The Thickest, Fluffiest Pancakes You Will Make

‘A happy man has no past, whilst an unhappy man has nothing else.”

This is but one of the few memorable quotes I came across in my latest favourite read– The Narrow Road To the Deep North by Richard Flanagan, which won the Man Booker Prize last year. You know those books which leave you craving for more and more after each chapter, and the flipping action is speedy and excited? Yeah, this is one of them. War and Love are classic, usually overlapping literary themes, and Flanagan expertly weaves the two with arousing and intimate prose. Sometimes, I forget how mind-altering and rejuvenating fiction can be. It awakens, stirs something much deeper in the human soul.

Something else pretty mind-altering are…. These pancakes.

These, dear reader! By far the thickest, fluffiest ones I have ever made, and I sure as hell have made a lot of pancakes. Alright, before I proceed, I do wish to address the fact that I missed last week’s second post. Truth was that an unexpected outing stole the day’s limelight, and I hadn’t the time to do a write-up since then. Hopefully, this lazy-sunday-morning-recipe will make up for that. Goodness I’m excited, because trust me, they’re worth it. Definitely worth skipping a café line for.

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Now it’s your turn.

Thick, ridiculous, sweet and slightly spongy. I feel as if a drab ‘fluffy’ will take the fun out of this adjective scrambling, but heck, they are. Unbelievably fluffy, light, soft. A slightly lighter version of the Mickey Dees stuff. You get the jam.

I’ve tried these twice– once with almond butter and maple syrup, the other time as if I were at a traditional American diner, with butter, maple syrup, and a whole lot of family.

Can I have them with anything? So fluffy I could die!! My sisters chimed and beamed and scarfed down two each in less the time it takes for me to politely do a knife-and-fork job with one.

Since these freeze so well, I kept a couple stashed away. When I went to look for them the next morning, they were gone. I don’t blame them.

Honey and buttermilk provide an extra layer of moisture without added weight. The first two I made received a little extra char (as you can see above!!) because I was fiddling with the toppings and wasn’t paying as much attention to the stove, but the dark, crusty edges played a good texture game with the warm, melting butter and maple syrup later on. Mmmmm. Happy mistakes. And look at how thick these guys are. I kid you not, each pancake is at least an inch thick. Tender fluff. Pillow fluff. Press on a hot one and you’ll leave a finger mark that disappears almost immediately.

Vanilla Bean Buttermilk Pancakes (serves 4-5, makes around 11-12 medium pancakes)

*vegan substitution

Ingredients

188g all-purpose flour

3 tbsp white sugar

generous pinch of salt

1 tsp baking powder

1 tsp baking soda

1 egg (*one banana)

40 unsalted butter (slightly less than 4 tbsp, *vegan butter)

1 tsp vanilla extract or the insides of half a plump vanilla bean (or a skinny meek one)

240ml whole milk/ buttermilk; use store-bought or make your own by mixing 230ml whole milk with 1 tbsp white vinegar, and let the mixture sit for 5 minutes before using (*almond milk or any other plant-based milk)

Directions

In a large bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients (flour, sugar, salt and leavening agents). In a small microwave-safe bowl, melt the butter in a microwave and set it aside, letting it cool. In another medium bowl, whisk together the egg, buttermilk, vanilla (or insides of a vanilla bean) and melted butter. Pour the wet mix into the dry mix and mix briefly with a wooden spoon or a normal dinner spoon. Continue to mix until everything is justt combined, which means there will still be a few lumps, but no more streaks of flour. The batter will be thick and somewhat lumpy.

Preheat your pan on medium heat and ready some butter. You know the pan is hot enough when you flick a little water onto its surface and there’s a clear sizzle. At that point, generously butter the pan and ladle tablespoonfuls of batter. I didn’t have to wait for bubbles to pop before flipping; the batter is thicker than usual and there’s no need to wait. Flip the pancakes when you notice the edges stiffening a little, or when you can slide your spatula whole underneath the bottom of the pancake. It will rise a little upon flipping, as if that action gives it life, and hence, breath. The surface should have a brown mosaic thanks to the hot butter. Once the second side is done (will take no more than 20 seconds), let cool on a paper towel. As mentioned above, these freeze wonderfully, so you can make a whole batch, have a small stack and stash the rest in a ziploc bag in the freezer. Easy!

