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.

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.

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.

Posted on January 22, 2015February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 6

Whole ricotta pancakes (and more babbling)

I have the worst love-hate relationship with social media.

One question: If you’re tweeting about some fabulous party you’re at, are you really having fun there? I don’t know about you, but I imagine someone standing in the corner, desperately trying to capture every moment of the fab food and lights and music, totally losing the purpose of socialising in the process. Pick at the food, dance a little, then back to the phone. Phone phone phone. Tumblr, Facebook, Twitter and Instagram are everyone’s best friends. Let me clarify: no, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. I’m guilty of it, and so are many people in this day and age. In fact, I’m pretty sure I can go as far as to say that social media defines the 21st century. That, and obesity. Social media helps me stay in contact with my closest friends and is the perfect means to capture totally retarded moments on the spur. It’s funny, casual, fun, and I love it.

That being said, maybe ignorance is truly bliss? The light that illuminates a certain special occasion, a certain personal, intangible factor, is lost in the process of uploading everything real-time to the infinite cloud of technology. It’s so sad to visit restaurants and see parents barely looking up to talk to their children. The kids fiddle with their bolognese, look around, fold the corners of the posh napkins. Parents. Noses to phone, eyes to screens.. hmm, maybe look up to swallow that tiny starter, but soon after it’s always back to the frantic typing, the ‘This is work, dear’, the hair twirling and silent airs. Or when I see friends together and neither of them actually… Talk. I remember having my grandparents take my sister and I out when we were younger than the malleable age of 12, and oh goodness, the stuff we talked about! No screen distractions or clouding of words. Just good food, great conversation, and buckets of love and laughter. I, for one, am sometimes guilty of being that annoying phone addict (though I only recently got Snapchat and am still slightly averse to the idea of Twitter). I can’t not take a picture of a great dish when I’m out. However, I recently read an article on the dangers of social media and found it highly intriguing. Two people attempted to totally rid themselves of any form of social media for at least a week, and the result was basically that they reached a new state of being, almost approaching that of enlightenment, having sought and found freedom from the perils of pleasing others with their shiny self profiles. It’s true, isn’t it? Who would post a picture of daily family fights, of aspects of pain or severe depression? Social media really doesn’t reveal one’s true self, nor does it guarantee you a solid network of friends you can always reach out to. I have my close friends, here and (one) overseas, and love how all these platforms help me stay in touch. I realised this fact a while ago, but I felt the point was expertly reinforced in the said article, illuminating how people today define and appreciate relationships.

I’ll start off with Instagram. I joined the platform in 2012, as one of my nascent endeavours to be part of the more ‘normal’ scene, where I could assimilate into the teen crowd and actually be more engaged with my other tech-savvy friends. Instagram really was one of my first few steps; heck, I only got Facebook in 8th Grade. My love for food and baking grew, displayed for the world to see on this one platform. I love how Instagram served to reinforce this love and passion. I met so many wonderful people and reconnected with old buds. How perfect, how engaging… and yet, incredibly dangerous. Most people know me as the amateur food blogger with a few thousand followers on my account (I admit it’s nothing impressive). It started off as nothing, then I started to post what I baked or what I had for breakfast (stereotypical Asian foodie, I apologise). As I gained more followers, I felt the need to impress, the need to enhance my own streak of perfectionism. Is that so bad? In most cases, it’s not. Nothing’s wrong with wanting to improve yourself in a specific field, being spurred along by supportive friends. But after years of being acquainted with my alter ego alexcrumb, I now fully acknowledge the fact that all the likes and comments in the world will never, ever, be able to satisfy any sort of emptiness, or justify a certain passion for something. It really, really doesn’t. Social media is much too glittery and superficial for that. I developed a few of my own posting rules, and hope they continue to keep me on the less obsessive side of things. When I whip something up, I take a few pictures. Then, I put my phone down. Ha, it’s rather weird typing this out; feels like I’m listing rules when really it’s just part of normal routine now. Anyways, voila! That is how my food stays hot. Great perks. I just put the iPhone down and eat or continue a meal I’m having out. Doing this makes me feel so much better about living in general. Trying to attain the highest degree of aesthetic sense is one thing, living in the present is another. Down, phone, down. It’s only later on in the morning or day that I’ll put it through my favourite filter, then post it with some appropriate (or utterly irrelevant) caption. It’s all good fun, but that’s just about it. What’s the point in letting Instagram eat into the rest of my day, perusing, scrutinising other people’s profiles, when I can work, read or talk to people? Instagram is a public, picturesque diary, and I love the occasional snoop, but life would not be half as purposeful or meaningful without the chance to unplug and tune in to your thoughts. In my case, it’s writing a diary, but for some others, it could be drawing, painting or running. Nowadays when I’m out, I won’t necessarily snap everything I eat, or I’ll just take a sneaky few shots, because I know how annoying it must be for the chef to poach eggs and have someone stand like an utter idiot for half an hour just to get the perfect bird’s eye view of all the food on the table. Been there, done that. Too many photos and standing like a rigid scarecrow= cold eggs with hard middles. Who wants that? I’m learning, I’m learning.

