Blu Kouzina

DSC_1344 DSC_1345

To one and all. I am no longer a Greek food virgin. I can now safely say that perhaps all I need to try now is fish sperm and bull’s penis and all shall be well and good. It was all rather hurried, a flash, a stop. Greek food sounded all right, the sort of thing drowned in olive oil and cheese and olives. Very nice. But the experience I encountered was more holy than satisfying, I swear on it. And I now understand the three classes of olive oil- robust, medium and delicate. Not that I need to or anything. But I like to fill my life with useless, pleasurable knick knacks.

At the top we have xoriatiki, a greek salad with olives, a lovely large slab of feta, tomatoes, peppers and cucumber. The zing held its appeal even in the pool of oily dressing which, of course, made it characteristically Greek, however I do think they could’ve reduced the oil factor just a little to let the freshness of the vegetables shine through. It’s never nice to have the taste of naked oil soaking the walls of your throat, nothing to cling to. And then, melitzanosalata. Or in english, smoked eggplant mixed with herbs. Absolutely moreish. The sweetness of the eggplant was mushed together with miniature cheese fragments and fragrant herb, though it wasn’t as dowdy or drab as a plate of mashed ripe banana. It held its own, even with the glugs of oil. The oil, the oil.

DSC_1346

First best dish of the lot award goes to this baby. Saganaki with figs. At 18 bucks, this was full-on gold. Looks are deceiving. The richness cannot be doubted, and was perfect for sharing between the 3 of us. Translation? Alright. Kefalotiri Psito with fig sauce.

Um. Yes. Basically, fried cheese with the sweetest, stickiest, most deliciously cloying fig sauce. I love figs. And so should you. The sharp twang of cheese did well in making you feel better about the sugary bath it was lounging around in. The tender cheese, a ledge of yellow goodness, was really a treat.

DSC_1347 DSC_1349

Grilled sea bream. Squeeze of lemon, squeeze of hope, knowing my wretched, impenetrable love for fish. More specifically, fish head. I took that bit and that bit only. Left the rest to the boys. I can handle the rest. The was a sauce to drizzle everything with, though I didn’t see the need, as the excess olive oil distracted from the fresh grilled flavour and rustic charm of skin, flesh and innards. Naked was the way to go.

DSC_1350

Bougatsa- filo and semolina cream rolls. The pastry was not as sweet as I expected, which was surprisingly pleasant when juxtaposed with the semolina cream, which filled up each nook of the pastry in the most rigid possible way. Firm and sturdy, not frigid and flowing, like how it sort of played out in my head. The cinnamon was a nice touch, but I think a cold inside, no matter how un-traditional, would have been dearly appreciated. Something cold and cream-like in texture would be preferable. Perhaps warm desserts aren’t my groove this time of night, especially after a 5-days dose of olive oil.

Rating: 4.0/5

Blu Kouzina

893 Bukit Timah Road

6875 0872

Kuriya Dining

Quality, check.

Service, check.

The best kampachi fish head? Well so far, check.

DSC_1311 DSC_1316 DSC_1324

top: udon noodle soup and sashimi platter. The udon soup is pleasantly fragrant, tasteful (one might expect at least a small degree of blandness, but all is not lost here) and delicate on the tongue. The noodles themselves have a good hold. And that sashimi is wonderfully fresh, the ice cradling all its sea-esque glory and purity.

DSC_1328 DSC_1332

You see it, I see it. Kampachi fish head. Topped off with a half portion of unagi rice. I shared the fish head with my lovely grandfather, the only other person I know who enjoys it as much as me, eyes, brain, guts, pectin, cartilage and all. You can see his hand peeking at the top there, I love him so. Thankfully, he was nice enough that night to give me the eyes. Believe me you, these small things put me on top of the world. The fish was grilled to absolute perfection, and with the radish, a little soy and wasabi, made for the king of all fish heads. There was a certain essence to the head, a certain pizzaz which I haven’t found anywhere else before. The quality flabbergasting, taste, impeccable. As for the unagi, the two fat strips sitting before me dazzled me with their top-notch shine and plumpness. One bite seemed to refute the rice, which seemed so unnecessary in the savouring of the sea-fresh, teriyaki-glazed unagi. Softly sweet, boneless, fat eel to put you on a high.

