in South London (we worked something out in the end). All in all, the ratio’s got to be right down pat.

Um.

Yes, brownies. I looked into my pantry and heard myself physically sigh as I realised there was no more dark, treacly muscovado sugar left. Can’t treat anyone or myself to dense, chewy, fudgy goodness anymore, I assumed. But just as how 95% of people are usually wrong, so was I. Wow, I can’t discount myself from anything anymore.

I stumbled across this recipe online, entitled ‘Robert’s Absolute Best Brownie Recipe’. You’re most likely not a human if you are not tempted by this alluring title, and really, who doesn’t indulge in some excessive link clicking. It looked too good to be true. I remember the first time I tried it I didn’t follow the instructions perfectly. Since there is so little flour (quarter cup only) in a whole batch, I turned up my nose and added more.

And more.

But there’s a science to this, and after my first try, I realised I was quite foolish. Childish even, for not being able to wait. The next attempt yielded something quite magical. And you have to be the one to try it before you can come close to understanding what exactly I mean. I think I should just get on with it.

~

INGREDIENTS

  • 6 tablespoons (85g) unsalted or salted butter, cut into pieces, plus more for the pan
  • 8 ounces (228g) bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, chopped
  • 2/3 cup sugar
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 2 large eggs, at room temperature
  • 1/4 cup all-purpose flour

DIRECTIONS

  • 1. Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C).
  • 2. Line an 8 or 9-inch square pan with 2 long lengths of aluminum foil or parchment paper, positioning the sheets perpendicular to one other and allowing the excess to extend beyond the edges of the pan. Lightly butter the foil or parchment.
  • 3. In a medium saucepan over low heat, melt the butter. Add the chocolate and stir by hand until it is melted and smooth.
  • 4. Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the sugar and vanilla until combined. Beat in the eggs by hand, 1 at a time. Add the flour and stir energetically for 1 full minute—time yourself—until the batter loses its graininess, becomes smooth and glossy, and pulls away a bit from the sides of the saucepan. [Editor’s Note: There are two crucial elements in the making of these brownies. One is throwing yourself into the making of them by stirring them “energetically,” as the recipe stipulates. The second, also spelled out in the recipe, is making certain you stir the batter thusly for a full minute. It may appear to separate a few seconds into stirring, and it may appear grainy midway through, but when you stir with vigor for a full 60 seconds–and we do mean a full 60 seconds, along the lines of “One Mississippi, two Mississippi…”–you’ll end up with a batter that’s rich, thick, satiny smooth, and glossy as can be. Therein lies the difference between dry, crumbly brownies and the world’s best brownies.]
  • 5. Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and bake until the center feels almost set, about 25 minutes.
  • 6. Let cool completely before cutting.

I adjusted the amount of sugar and removed all the additional nutty additions just to present the purity of the batter on its own. And see the bolded clause? That right there is the most important part. Get it wrong and the entire thing will crumble before your eyes. These things are depressing, so just follow and be honest with the timing. What you’re looking for is for the batter to suddenly pull away from the sides, yielding a glossy chocolate pool, almost gurgling and bubbling with stick and bick, rich and thickly dripping.

This is a base batter, so go ahead and add whatever you like before thrusting it in the oven, be it nuts, marshmallows, berries, cream cheese, or hell’s bells, more chocolate. The intense stirring time might vary actually, from 1 to a full 5 minutes. Mine took a full 5, whilst the other time I’m sure it took much shorter. My biceps were fit to look part of a rock crag. Though after sufficient bicep rest, I took these babies out of their scorching hell and let them rest, like a sighing thing, settling down, fudgy bellies swelling.

Posted on by alexcrumb 0