So. Back to the recipe I want to share. I must, oh goodness I must. A bit non-sequitur, I know. Whole ricotta pancakes? So like… ricotta cakes? Almost, my friend. Pretty darn close. I came across this wonderful pancake variant on one of my favourite Instagram accounts @ingwervanille, and couldn’t believe the results I yielded whilst experimenting with one short recipe just a few days ago… love how it turned out so well. It is only very slightly adapted, with less flour and the addition of greek yoghurt. If anything represents ‘light as air’, except perhaps a gorgeous cheese soufflé, then this is it. Punctured throughout with gaping holes of air. Light, slightly sweet and tangy at the same time. Ricotta is very mild, but the hot pan, butter and addition of vanilla brought the existent flavour to life. They do take a little longer to cook than regular pancakes because the cheese has to cook through together with the egg, and there’s hardly any flour at all, but it’s worth it. They will turn out incredibly light, golden, with that pretty patched pattern on both (well at least on one) sides. Sometimes, heaven’s on your side.

Whole Ricotta Pancakes (for 2-3)

250g whole milk ricotta (usually one normal tub from the supermarket)

one teaspoon vanilla extract

one tablespoon greek yoghurt (optional, but helps the flavour)

one egg

2.5 tablespoons all-purpose flour

one teaspoon sugar

pinch of salt

Preferable toppings: greek yoghurt, fruit and honey/ butter and maple syrup/ squeeze of lemon, honey and frozen fruit/ nut butter and maple syrup/ the world is your oyster

Preheat your pan on medium heat. Mix all ingredients together, with the exception of the flour, in a medium bowl. This recipe can actually just be done with one bowl and a normal dinner spoon. Using a tablespoon, fold the flour in. If your batter looks too wet to work with, add another half tablespoon of flour. 2.5 tablespoons worked just fine for me, but adjust according to what you see. The batter should be pale and wet, with expected clumps of ricotta. It’s all good.

Butter your pan. Using the same spoon, dollop clumps of batter onto the pan. Make mini coins or large round ones. Whatever you fancy. Wait for bubbles to appear around the sides and in the middle. Once bubbles are visible in the middle, wait a little while longer, for at this point they are still pretty fragile. After around 4-5 minutes, check the underside. Yours might take a little shorter, so just check and see. Once you are able to slide your spatula under the whole underside of a pancake, do a quick flip and cook the other side. The other side takes much shorter to cook, around 1-2 minutes. Layer the pancakes on a kitchen towel to absorb excess grease or moisture, or just serve immediately on plates.

So good.

Posted on January 12, 2015February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 3

Frozen berry pudding (two options)

I never was one of those girls who have greek yoghurt and fruit (maybe honey, oh my!) for breakfast. Nah. I always needed something carby, or at least warm. The typical day starts with warm oats and tea. Hot on hot on hot… Yes, in this bloody hot weather. But (there’s always a but). I’ve recently experienced a health kick, and decided to experiment a little with all the frozen berry smoothies I’ve been seeing all over the internet. It’s always ‘frozen this’ and ‘frozen that’. The trend has seriously taken the world by storm, but I tweaked it just a little so one need not have to blend everything the morning of. Tired? Got work? Then try this. You may not be the greek yoghurt girl with logos strapped across her bottom, but nevertheless it’s worth a go.

It’s filling, nourishing, chock-full of antioxidants and vitamins. Creamy yet sharp, pseudo-lush yet clearly one of the most healthy things you can have in the morning. This would traditionally be called a smoothie/slushy/ice-cream variant, but I label it a pudding because that’s the word that jumped at me the moment I dug my spoon in the bowl the next morning. Thick, not quite the full-on pudding consistency, but still more pudding-like to me than anything. The chia seeds voluminised the entire body of fruit, so it almost seemed aerated. There are 2 options for this recipe: blend it all in the morning, or blend most the night before, mix in the chia and let sit in the fridge overnight. The second yields a more liquidy, pudding-like result, whilst the former is like ice cream’s sister. Outrageous.