DSC_1336 DSC_1338

Fresh, reliable Japanese fine dining. Yes. I repeat, that fish head.

Rating: 4.8/5

Kuriya Japanese Dining

1 Kim Seng Promenade, Great World City

Brûléed French Toast

DSC_1303 DSC_1304

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.

DSC_1305

So. If you would.

Food for Thought (Botanical Gardens)

DSC_1274 DSC_1275 DSC_1276 DSC_1277

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.

DSC_1278 DSC_1279 DSC_1281

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

Trattoria L’Operetta

DSC_1167 DSC_1170 DSC_1173

You know, it’s said they have the best pizza in Singapore.

I recollected my memories of Peperoni, that one red-walled, kid-friendly placed we used to frequent every couple of weeks for the paper tables and crusty, cheesy goodness of fresh pizza. How would this compare? My memories were insufficient, and in the end, i didn’t even order pizza. What’s wrong with you Alex. Prithee, reader, hear me out. There was a man at the front, tossing the crusts from board to plate, wafts of steam rising from the pockets between bounteous toppings. And yet, I noticed there was something a little off.

DSC_1189 DSC_1175

Atop, we have the classic Margherita. Below, their version of an oyster omelette, coupled with thousand island dressing.

‘Soggy’, remarked my mother. Soggy! Lord! And so my friends, that is how I ended up not bothering with the slicing and biting. I just couldn’t. The omelette was decent, but I noticed that they repeated dish components without a healthy conscience. The same dressing was used for the fried calamari, which you should be grateful isn’t pictured, as it was a disastrous mess of separating, soggy batter and putrid little rubber rings approximately a millimetre wide. The poor squids, without their decent spa treatment. The flavours hung like stale fog in my mouth.

DSC_1184 DSC_1190 DSC_1194 DSC_1196

Top to bottom: scallop starter, squid ink spaghettini starter, penne arrabbiata.

The first two are part of a menu degustation which my father predictably ordered, given his larger-than-life appetite. The starter was underwhelming in flavour, but I sing praise for the squid ink follow-up. The clumpy cheese choked the minuscule bites of scallop to death, whilst the pasta was delicate and aromatic.

Now for that penne, some of which I stole from my sister. In my opinion, it beat everything else. Without a doubt. Up there. The al dente pasta boasted homemade earthiness, ridges catching all that rich, sweet and sharp sauce, imbued with a calmly spice, simmering with chunks of reduced tomato and herb. That penne was perfect, though if anything, they should reduce the amount of sauce to perfectly complement the penne’s loveliness.

DSC_1201 DSC_1204

Their fresh ‘fish of the day’, which was the sort of portion you would look at and go ‘hmph, alright, $25 it is then. But never again.’ Why? I could cry trying to recount this painful experience once more. Because. This beautiful fish arrived almost an entire hour after everything else was served. My mood was sunken, my eyes watery, my hands ready to rise in exasperation to the Gods. Not even those rustic grill marks could compensate for the cardinal sin. The grilled vegetables were sweet and caramelised, but doused in too much olive oil. The fish was flavourful, though humbug plain if it weren’t served with two types of salt and tomato paste, which was also too oily.

DSC_1203 DSC_1206

You can tell the first is a steak, but I should like you to zoom in on the second shot. Behold the duck breast with fruit reduction sauce and caramelised root vegetables, alongside the same (you see the repetition?) clump of al dente meditarranean-style mixed black rice. May I say this was twice as good as my fish. Flushed and tender, good sear along the side, with the sprightly, slightly gummy sauce basking in the bonhomous nature of the burgundy bed it inhabited. This and the penne were the star dishes that night.

DSC_1215

Sea salt caramel and almond ice cream from the Ice Cream Gallery afterwards, starring my sister’s lovely pins. I think it beats the earl grey and fig flavour, which possessed no roundness or depth. This.

This.

Rating: 2.9/5

Trattoria L’Operetta

224 Tanjong Katong Road