Tag: #delicious

Tuna mash and poached egg on toast

Processed with VSCOcam with f2 preset

I threw some random things together that day. I was extremely skeptical about the flavour combination, but this worked perfectly and served to annihilate some grogginess, pre-coffee works, of course. I needed an egg, a sharp crunch of bread to be the bed of a multitude of flavours, something a little thick- a more savoury spread of sorts. This is so simple.

Ingredients

  • one thick slice of good sourdough or raisin bread (this was plain rye sourdough)
  • 1 fresh egg
  • 2 teaspoons white vinegar
  • For the side salad: simple salad mix of whatever you may, washed and tossed in reduced balsamic lemon vinaigrette made with balsamic, lemon juice and olive oil. Amount of salad mix you wish to use is completely up to you. I used about a half cup.
  • For tuna mash: 1 can tuna packed in water, quarter cup canned corn, 1 tablespoon mayonnaise, 1 tablespoon greek yoghurt, half tablespoon Dijon mustard and lashings of pepper.
  • small handful cherry tomatoes, sliced in half
  • 2 baby radishes
  • pinch of chilli flakes

Directions

  1. Toast bread of choice.  A little burnt is okay. Medium burnt will pass. Me? I practically go for carcinogenic. Kill me whenever.
  2. Poach your egg: Crack fresh egg into a small bowl. Fill a deep saucepan 3/4 full of water and let come to a boil. Reduce to a simmer, add vinegar and make small whirlpool. Slowly add your egg and continue swirling with slotted spoon. I just used a normal spoon because the slotted spoon I had on hand didn’t look clean enough to use and I was merely too lazy to go ALL the way to the sink and do more washing. Actual problems of a lazy teenage breakfast aficionado. It’s quite tragic. Anyways, wait for around 3 minutes before taking out your beautiful poached baby.
  3. In the meantime, toss tuna and corn mash ingredients together in a small bowl. Take two tablespoons of mixture and liberally coat toast, or however much you want, really. Reserve the rest in the fridge for future use. Lick the spoons each time.
  4. Remove egg from water- test it first by poking its belly with your finger. There should be a slight wobble, neither too floppy or firm.
  5. Thinly slice baby radishes and add to the salad. Place poached egg on toast and whip out your pepper cracker and chilli flakes. Do what you’re meant to do.
  6. Marvel at how pretty it looks.
  7. Slice, eat, pore over the papers and pour some coffee.
  8. Enjoy that sort of morning while it lasts.

IMG_6469

Posted on by alexcrumb 3

Ricotta Pancakes

DSC_2737 DSC_2741 DSC_2744

This, dear foodies, takes 10 minutes to make, and just a little longer to cook. Dead. Easy.

A few people have requested this recipe, so I’ll quickly post it to prevent any unwanted snags at my feet a little later. The thing is, I never make pancakes a whole lot, which probably sounds like sacrilege to most. I then came across the quaintest, most moreish-looking recipe for lemon ricotta hot cakes on the website whiteonricecouple.com, in other words the most beautfiful food photography blog ever? And ok, I actually came across it two months ago. So yes, it’s been a whole two months before I decided to whisk some butter and sugar together for the sake of following it. God, it’s a beaut. I followed the original recipe once, but the second time I made a few adjustments.

These hotcakes, or mini silver dollar pancakes if you will, are oddly tender due to the quick-whisked egg whites in the batter (don’t fret! This part takes 30 seconds at most! I swear my life on it) and whole-milk ricotta and milk. Yes, you need good, whole milk for this. None of the almond or soy stuff, no matter how nourishing that feels later on. It’s a Sunday.

Ricotta Pancakes (serves 2-3)

Ingredients:

  • 2/3 cup all-purpose flour
  • 2.5 tablespoons sugar
  • 0.5 teaspoon salt
  • 0.5 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 0.5 teaspoon nutmeg/cinnamon
  • 0.5 tablespoons baking powder (I like decimal places, if you cannot already tell)
  • 1.25 cup whole milk ricotta
  • 0.5 cup milk
  • 2 eggs, separated into yolks and whites
  • butter for cooking

Procedure:

  1. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, salt, nutmeg/cinnamon (I didn’t have fresh nutmeg so I just used cinnamon) and baking powder for at least 30 seconds.
  2. Separate the eggs and put whites aside.
  3. In a medium bowl containing the egg yolks you just extracted from those beautiful fresh eggs you just cracked, whisk in the ricotta, milk and vanilla extract. Lots of vanilla. Yum yum.
  4. Immediately fold the dry ingredients in and do NOT overmix. Mix until just combined and set aside.
  5. Whisk the egg whites by hand until foamy. I urge you to do it by hand because this step takes no time at all and why would I want you to whip out those dreaded electronic whisks for extra cleaning later on? Come on now.
  6. Pour the translucent whites into the batter you set aside and mix until just combined once more. Don’t be thorough with this batter, it does its job when you’re more laid back.
  7. Cook on a medium hot pan with a thin film of unsalted butter. It takes around 2 minutes a side. Flip when you see mini bubbles forming on the surface.
  8. Serve with butter and maple syrup (smashed berries and jam if you want) because that’s all you really need for this darn brilliant recipe.
  9. Take a fork, cut a nice triangle in the stack, or of two if you’re polite, and enjoy with a cup of good coffee.
  10. Make a mental note to make these again in the near future.
Posted on by alexcrumb 0

