Tag: bread

Moist Banana Bread

Because I can’t have this blog without sharing my favourite banana bread recipe. On Earth. Ever. Bread? Cake? Is there a difference between banana versions of either? I personally just call it banana bread, you dashing BB, because I’ve always associated the teatime stuff with a traditional bread-like texture. More robust, hearty, almost wholesome. Less airy-fairy, but call it a cake if you wish. I think I’ll stick to the former. My favourite sweet and dense bread. There are those who like sticky fruit cakes, the sort you can stick your hand into and it feels like muddy air, and this is no different, except perhaps the bits and bobs of banana will stick lovingly to your fingers, and when you pull them out your hands smell like the best bloody thing in the universe.

The smell of banana bread baking and emerging from the oven, then resting for a while, a solid, plump and golden thing, is my favourite ‘oven smell’ ever. One of the purest joys in life.

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I think there are 3 things which make it brilliant.

1. There’s thick and lush Greek yoghurt in it, for superb moisture and flavour.

2. The whole cup of mashed banana and perhaps more, in some cases where 3 mashed bananas nicely exceed that capacity. If I had to re-label this recipe, it would definitely be ‘double banana bread’.

3. The use of flavourless vegetable oil instead of melted butter, which I think aids in producing a lighter, more tender crumb, and doesn’t mask the natural sweetness or flavour of ripe banana.

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Divine, and so easy that there’s really no other way I make it now. I have serious history with this recipe, and it’s funny how I’m only posting it now. Ridiculous. I’ve tried out so many variations– with and without yoghurt, made with just milk, no oil/no butter… Anyways, here I am and boy am I glad I’m finally spilling the beans.

Classic Banana Bread (makes one 9×5-inch loaf)

Ingredients

3 medium bananas, ripe and mashed (usually amounts to about one cup, and lumps of banana make for better texture)

90g (0.5 cup) light brown sugar

100g (0.5 cup) white caster sugar

2 eggs (vegan sub: 2 flax eggs made from 2 tbsp ground flaxseed mixed with 4 tbsp water)

45g (3 tbsp) melted salted butter/vegetable oil

125g yoghurt, or use almond/soy/coconut yoghurt if you’re vegan

240g (1.5-2 cups) all-purpose flour

*note: I’ve made this using half whole-wheat flour and half all-purpose flour, and the end result was just as brilliant. A little less devious, but equally moist and decadent.

1 tsp each of baking powder and baking soda

Optional add-ins: 150g dark chocolate/nuts/a mix of both

Directions

Grease a standard 9×5-inch loaf pan, line with parchment paper and preheat your oven to 162 C (325F).

In a large bowl, whisk together the mashed banana, sugars, eggs, melted butter and yoghurt with a whisk or a fork. If your butter is not salted then add 0.5 tsp of fine salt now. In another smaller bowl, briefly mix together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt with a spoon. Add the chocolate and/or nuts at this point and mix these in well. Add the dry mix to wet mix, and fold briefly until just combined. Lumps are welcome. Pour into the pan and bake for 60-75 minutes. With my oven, I found that the perfect baking time is 70 minutes (1hr and 10 mins). Bask in that smell.

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The Bravery

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Shabby chic.

I don’t know about you, but I’m quite liking the old industrial theme of some places. Including this one. There was massive self-conflict this morning, when I was debating between hopping off to a more convenient spot, or deliberately trudging along unknown sidewalks in the heat to arrive at this signless, but rather enticing spot in the Lavender Street area. Neon red and black, almost translucent windows, stark, straightforward pale wooden furniture, the exclusive hidden feel. It felt as if there was a children’s party right before I walked in and they forgot to take home some decorations. Child VS sophisticate. I liked it.

Lavender Latte–$5.50
Lavender Latte–$5.50

‘Weird’, I can already hear some of you say. Ok, no. If you’re planning to come for the coffee, you can’t, just can’t leave without trying this. Exquisitely smooth, creamy, mildly sweet and tickled with the fine infusion of lavender. Understated, milky elegance. This is a latte after all. Skip if you’re not a fan of floral-infused drinks. My mother would empathise.