Serve with butter and maple syrup, or whatever you want. I particularly like them with banana, its moist sweetness adjoining arms with the maple. What a Sunday.

Naked Moist Chocolate Cake with Salted Caramel Creme Fraiche Frosting

Thunder now. I’m loving the endless precipitation in this otherwise stifling furnace. When trivialities seem to take hold of life, there are always certain important people to bring me back down to Earth, and there’s, well, cake. Hey, childhood fancies, it’s been a while. Processed with VSCOcam with f2 preset Processed with VSCOcam with f2 preset I think it only de rigueur to celebrate a special occasion with something a little more elaborate. ‘F’ and ‘L’ are the initials of someone pretty damn special in my life, and special people deserve something a little more elaborate, more celebratory, more.. regal if a little rustic. Chocolate and salted caramel has been done before, tried and tested, stamped with approval, signed off in girlish curlicues. But I daresay this endeavour is a bit more wild, and not quite so predictable in taste and texture with the addition of crushed meringue and lavish drizzles of homemade salted caramel. The waterfall effect of the buttercream frosting does a bit of justice to the ‘naked’ cake; I here term it as such because the ridges and painfully thin outer layer of frosting allow the bottom halves of each chocolate cake layer to be seen, for a subtle gradient effect, the salted caramel running slowly between the ridges, cutting through the purposeful flaw. Mimicking the movement of pale frosting. Godspeed. Processed with VSCOcam with f2 preset Processed with VSCOcam with f2 preset If you are wondering why the two pictures above look a mess, I’d gladly point the finger at that solo stack of plates. An unfinished crumb coat was almost completely wrecked when the stack of three layers, frosting in tact between each, toppled over and collided into the side of the stack. But this cake held its own, unflinching. Sometimes, failures or mishaps really do prove someone, or something’s worth. Despite the delicate moisture of the cake, its sweet and slightly bouncy crumb, the collision underscored a hidden robustness, making me hold this cake in the highest regard. It deserved to be treated right, after not letting me down. Processed with VSCOcam with f2 preset Processed with VSCOcam with f2 preset Processed with VSCOcam with f2 preset This amalgamation of flavours imparts subtle, simple decadence. The chocolate cake of our childhoods is wrapped with the familiar indulgence of sweet and salty caramel, with a bit of zip thanks to a squeeze of lemon and fresh Maldon. The first time I tried the cake with all its components, I did think the salted caramel crème fraîche frosting lacked oopmph, my tongue betraying the anticipation of a more sophisticated flavour profile. Hence, I did a mini batch of frosting after this cake was made, altering the salt and creme fraiche content to taste. In all honesty, a slice of this stuff is good warm or cold, and can be stored for at least a week in a fridge, or a couple of days at room temperature. And finally, I really don’t know what could possibly beat fresh, homemade salted caramel…? Moist Chocolate Cake With A Salted Caramel Creme Fraiche Frosting (makes a three-layer, 8-inch wide cake) For the cake: (cake recipe adapted from here) 300g (3 cups) cake flour, or all-purpose flour if you don’t have cake flour on hand 300g (3 cups) white caster sugar 150g (1 1/4 cups) cocoa powder 3 tsp baking soda half tsp of fine salt 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder 380ml (around 1 1/2 cups) buttermilk 180ml vegetable oil 3 eggs at room temperature 2 tbsp vanilla extract 1 1/2 cups (370ml) freshly brewed coffee For the salted caramel frosting: 340g salted butter 4 tbsp créme fraiche 980g powdered sugar 180ml (slightly less than 3/4 of a cup) of salted caramel (ingredients for this down below) For the salted caramel (recipe adapted from personal trials): 1 tbsp light corn syrup 5 tbsp (75ml) water 1 tsp vanilla 125ml (around half a cup) of heavy cream 110g (1/2 cup) white sugar juice of half a lemon (approximately a teaspoon) 1 tsp fine sea salt Preheat the oven to 177C (350F) and line three 8-inch circular cake pans with parchment paper (trace around each pan with pencil on the parchment paper and then cut out neatly). Spray the bottoms of the pan before laying on each piece of parchment, and then