Strangers’ Reunion

So I couldn’t find the door. The large glass door which lead directly to the light wood enclave so appropriately named Strangers’ Reunion. Let… Let me tell you a short story. I leave my house, take the bus to Tiong Bahru, get lost, hail a cab. Typical, normal, I would say. Nothing not very Alex-like. But I think the embarrassment peaked when I found myself floundering about like a complete and utter idiot even when I reached the shophouse. The words were clear, right there in front of me, I even saw my two cute and nice and short friends Celeste and Liz (probably laughing at my incapability as a human being) sitting in the corner. Not finding the door is just not acceptable. The whole time I was there I felt like lashing out at all the sensible people who were capable of opening the right door at the first try. Ha, they’ve probably been here before anyway.

You come in and the first thing which greets you is a jovial crowd, some bespectacled bohemians quietly, nonchalantly sipping away at their flat whites (or the more sophisticated with their espressos) behind the mysterious screens of their macs. Small tables aligned along the sides, all rather close to one another, all wooden and shiny, plastered with the faint drone of orange light. I? I was an SR virgin. I’ve seen pictures and things of course, all of crisp 6-inch wide browned buttermilk waffles with lashings of beautiful toppings accompanied by even more beautiful cups of coffee. We were already past the lunchtime-nigh, so tragically I wanted something savoury. Ordered and waited, the three of us chatting non-stop over various social situations and nonsense like the wonderful nonsensical beings we are.

cappuccino, $4.90 and iced mocha, $6.50.

Say hello to the long-locked ladies who lunch- Liz (left) and Celeste. Aren’t their smiles gorgeous? Don’t ask me why the camera focus is on the glass bottle because it just so happened to be that momentary mistake and regret. I ordered the cappuccino, seeing it only fit to try their famed milky concoctions, a little startled by the price but this surprise was stunted when I was greeted by the beautifully and intricately decorated image of a swan nestled in a large purple cup on a yellow saucer. Plater certainly knows his complementary colours. One of the best foam art works I’ve seen yet, almost perfectly symmetrical, the swan itself brimming with a delicate life, albeit the fragile wispiness. The coffee itself isn’t robust enough, and I didn’t finish it. Heard a myriad good things about it, though. Perhaps it was one of those one-off circumstances. Despite the (oh-so) tiny letdown, I was highly impressed by the quality of the bean, which I could taste in the first tender sip. Yes, it must be tender, because rushing through a coffee just isn’t very connoisseur-like now, is it.

Poached eggs on english muffin with a side of honey baked ham, $8.00+$4.00, eggs florentine with spinach, smoked salmon and hollandaise on ciabatta, $18.00

What I like is how you can choose from all the various sides as well as the type of bread you should like to nicely sop up all the yolk and hollandaise. Their hollandaise was a little on the thicker side, but the flavour was preserved with the right amount of tang, the butter not saying farewell to the well-whipped yolks. The poached eggs fared eggsellently. See what I did there. Yolks and more yolks! It was disgustingly yolk-y heaven. Rich and sodden, yellow and beautiful. One soft slip of the fork caused an outrageous, glorious burst of bright yellow, spilling over onto the sides, buttering the lonely spinach leaves, offering a soft glaze for the lovely salmon beneath. Everything mixed together in perfect harmony. I enjoyed this a little too much, but the one thing I regret not getting for myself was this baby right below.

‘Can I have a bite?’

‘Sure.’

And thank God for that.

Before you die of a visual orgasm, let me just make it clear that yes, this was both beautiful and delicious. A lot of beautiful things aren’t worth all the praise, but this… This.

Special of the day: Buttermilk waffles with caramel bananas, walnut crunch and vanilla ice cream, $14.90

You’ve heard of buttermilk pancakes, buttermilk scones, buttermilk in your pants. These buttermilk waffles are the lightest, crispest babies in the universe, and when fastened in that ridiculous, flawless, unbeatable, traditional (alright I’ll stop) combination of banana, vanilla and caramel, I warn you, you might cry. Yeah, in public. Everyone will watch you shed buttermilk tears into your perfect circle of yeast and flour and sugar- oh, sugar. Cut into it. Crisp, golden, carnal. It’s dangerous, it implores you to go on, zombie-like, to take your fork and smear a little of that ice cream on top, make it pretty with a sliver of caramel (note I say caramel, not caramelised, because that’s just the way they serve it, perhaps to make you feel a little less guilty over your pre-New Year gluttony, in an effort to kid yourself over your wondrous efforts to nourish that slovenly little body of yours) banana and walnut, go on, go on. I could go on, but that might be a little mean. When I say fluffy and light, I mean it. Too many a time I encounter stodgy, dense rocks with little square holes pricked in the middle to resemble (gasp) waffles.

Please just go and order this. I implore you.

Rating: 4.7/ 5.0

Strangers’ Reunion

37 Kampong Bahru Rd
6222 4869

Posted on December 31, 2013February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 0

Anthesis

I like solo trips.

Anthesis- the period when a flower becomes sexually functional. Oh it’s functional, alright.