Frozen berry pudding (for 1)

one cup frozen mixed berries

half frozen banana (you can pop in the chopped up banana in the freezer earlier in the day)

40ml milk of choice (I used my mum’s ridiculously thick and creamy almond milk)

pinch of salt

one teaspoon maca/acai/vanilla/cacao powder (optional)

one tablespoon chia seeds

Toppings: nut butters, sliced banana, honey, whatever your heart desires

Option 1: Blend everything except the toppings in a blender (I used a Vitamix) and serve yourself some morning ice-cream!

Option 2: Blend the first 5 ingredients in a blender, then dish out into a bowl. Mix the chia seeds throughly into the thick and cold mixture. The next morning, take the mix out of your fridge and top with whatever you like.

Posted on January 7, 2015February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 0

London, Emily, and a basic breakfast

8:58am, 1st January 2015. Holy mackerel.

I wrote up this blog post a serious while ago. So what happened? I could say something silly like ‘life’ and ‘work’, but really it just didn’t feel too right to talk about certain things so special and close to my heart, immediately after having experienced them. I’m talking about London. To say it was upsetting to come back after being there for just a week would be a tad bit of an understatement. I only lived there for a couple of years when I was little, but ever since then we’ve (the family) found ourselves going back again and again, our home away from home. And so I mourned a little, moped a little, a slug bobbing on the waves of sadness.

But I do miss blogging regularly, and one of my New Year’s resolutions is to start doing so again. 2014 was basically a big bad ball of craziness (IB, anyone?). University applications, last minute decisions, the waiting game, trepidation. Baking adventures, some of which were great but others, not too much. Books, family, friends. I was going to write up a recipe on chocolate banana cinnamon rolls, something I made for a close friend (Hi Ruru!) during her party, which was right after graduation. Wow, that does feel like a long time ago. But I think I’ll save that for another long and detailed post. Right now, on the 1st of January, I just feel like being all shloppy. Cue the reminiscing mode.

The highlight of London, apart from the food and meeting my close friends, was meeting someone I have never had the opportunity to meet in real life before. Ever. If you don’t know her, you’re missing out. Emily Tapp, this one’s for you!

I know I know, I look like a pig’s bum next to her. I do love how we’re both wearing grey sweaters, though. Em is the girl I’ve been writing to for over a year now, which is just crazy to think about. A gorgeous one, don’t you think? Not to mention her drool-worthy blog cortadochronicles, which is full of the most outstanding vegan recipes. Her photography is sublime. It all started after Christmas of 2013, when she commented on my handwriting. All of a sudden, I was thrust into one of the most priceless relationships. Despite some air mail mishaps (I’m actually laughing now), we pushed through and continued to send letter after letter. I doted on each one. We always meant to see each other in real life, but to be honest, a little part of me was afraid that this would never really happen, like wishing for a vintage Mercedes on Christmas. It could happen, it just might, but what are the chances?

But it happened, and I still can’t believe it did. I remember stumbling into Kopapa, the brunch place we agreed to meet at, late that morning. Gosh, I remember every single detail it’s scary. Would she think me weird? People always think I speak a little weirdly, with the mixed wishy washy accent. Also, my hair felt incredibly dry. My left eye was swollen, and I was fiddling with it the whole time. Ooh, don’t get me started on my reptile skin. It’s like it thrives on humidity, so much so that it’s still dry here in Singapore. Did I look human? I wasn’t there long before she came, all perfectly primped and blonde and smiling. An angel with sparkling eyes. It was so weird; all the worries I was preoccupied with 10 seconds ago just vanished. Who was I kidding– why was I even scared? She wasn’t (and isn’t) a stranger to me. She’s Emily, the girl I’ve been writing to for the longest time. It’s like I’ve seen her before, anyway. I’ve always had a picture of her in my head when I write, and it was surprising to see it come to life, but the long and short of it is that all those letters which connected us, two girls thousands of miles apart, made me feel comfortable. At home. Happy. It wasn’t in the least bit weird. Getting lost in conversation over poached eggs (she had avocado toast which looked ridiculous) and flat whites was really the best thing ever. We wandered around Covent Gardens, then took the Tube to Borough Market where we drooled over everything and made quite a few stunning purchases. Thanks to Miss Em, I convinced myself to buy the most gorgeous honey drizzle and a wooden plating board from Borough Kitchen (see below). Before I had to leave, we hugged three times. It definitely wasn’t enough. We did so much in one day, and I had so much fun. I can’t wait to eat and shop together again some time in the future! Ah, the future. Em and I have an art cafe planned. I can see it all already, and I’m starry-eyed.