spray lightly again. Set these pans aside. In the large bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, sift in the dry ingredients– cocoa powder, flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Stir on low speed until combined. The same can be done with just a large bowl and a whisk if you don’t have an electric mixer. In a separate medium bowl, whisk together the buttermilk, oil, vanilla and eggs. Stir in the fresh coffee. With the mixer on low speed (or without a mixer), add the wet mixture into the dry. Use a spatula to scrape down the sides of your bowl and make sure everything is well combined. The batter should be sticky, dark, glossy and liquidy. In fact, the wetter, the better. If your bowl of batter looks too dry, or drops off the back of your spoon or paddle too slowly (it shouldn’t really ‘drop’ at all, really), add at least 2 tablespoons of milk. Drop each pan on your counter to knock out excess air bubbles. Use a weighing scale to ensure there’s an equal amount of batter in each pan. For this recipe, there was around 750g of lush chocolate batter in each pan, and each layer is rather thick. Place the pans in the oven (you can place 2 in first if your oven can’t fit three, which is usually the case, and then pop the last one in afterwards). Bake for 35-40 minutes, before removing from the oven and let cool on wire racks. Mine took 36 minutes, and a wooden skewer inserted into the centre of the pan should come out dry, with a few moist crumbs clinging to the very tip. While the cakes bake, make the salted caramel. Put the corn syrup, water and sugar in a saucepan and place over medium heat. Stir together with a wooden spoon and let the mixture come to boil. In a separate medium bowl, mix together the lemon juice (add less if you like your salted caramel less ‘lemony’), vanilla and cream. Once the mixture in the pan comes to a boil, stop stirring (to prevent crystallisation) and let boil for a while. This will take at least 5 minutes or so. If it looks like one part of the pan is turning darker faster than the other parts, then gently swirl the pan to distribute the heat and quicken the chemical reaction. Slowly, the sugars will all caramelise and the whole mixture will suddenly turn a dark amber. At this point, turn off the heat and add the cream mixture. Stir in the salt to taste. The mixture will bubble almost immediately, before lightening and turning a lighter caramel shade. If the mixture seizes, don’t fret!! Simply put the pan back on a low heat and stir until everything amalgamates nicely again, which will take 2-3 minutes. All is good, all is good. Make the buttercream. In an electrical or handheld mixer, beat the salted butter, which should be slightly cold but not too frigid, and the créme fraiche, until pale, creamy and fluffy. Sift in the icing sugar in thirds, and beat well to combine. Add half a cup of salted caramel (125ml, or slightly more, all to taste)  and beat briefly to distribute the caramel’s colour and flavour. The buttercream should be smooth and not too runny, so I suggest adding the salted caramel bit by bit to get the right consistency. Once the cakes are cool, assemble. Remove the circular pieces of parchment from the bottoms of the cooled cakes, and place one in the middle of a cake stand. Using a third-cup measurement, measure out a third of a cup of buttercream and spread onto the first layer. Place a little more on top if the layer of frosting doesn’t look thick enough. Place the second layer on the first, and do the same. Repeat with the third layer, but this time, spread more buttercream down along the breadth of the cake, creating a thin crumb coat to catch any excess crumbs. Let the whole cake set in the fridge with the crumb coat for at least a couple of hours, or overnight. After this period, use more buttercream to cover up any obvious bits of brown on the outside. Use the blunt edge of a butter knife to create the ridged, naked, waterfall effect, going from the bottom up. It’s much easier than how it might read here, I promise! In any case, the decoration is entirely up to you. Once you have run the butter knife up along the sides for the entire circumference of the cake, do the same for the top, but direct the butter knife movement towards the centre, so you get the ‘wheel’ effect, as can be seen in the third last photo above. Drizzle the top with leftover salted caramel and, if you wish, crumbled biscuits of meringue.