Just two doors down from Toby’s Estate, one of my other favourite coffee joints. I was tempted by their new menu additions and charming interior, but this other wooden dream did the trick (almost) as well. I needed a coffee and I needed some damn french toast to satiate this pining ache, this whining brunch stomach. An iced coffee for me. I’m not ordering a cap on this sun-drenched morning, no. Without the syrup, the complex notes of the Bean shine through immaculately. Fresh, and the size was quaint.

Sexy.

I have this obsession with eggy bread. French toast. Pain perdu. Whatever you deign appropriate for the breakfast queen. No but really, absolutely nothing compares to the words ‘french toast’ on a menu. Yes, not even eggs. This right here is their magnificent french toast stack layered with beautifully caramelised bananas, whipped cream, mascarpone cheese and butterscotch sauce. It took me a while to move my eyes past the provocative oozing and dripping of the cream down the dense and crisp, eggy edges. The square stack was an edible jenga tower, and I could make the first move. My knife creeped in, and all hell broke loose. I drizzled the sauce over everything- a thick brown coating of lust. A little embarrassing when you’re dining alone, as the sweet cream splays everywhere with bits of bread and mushy bananas. I probably looked ridiculous and greedy and terrible. The cheese was a nice touch, offering a fine savoury edge to the otherwise overly sweet mish mash of stodge and sugar. The bread could have been a tad less dense, such as the french toast I had at Skyve Elementary, another place I should get around to doing a review on soon. The eggy flavour here was half pronounced, and the cream was a little excessive between bites. Nevertheless. It’s french toast.

I couldn’t leave without stealing one of their passionfruit yuzu meringue tarts (!!) This was a slow and sinful home degustation. Gorgeous meringue flecks atop a rich and tart curd. The crust held all its own, lightly sweetened and firm, even after being out of the fridge for a while. The curd was on the more wobbly, fragile side, and the meringue full and sweet. I’m going to try their sea salt chocolate version next time.

Rating: 4.6/5

Anthesis

86 Robertson Quay

6737 9873

Posted on December 5, 2013February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 1

Brûléed French Toast

So I’m supposed to be reviewing the work of Wilfred Owen for a practice oral today, but here I am instead, gushing over one of the best french toast recipes I’ve come across. There’s just something about french toast in the morning which gives the breakfast-eating ritual a sacred, yet lucid and carefree touch. One of my favourite recipe blogs is Poires Au Chocolat. Emma’s writing and photography is clean, personal and humble. The hard work she puts into everything is evident in her gorgeous final products, the pride and joy of her culinary efforts.

Her recipe may be found here: Brûléed French Toast

Did I have a blow torch?

No. I didn’t cry though, because this recipe was still absolutely perfect with my cup of coffee, the papers and note jotting. Definitely missed out on a flashy statement, but nevertheless I loved this. There is a narrow egg to milk ratio, making this recipe particularly rich and joyous. And please use whole milk, ample butter and good vanilla extract. Makes all the difference. The fluffiness of the brioche was a soft pillow beneath that lightly seared crust, patches of beautiful, buttery brown. I added some warmed berries and maple syrup, but it’s sweet enough on its own.

So. If you would.

Posted on November 16, 2013February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 3

Food for Thought (Botanical Gardens)

Oh, blasted heat.

Those late monday afternoons are never heavily sought after, and yet I had the time of my life just being alone with this special person. Extempore pop-down, down the stairs, welcomed by a floor of benches surrounded by lush greenery, foliage tips sparkling in the sun, an indoor area beckoning.

Pardon my interruption of a face.

Him: Pulled pork burger and san pellegrino

Me: Breakfast set and homemade lime tea

I can’t exactly fault it, for it is what it is, and nothing more. The toast was thick but not overly dense, with a crusty coat of well settled butter, a curtain of bacon pulling the whole dish together with a salty twist. The eggs were indeed, definitely undercooked on top, as I watched the jelly-like whites shiver and wobble around the circle of yellow. A little post-fry broiling never hurt. His pulled pork pulled off (see what I did there) better depth of flavour, though it could have been twice as tender with a sweeter cut. My tea was as sweet as unsophisticated tea gets, but in that heat, I am still eternally grateful for it. Eternally grateful.

Rating: 3.2/ 5

Food for Thought

Singapore Botanic Gardens

Posted on November 9, 2013February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 0

Breakfast Adventures

Consecrated, shy Saturday rays.

There’s just something about stuff on toast. Sometimes, it’s not just about the smushing together of peanut butter and jam. Oftentimes, a more savoury and nourishing hat rattles the old engines and breathes life into mornings. So easy you feel guilty. But guilty at pleasure’s stake.

roasted grapes with ricotta on grilled sourdough

A fork affair. Moist avocado ‘crumbs’ and the warm tang of fresh, halfway-there compote.

smashed avocado and raspberry compote on dark rye

I’m excited.

For what?

For the possibilities this world holds when it come to breakfast. The sacred routine of waking up, pondering a little, hovering a little, before either following a set recipe, or perhaps just mixing unexpected ingredients together, just for the sake of amateur experimentation, laden with a golden hope.

Ready to learn.

Posted on September 20, 2013February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 0

alexcrumb

recipes, catering, creativity

alexcrumb

Tag: #breakfast

Strangers’ Reunion

Anthesis

Brûléed French Toast

Food for Thought (Botanical Gardens)

Breakfast Adventures