In my second or third letter to Emily, I told her that one of my favourite foods ever is French toast. A few days ago, I made it out of habit. Before I dished out the goods on a plate, I decided to change it up a little and put it into a bowl, all dressed with a myriad of toppings, drowned in syrup and milk. It was a pretty revelation. I call it the French Toast Bowl. But be warned. Those averse to sogginess should skip this recipe! I’m the sort who fawns over soggy cereal, so…

French Toast Bowl (serves 1)

Make your french toast as how you would usually do. Use fresh or day-old bread (I used a soft walnut raisin loaf here). So go ahead! Cut the bread thick enough so that the inside is still a little gooey after cooking. That’s my favourite bit, really. Whisk together one egg, a splash of almond milk, vanilla extract in a shallow dish. Take two slices of the bread and dunk into the mixture for a good few seconds on each side. I have a good recipe for vegan french toast, which you can find here. Fry with a good pat of butter on a pan preheated on medium-high heat. The sides take 2 minutes and a minute respectively. The slices should turn golden and tender, and the middle soft to the touch. Once done, cut into pieces, as large or small as you like.

Dish out your french toast into a bowl. Top with whatever you want– I used maple syrup, banana coins, sea salt caramel and homemade maple peanut butter. I think nut butter is a must. Then comes the best bit– the milk! Take that carton and do the Splash. Drench your little french toast cubes in cold milk. After a while, the pieces will go all soggy and delicious. Mixed with the syrup/honey and nut butter, it makes for a wonderfully sweet and satisfying breakfast. It’s like oatmeal, except you actually get to chew the stuff this time.

Posted on January 1, 2015February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 0

Eggless French Toast

Well here’s to the longest hiatus ever, everyone! I have finally emerged from underneath the suffocating mounds of work. Free from an aching heart, mind and soul. It’s ridiculously liberating, and what better way to celebrate than a long-awaited post? It feels weird to have the time to do things like this, but I guess I better get used to it. I’ll be keeping more updated on comments, questions and posts. There’s just no excuse this time. This one’s a short recipe, nothing grandiloquent. But. This french toast is special to me because I’ve been using it quite frequently for the past 3 years or so, after modifying it myself from various sources. I only recently realised that it’s never been properly shared with anyone. It’s basically a vegan french toast recipe, with my own twist on a basic formula of mashed banana and milk. The quirk? The kind twang of yoghurt and a burst of cinnamon. Simple, fresh, wholesome. Its just french toast, but the glorious main star of the batter, mashed banana, makes for the most wonderful naturally sweet exterior. It yields a caramelised banana crust, almost with a charred taste and texture, depending on how ‘done’ you want the final result to be. Who am I kidding, it’s just french toast. But I must talk about it, before I forget tomorrow, and probably the day after. My french toast. The toppings are totally subjective. In the picture above, I used maple syrup, fruit and my mum’s homemade pistachio butter, which goes superbly with most everything you can think of. Breakfast foods, at that. Butter and maple syrup or honey would work a peach. Keep in mind that you don’t need too much sweetener thanks to the natural sweetness of the bananas. A caramelised golden banana coat to keep the inside warm and fluffy. The same goes for having it straight-up plain. Or why not make it a glorious peanut butter and jelly-stuffed sandwich. Maybe some chocolate spread and melted marshmallows. I might be taking it a bit too far here. Just, you know, some ideas. And if you have some ice cream…

Eggless French Toast For One

Preheat your pan on medium-high heat. Take two slices (or three, if you wish) of soft bread of your choice, such as buttery brioche or, unsalted butter from the fridge to let it warm up a little. Take half a banana (ripe if you’re lucky) and mash it up with a fork. Add a good splash of whatever milk (quarter cup, or 59ml) you want and mix that in well. My favourite is my mum’s gorgeous homemade almond milk– all thick, creamy and rich. Whole milk will work beautifully as well. The texture should be thick, much thicker than your typical liquidy french toast batter, and little chunks of banana are fine. Add a tablespoon of yoghurt, a squeeze of honey or any sweetener you desire, and a dash of cinnamon. Mix mix mix. Just one fork, a shallow dish and a handful of ingredients. No mess, no fuss. Take a good knob of butter (around a tablespoon) and let that sizzle on the pan. Drench both sides your slices, one by one, in the thick mixture. A little excess is fine– it actually makes for a better crust. Place slices on the preheated, buttered griddle or pan and let cook for around 2-3 minutes on each side. Have a quick peek underneath if you’re not sure, because every pan and fire is different. It should be golden, with little smears and streaks of brown, and incredibly fragrant. Once one side is done, flip using a spatula. It should take around half a minute less to cook this side. For more people, simply multiply the proportions of each ingredient appropriately.

Posted on November 30, 2014February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 3

alexcrumb

recipes, catering, creativity