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Crostini– $6.50 Aubergine, chickpeas, mint, feta and onion atop sourdough toast

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They are famous for their banana triple-stack pancakes, but for some ridiculous reason I was craving something a little more on the savoury side, and so I ordered this hulk of a brunch dish. Mushy, plump pieces of aubergine, translucent onions, fading mint. The chickpeas were tainted with the juices of the dark and stubborn vegetable they were cooked with. Looks quite a mess up there, but my fork told otherwise. There could have been more feta (sprinkles don’t cut it) to enliven the dish a little more, adding a better kick of flavour. Perhaps a bit more spice or pepper, but on the whole this was pretty darn delicious. I started to enjoy the dish even more as time went by, since the toppings melded so nicely with one another as they cooled down, allowing the flavours to emerge properly on my palate. The sourdough yielded a wonderful flavour and was properly oiled and toasted.

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Cappuccino– $4.50

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‘It’s on the house’, he said. Kind, kind barista!

Stumped and stunned. But hell, free coffee only makes one a better person, right? I’m really quite impressed by the service here; I got to talk to most of the staff at the counter, and the lady told me I was free to stay for as long as I wanted to, unless it got too crowded. So there I sat, working at my computer, and the hours went by in the best way possible. The tables are perfect for work, and the music isn’t too loud either. What immense pleasure.

Smooth, sophisticated, but a little too milky and not enough punch than what I’m used to. It was a dream to sip, but a more acidic edge would have been preferable. That being said, I wouldn’t mind ordering this again, for the sake of sentiment and that creamy consistency.

Other menu options include eggs poached or fried on artisan bread, the pancakes I mentioned earlier, Mediterranean-inspired eggs, avocado and bacon, smoked salmon sandwiches and a small selection of sweet treats at the display counter. They also serve iced coffee with shots of mocha, espresso or soy, as well as Gryphon (ooh, how aristocratic) tea. In all honesty, I didn’t feel too bad paying for the quality of what I got.

 

 

Rating: 4.5/5

The Bravery Cafe

66 Horne Road

8:00am – 8:00pm daily, closed on Tuesdays

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Dark chocolate and sea salt on toast

No, this does not need a recipe. I’d just like to revel in the glory of two of my favourite things in the world– dark chocolate and toast. Just.

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I don’t think it’s right not to have this at least once in your life.

I bought a new loaf of campagne yuzu bread yesterday on impulse, because that thing looked too good to pass up. It just sat there, lonely, cold, at the display counter. How could I not?

Here is what you need:

  • your favourite bread, whatever that might be. Grab a white bloomer if that satisfies you!
  • couple squares good quality dark chocolate (70% is ideal)
  • sprinkle of coarse salt (I used pink Himalayan)
  • a toaster
  • I’ll stop here
  • too simple

I always have dark chocolate around. Somewhere. Anything less than 70% might just be child’s play, but nothing against that.

Literally take the chocolate, pop it on your favourite slice, slide into the toaster or broiler for 3 minutes until crusty and darkened. Sprinkle on pinch of coarse sea salt, before doing your business.

That’s all I have to say (!)

 

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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.

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Baker and Cook

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Right. So. Baker and Cook. You know that feeling you get when you finally get to try some place that’s parading its raved goods everywhere on social media? Yeah, I got that feeling. Even when I stepped into the original, tiny (that beats the word minuscule, mind you) location at 77 Hillcrest Road, really near the pizza place I used to drag my parents along to as a kid. The place reeked of my childhood food memories. You walk in and there’s literally one big table, just one, aside from the two stools next to the window and a small outdoor table for two. That’s it? I thought. I have really got to learn how not to have such high expectations of everything. I was underestimating the untold grandeur of bread-crazed homies.

The place is named an artisan bakery, and I’ve tried a range of their goods, from their lamingtons to their famed carrot cake. Almost everything except the infamous, devilish, apparently ‘The Best’ lemon tart in town. Well of course i had to get it, for their wasn’t any other choice. Correction: I made my mother pay, since she surprised me with this morning trip anyway. Family benefits. I won’t complain. Oh right, I should also mention that it’s $4.95.