Ultimate Mango Almond Smoothie

Skepticism hits hard when I see ‘best’ and ‘ultimate’ and ‘crazy-good-scrumptious’. Really? How good does good have to be before the ultimate (haha) mainstream adjective succumbs to usage?

…Well, I guess it’s just that good then.

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There’s not much to it, yet there’s everything to it.

One simple base recipe accompanied by a myriad very suitable toppings, some of which you may feel free to leave out. It’s a quickie-breakfast-morning kind of thing, the best excuse to chuck a couple of things into your blender and emerge from the kitchen triumphant. No sweat. I’ll keep this one short and sweet, so you can indulge in something short and sweet, yes?

Mango Almond Smoothie (serves 1)

Ingredients

half a frozen banana

160g frozen mango

60ml almond milk (or any milk of choice)

one tablespoon almond butter (or any nut butter)

In a blender, blend the above listed ingredients. Top with creme fraiche, frozen raspberries, more almond butter, and, in my case, granola and matcha powder (!!) That part is unorthodox and optional, but if you have those lying around, then give it a shot. The bitter and fragrant powder elevates the sophistication of this otherwise simple (and obviously healthy) breakfast. Or leave it out!

Banana and Raspberry Stuffed Buttermilk French Toast

Lately I’ve been intrigued by a few things.

– Plexin D1, a gene which plays a part in body fat distribution. Apple? Pear? Somewhere in between? This may be the reason why. Scientists carried out their experiments on zebrafish, and those genetically engineered to lack the gene showed less abdominal (visceral) fat. Interestingly enough, humans with Type 2 diabetes have more Plexin D1. The beer belly syndrome is a highly underrated danger; those with more of a paunch have a much higher chance of contracting heart disease. Evidently, the implications of the exercise are pretty mammoth. The experiments were carried out on zebrafish because they have transparent bodies. Imagine being a zebrafish! That’s really taking the phrase ‘I can see right through you’ to the next level.

– The burning sensation you get when you hold a mouthful of coke on your tongue

– The Myers-Briggs test (ENTJ, anyone?)

– The fact that one can turn anything, anything into French toast.

Processed with VSCOcam with f2 presetI had the urge to make my favourite breakfast dish ever yesterday morning because my dear mom always returns home on the weekends after running errands with bags full of junk snacks (I’ll pass on a few) and fresh bread from the bakery (yes!!!). I was actually planning to make my own loaf, with some exotic fillings or less-touched flour type (hey, spelt or rye), but the chocolate swirl brioche was just screaming to be dunked in a lush, eggy bath, after being stuffed silly with fruit, and in the case of this particular morning, an almond butter cream. More on that a little later. It’s a pity I forgot to take a shot of this cream, but I guess imagination can right a wrong.

Processed with VSCOcam with f2 preset Processed with VSCOcam with f2 presetFruit combinations are always a problem for me; my relationship with these mature divine ovaries is like that between monkeys and bananas– any type and degree of ripeness works fine with me. I go with flow, peel a few random things and throw em together. It’s a fruity party here all the time. Yesterday morning, I grabbed half a banana and fresh raspberries which I bought to use a little later in the week, ignoring my initial plan to mix a bit of blue and gold, for I did acknowledge the existence of some frozen berries and mangoes the day before. Sometimes, things demand spontaneity. The sweet banana of medium ripeness played up the pleasant sourness of fresh raspberry, the aftertaste of flowers bursting like the dawn of summer in my mouth. The almond cream is definitely optional, but I love how it adds a earthy flavour component whilst binding the fruit and stodge together nicely on the inside, especially if the batter only penetrated the surface of day(s)-old bread. You get a wonderful, slightly gooey plate of eggy bread, moist and saturated all the way through.

