Salted Caramel Apple Cheesecake

Because I actually cannot believe this is a (mostly) improvised, pseudo-original recipe. Honestly, it’s pretty glorious. Ok fine, if that’s a little too much undeserved self-praise, I guess I’ll just say that darn, I’m one enlightened cake-maker. A mixing of some fine ingredients, a thrusting of good pink ladies on the top, a sudden decision to say…

YES, I really do think salted caramel will go nicely with that.

Off the whim, all too sudden. Yesterday was the due date for the IB’s Extended Essay, so I feel it very fitting to celebrate with this recipe. It was a short return to my childhood of tree-climbing and grazed knees, after which I’d come home to find a well-sized slice of cheesecake my mother or grandmother bought from some gourmet store, which I enjoyed anyway because… cheesecake. I never found the rich tang displeasing as a kid; it was one of the few sorts of cakes I didn’t mind having at birthday parties. The flimsy, airy stuff never fascinated me. I lusted after half-cloying goop. I admit that this batch actually could have used twice as much salt in the caramel topping to counter the lemony, apple-y sweetness of the cheesecake, so I’ll put the better amount in for your benefit.

And with that, let’s go.

Ingredients

For the base:

1 cup flour
1 egg yolk
1/4 cup light brown sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup (113g) softened, unsalted butter. Good butter, please.

For the filling and apple top:

2 packages Philadelphia cream cheese, left to soften at room temperature (this would take at least a good half hour)
1/2 cup white castor sugar
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/4 cup sour cream (or Greek yoghurt, which was what I used since I didn’t have sour cream on hand)
1 1/2 tablespoons vanilla extract
3 eggs

For apple topping:

2 small pink lady apples, or any sort which you enjoy eating on its own. Grab a green one if that’s all you have; doesn’t change the final product a whole lot. It actually depends how much of a flamboyant apple character you want your cake to have– the more the merrier, though I find thin layers atop the filling work well to even out the caramelisation process during baking.
1/3 cup white sugar
one teaspoon ground cinnamon

For the divine gift of God that is salted caramel (makes a medium batch so it may be used in the future):

1 cup white sugar
95g salted (!!) butter
3 teaspoons fine salt
1/2 cup heavy whipping cream (either single or double is fine)

Procedure

Before I start, I just want to say that I’ve recently become more inclined to writing method in prose, mostly due to how I had to do so for my extended essay, and I enjoy the more personal feel it establishes. But yes, cheesecake.

Start of by preheating your oven to 200 degrees C (400 degrees F), and grease a 9-inch round cake tin.Thinly slice your apples and toss them in a medium-sized bowl with the sugar and cinnamon. Set aside for now.

Make the base: With a wooden spoon, or if you’re 80% Neanderthal like me, your hands, mix the five ingredients together well in another medium bowl. Press into base of your cake tin and half an inch up the sides. Make sure the bottom is even. If you live in a supremely hot climate like I do, put the base in the fridge to prevent the butter from melting and causing the pressed-up sides to sink and go limp.

Make the filling: Using a whisk (not the electrical sort, just the single whisks), cream the cream cheese and sugar together till no more sugar lumps are present in mixture. Add in the eggs one by one and whisk well between each addition. Then, add in the fresh lemon juice, sour cream/greek yoghurt and vanilla. Use a wooden spoon to mix the last few ingredients in order to incorporate as little air as possible. I found this really helped with the final texture of the cheesecake.

Assemble and bake: Take tin out of fridge and pour filling on top. No pre-baking of crust, no nothing. Just pour and plop in the oven. Oh, after you scatter those moreish, cinnamon-y apples on top, of course. Please don’t forget that bit. As I said earlier, I find that thin layers arranged in rings starting from the edges serve to kick the look factor up 10 notches. Just so… Pretty. I could’ve been neater, but I was too excited embarking on this exciting baking expedition. Literally an expedition too, because I was running around grabbing ingredients and whatnot. I need to organise myself. Anyways, once the layers are done (I just did one nice layer), put the cheesecake into the preheated oven and bake it for 15 minutes. Once 15 minutes is up, turn down the temperature to 190 degrees C (375 degrees F) and bake for another 30-35 minutes. I took mine out after 33 minutes, because that’s the way I did it the first time I baked a cheesecake this method, and there were no cracks whatsoever. Works a dream.