Halia (Raffles Hotel)

DSC_2723 DSC_2724 DSC_2725

Yeah, um. You see that? I’m not even starting with a decent introduction to the place. Instead I just thrust their sticky toffee date pudding in your faces because I believe that’s what you deserve as a perfectly decent introduction. So now yes, I proclaim this a decent introduction. I hope that’s alright. And because I believe in revolting carnal pleasure before anything less provocative gets in the way. Halia at Raffles Hotel, or in other words that place I always pass by whilst brisk walking with my Dad in the Botanic Gardens, except this time it’s at the oldest hotel in the country. I’ll just run you through this pudding real quick.

Sticky toffee date pudding –$10

Honestly one of the best I’ve ever had. Ok so, when it came, I thought it looked a little boring. Average-sized flattened cuboid with some probably average vanilla ice cream for tradition’s sake. Ha, wrong again. It undoubtedly beat the one from Marmalade Pantry, in terms of texture and sweetness level. This tongue can’t take too much of a sugar overload, I swear. Yes, even I. It could shrivel up and die. This was surprisingly moist, although the banana bread appearance could be refined. Moist, dense, with the right amount of aeration to soak up all the cool vanilla and warm, sweet caramel, like a brown child grovelling on sticky ground for some fair-weather pleasure. I particularly enjoyed the slight addition of sea salt and homemade (yes, yes) butterscotch.

DSC_2696 DSC_2697 DSC_2702 DSC_2707 DSC_2708 DSC_2711

DSC_2714

Chilli crab dip with toasted baguette– $14

Deep fried squid, with spring onion lime syrup dip and piquant mayo– $14

Pork sausage and mash (from kids menu)

Fried bocconcini, roast red onion, capsicum and mesclun salad with balsamic – $17

Alright, I didn’t know the fare here was going to be that impressive. The mother and I shared the three starters; that chilli crab dip was divine- mildly spicy, creamy, well-textured with the even slivers of fresh crab meat. Ugh, yum, especially with the oh-so sophisticatedly toasted baguette. Eat it slow, or you may get a crabby overdose with no room for any of the other rather amazing stuff. The bocconcini (mozzarella) salad was a perfectly petite size, offering crunch and serious stringiness, as you may see in the photo above. Yeah, that was vulgar stringiness. Thank goodness for the tart and lemony salad, or the little fried balls by themselves would have been plain, old, trite things. As for the squid, what was most intriguing was the sauces they served it with. Hello, sweet pairings (?). I was confused, then intrigued, then pleased. I used the two dips as an excuse for the baguette, because I thought it’s toasted, airy texture fit the soaking process more, and made the whole experience of dip and eat more enjoyable. I picked at some of my sister’s sausage and mash, almost scoffing at the putrid size (who was I to judge, it was a damn kids option for goodness sake), but was shocked at the aromatic, whipped velvet of white, speckled mash, and juicy, well done pork sausage. It didn’t even need a sauce reduction!

DSC_2712 DSC_2715 DSC_2719 DSC_2718

62.5 degrees C poached eggs with roma tomato, baby spinach and herb butter sauce on toasted brioche– $20 (my mother is a vegetarian so we passed on the extra mortadella and pistachio ham).

Basically one of the highlights of my life. I mean, of the day. You know, it runs the same route.

Here’s another one of my little stories. So I move the golden slab of brioche a little, very, very little on the plate, and then boom. The beautiful little pregnant egg, so delicate and translucent that you can feel the yolk tremble and weep underneath the 0.01mm thick membrane of white, dropped its belly to the white ground. These guys were so careful to poach it at this precise temperature, under such precise conditions, yielding the most vulnerable, scared little egg. Oh, poor egg. Oh, beautiful, poor egg. But weak it was not. It survived not just one, but two falls, after some clumsy knife handling on my part once again. It finally let its inhibitions go once I stroked the surface with my knife, as if that force alone actually beat that of the ground-hitting phase. Really. Yolk everywhere. It was a beautiful, carnal mess.

Mushed it all up. I let the brioche go soggy, let the tomato and spinach drink up the sunny hues of yolk, yolk and more yolk. The fresh, cooked vegetables, bouncy, lovely-textured mushrooms and balsamic-glazed red onions paired the rich egg-and-herbed butter combo perfectly. Every moment was one spent in sanctimony, I tell you.

DSC_2720

Rating: 4.83/5 (I like complicated decimals)

The Halia at Raffles Hotel

1 Beach Road
#01-22/23 Raffles Hotel
Singapore 189673
Tel: +65 9639 1148

Guys, I love eggs.

Posted on by alexcrumb 2

Champignon cheese and roasted grape tartine

DSC_2592 DSC_2607

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.

DSC_2622 DSC_2630 DSC_2635

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

Baker and Cook

DSC_2482 DSC_2480 DSC_2464

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.

DSC_2466 DSC_2468 DSC_2471

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.

DSC_2469

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

Posted on by alexcrumb 0