Banana and Raspberry Stuffed Buttermilk French Toast (serves 1)

Ingredients

half a banana, sliced into coins

handful of fresh or frozen raspberries

one egg

knob of butter

splash of buttermilk and one tsp vanilla extract

1 thick slice (2 inches is perfect) of brioche/challah, can be 1-2 days old

*almond butter cream: mix together a tablespoon of almond butter and a teaspoon of almond milk (or any milk, really)

*optional

Preheat your pan on a medium heat, and ready some butter. In a shallow bowl, whisk together the egg, buttermilk and vanilla with a fork. Take your bread and, with a knife, cut a deep horizontal pocket into one of the the 4 2-inch sides of the french toast. You could cut your slice horizontally all the way so you end up with 2 thinner slices of bread to sandwich the filling, but I like the cute idea of a pocket holding everything in nicely together. Once you’ve cut a pocket, stuff the inside with the almond butter cream, then fill to the brim with the banana coins (you can mash the banana, if you wish, but I prefer cutting/biting into the gooey chunks) and raspberries.

Butter the pan and let it sizzle. The pan should be hot when you hold your hand a few inches above the surface of the pan. Dunk one side of the bread into the buttermilk-egg mixture and let the bread soak for 5-10 seconds. Flip and let the other side soak for a little while less. Lift the slice and let any excess batter drip off. Lay the slice on the hot pan and cook for 1-2 minutes. You should hear a sizzle once it hits the pan, else it’s not hot enough. Fret not. Simply wait a little while longer and take a peek at the doneness with your spatula. Once browned, flip and hear the sizzle once more.

To serve, place on a plate (may cut in half however which way you want, and this step is highly recommended for visual pleasure– watch that goo!), then top with whipped cream and maple syrup or honey.

Banana Oat Pancakes with Cashew Sauce (eggless, flourless, easy!)

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We are drowning in information, but starving for wisdom.

This was the heading for an article I read this morning, and although its meaning and intention had nothing to do with the thoughts that flickered through my head (the merits of a liberal arts education) upon first seeing the quote, there is definitely an implication that resonates with me. This is all a little random, but I do feel as if more should be shared on this space than just the occasional recipe or review. Heck, it’s why I love the Internet. Variety underpins sensory awareness, exposure, curiosity. One reason why I love blogging about food is because I don’t see the stuff as merely something to eat, but as complex edible objects which hide more abstract, profound meanings, relevant to little aspects of our everyday lives. I remember to take things a little slowly when spreading soft, salted butter on my toast, the pale creaminess reassuring. A sticky, sweet medjool date makes me lose myself just for a second. Pause. Ponder. It sounds silly, I know. Is it just me?

Information, and so much of it, is the nexus of the 21st century. But though it’s everywhere, in the form of the news or the hippest TV series or the next best recipe (oh, just you wait), wisdom is rare. It may be argued that the accumulation of knowledge naturally leads to this to this point of discernment and judgement. I like to think of it as a meal: the info is the appetiser, the formulation of opinion or analytical discussion comprise the main course. The dessert, further debate, perhaps division or (!) discovery. But the intriguing bit lies in the waiting time between appetiser and main course. Our information thresholds, where we draw the line between absorption of the world around us and internal debate. I like that thought; it’s interesting to consider just how different our thought processes are. As we prowl possibility, awaken a hidden psyche. That is what leads to understanding and progression. I’m guilty of being a robot sometimes, to squander away time doing meaningless activity, to have stuff go in one ear and come out the other. I mean hey, it’s ok to be a vegetable! It is, sometimes. I just think it more necessary in this current day and age to be that much more perceptive, instead of gulping air, nodding, regurgitating.