Verdict? Ok so, I cut it in half first, before forking a sliver and easing it a nice bit of curd and crust ever so delicately into my tentative mouth. I let the lemon coat the front half of my tongue, relished the sweetness, the tart stickiness, before coming to the realisation: It’s a tad too sweet. The crust too, I confirmed, as I continued the forking action. Not that I didn’t enjoy it. In fact, I could even say I thoroughly enjoyed it. But this, my friend, is not the best. Add one more lemon in whatever curd batter you’re churning, mate. And the crust could be on the lighter side of sweet, just to enhance the tingling tartness of a traditional lemon tart.

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Iced cappuccino– $4.50+$0.50

French toast (New!- Yes, that’s how they said it, with the exclamation mark)–$16.00

Oh my goodness, this french toast. Penchants run deep, so despite spotting words like ‘pancakes’ and ‘eggs benedict’ and ‘quiche’, all I could see was the golden arched halo above the ‘french toast’, and its winning description. Yes, it’s 16 bucks for some stranger, from me to him, oh happy guy, but this was anything but 16 bucks down the drain. Homemade brioche, dipped in lightly spiced egg custard, served with fresh fruit, maple syrup, lemon curd and mascarpone, and oh, for the heck of it, let’s sprinkle on tablespoons of icing sugar and toasted almonds. Now do you see why it’s 16. To further my point, the plate was around 10 inches wide. No food joke. It was an egg monster waiting to be gobbled up by another egg monster, if you know what I mean. The brioche was nicely thick and browned, holey enough to soak up all that spiced custard (mm, cinnamon and ginger), with the sides calling out to me with leftover, curly bits of egg batter, which you could tell was eggy enough due to it’s almost-fried-egg consistency. And I liked that. That rustic factor. Who cares if there’s a bit of twisted, dried egg batter at the sides? If anything, it was rather inconspicuous. The taste made up for every possible flaw that might have been there and gone unnoticed.

And you know, they’re actually geniuses for adding the lemon curd and mascarpone. Absolute geniuses. I hope you can observe my enthusiasm for lemon and how perfectly it went with the thick and wonderful toast in the picture right above. I’ve made my own lemon curd before, and I must say this one was up a notch on the thick and gluggy scale. Colour beckoned, taste was banal after a while. That was the thing with all the lemon dishes there. Just that bit too sweet. The syrup was also a little more like honey, and more fruit wouldn’t hurt. The mascarpone was a nice touch but looked shallow in comparison to the better lemon-and-french pairing. God, I love lemons. I love french toast even more, and I say that proudly when I look at that picture- moist, airy, fluffy french brioche smushed together with curd.

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Eggs Benedict– $19.00 (two poached eggs on toasted pain miche with hollandaise and hint of balsamic glaze and chilli oil, with salmon)

The balsamic glaze and chilli oil thing they had going on intrigued me. I watched my mother attach the crusty, heady plate of lavishly decorated eggy goodness with her knife and fork, mixing everything together into a hurricane of hollandaise and salmon madness. You see the crust? That was a babe, a real sight to behold. The crack was enticing, the melding together of more savoury flavours pleading. A bite was all I asked, and that was all I got. Felt the tang of the hollandaise and robust crunch of pain miche coat the salmon, that fishy flavour you first detect on your palate, with buttery breadcrumbs, cut in half like a fierce interjector by the softly sweet balsamic, even though amounts-wise it was rather paltry. The balsamic I mean, not anything else, Oh no, definitely not anything else. I wouldn’t have been able to polish off more than I slice of this rustic rye for the life of me (but that’s just me and my putrid stomach acting up again).

Fabulous.

This artisan bakery also sells homemade packaged products, loaves (I should die to try their fig and aniseed sourdough and wholemeal farmhouse toast), cakes and sweet buns. Tucked away in Hilcrest meant the most unusual peaceful and green morning for the mother and I. Thanks for paying, mother, let’s go back again so I can try their tartines?

Rating: 3.9/5.0

Baker and Cook

77 Hillcrest Road

64698834

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