Processed with VSCOcam with f2 presetI shall now introduce you to my new favourite pancake recipe: Eggless, flourless, practically everything-less (vegan readers, you there?) banana oat pancakes, with a decadent cashew sauce. I should like to clarify the name of the sauce here; I say cashew because I’m currently going through a serious, unrelenting vanilla cashew butter phase, and the cashew butter is the primary component of the sauce, but really you can use any nut butter you have lying around. It is the tang of this sauce, thanks to the yoghurt, coupled with the naturally sweet, earthy nature of these glorious pancakes, and milkier aftertaste of the cashews, which makes it the most divine breakfast for days on end.

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I like making normal pancakes, I do. You know, with actual flour, eggs, the whole motley crew. They’re easy easy easy, and the recipe is just standard stuff after a few goes.

But these. These! I couldn’t believe how sweet, fluffy and flavourful these pancakes turned out to be! When I first starting experimenting with healthy, or at least healthier ingredients, I was incredibly skeptical of the turnout. They would never taste or look as good, I bet on my life, I always thought. I associated things like wheatgrass and acai and oat flour with the life of a poor rabbit. How wrong I was. How terribly wrong. The ripe banana here makes these naturally, not overly sweet, and if you are inclined to leave a few chunks in the batter then you get nice pockets of cooked, sweet banana in your breakfast. The oat flour makes it all folksy, almost cultured, and using it for the first time in pancakes brought to mind thatched countryside roofs and battered wheat and yoga. It brought me down to earth, and it always feels good to treat my body well, to give the french toast and white/fancy breads a break.

Banana Oat Pancakes with Cashew Sauce (makes 5 4-inch wide pancakes)

For the pancakes:

2 small or 1.5 medium bananas, the riper the better

1 tbsp vanilla extract

2 tbsp yoghurt (or sour cream)

4 tbsp almond milk (or any milk of choice)

1 tbsp coconut oil (or vegetable oil, or melted butter)

60g oat flour (I ground 60g rolled oats in a blender, so there’s really no need to buy oat flour. It takes a mere couple of minutes to grind em up into a fine flour.)

1.5 tsp baking powder

pinch of salt

For the sauce:

1 tablespoon cashew butter (or any nut butter of choice)

1 tbsp yoghurt

1 tsp honey (or maple syrup)

Preheat a pan on medium heat. In a medium bowl, whisk together the oat flour, salt and baking powder. In another medium bowl, mash the bananas, then mix in the remaining wet ingredients. Pour the dry ingredients into the wet mix, and use a large spoon or spatula to slowly incorporate everything until just combined.

Drizzle a little coconut or vegetable oil to the preheated pan, and, using a tablespoon, ladle on enough batter to make a circle around 4 inches wide. This part is completely up to you; make them as big or as small as you want. Cook the first side for around 2 minutes/ You’ll notice the edges firming up and turning a slightly darker colour than the middle, and that’s when you should take a spatula and slide it under the whole pancake in preparation to flip. If it shakes or wobbles too much on top, let it cook for a while longer. After flipping, cook the second side for around 30 seconds, for the pancake itself is already mostly cooked by this point. Let the cooked pancakes rest on a paper towel while you finish up the rest of the batter, or in an oven preheated to 160C if you wish to consume everything immediately.

Make the sauce! In a small bowl, mix the 3 ingredients listed above. The consistency should be on the thicker side, but not gloopy and unmanageable. To serve, stack a few pancakes on top of each other, top with the nut butter sauce and fresh fruit. The pancakes are naturally very sweet so I don’t think maple syrup or honey necessary, but go ahead if you feel like it. Pancake eaters do what instinct tells em to.

These pancakes freeze very well. After cooking and letting rest on a paper towel for around 5 minutes, transfer those which you’re not eating immediately into a ziploc bag, laying them in a single flat layer. Pop in the freezer, and whenever you’re in the pancake mood, take however many you want out and microwave on high for 2 minutes.