Make the salted caramel (adapted from Sally’s Baking Addiction): Heat sugar in a medium saucepan over medium heat, stirring occasionally with wooden spoon. Continue to do so until all the sugar melts into a pool of dark, glossy amber liquid. Once this stage is reached, add the salted butter. It’s a pretty vigorous reaction, this one. Stir with spoon to help the melting process. Once all the butter has melted, slowly add in heavy whipping cream. This part is even more vigorous that the previous one; it will spit and rise as it starts to boil. Let the mixture boil like this for another minute before taking the pan off the heat. Let cool for another couple minutes before stirring in the salt. Store in an airtight container for future use, and reserve a half cup for later.

Once cheesecake is done in the oven, carefully take out. It should still be a little wobbly and tender in the middle. Leave to cool in the same pan on a cooling rack for 15 minutes. After 15 minutes, microwave half of the reserved caramel (it would have gone a little thicker and less liquidy) for a few seconds and liberally drizzle all over top of the cheesecake. Place the cake inside the fridge and leave for at least 4 hours or overnight. It’s good to make this kind of thing the day before. No sweat.

After at least 4 hours (or overnight), take cake out of fridge. Microwave the remainder of the reserved caramel and drizzle it over the top, however you like, however much you want. You’ll probably have some caramel left.

Bam. Double salted caramel whammy.

I’m thinking grape and crisp rice cheesecake next time, just because.

Posted on May 16, 2014February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 1

Toby’s Estate

SO. It’s been, what, a year since I’ve visited Toby’s? I just love how I say Toby’s like that. So casual and upfront. My little brother, my coffee maker, my Robertson Quay pit stop. My luscious wooden enclave. My, my, my. This place was what I should like to term ‘unavailable’ for a while, due to renovations the past few weeks. So once they opened, I’ve been meaning to come back. For a comparing of standards and perhaps another trip to crema heaven. The last time I went, it was my virgin experience. I had their cappuccino and ‘Toby’s Big Breakfast’ set, which made me drool and gape, all lolled-jaw and star-spangled. I fell in love with the pale, sleek wooden decor, the high brick ceilings, the stone walls, how I could sit at the wooden study desk-like table right by the window and people watch, whilst doing work or journalling. This, I remember saying to myself, is the high life. Literally, too, because I was on a high chair. And thank God it wasn’t the sort which made me feel the creases of my skirt attacking an inappropriate crack.

Second visit. More chairs, I observed, and sophisticated still lifes and photo captures on the familiar brick. They even display their coffee goods and machinery along the walls for any caffeine nerd to check out. Once I earn my own money, I told myself. The smell of good business? Check. A white-people majority with either an iPad in hand or young child feeding? Check. Gorgeous, soft light streaming through the large rectangular window by my favourite study desk? Check, check, check. I was waiting for café buddy (or should I say, bunny) Liz, so I ordered first. All ready.

Toby’s French Toast: Brioche, espresso maple bacon, berries, diced apple and maple syrup– $14.90

And may I admit– I came here specially for this french toast. Because I’ve seen too many darn pictures of it and it looked too good to pass up this opportunity. And so I patiently waited (no induced anger this time, because the cooking time was surprisingly fast and I don’t remember tapping or humming as I sat waiting with a growling, breakfast-deprived tummy). The iced coffee was outstanding, because, well, the coffee here is always impressive. There’s nothing I could fault about the aftertaste. Refreshing, light, singing, not too acidic. An easy pass down the good ol’ oesophagus.

But the french toast. Oh, no. The waiting time may have been impressive, but the actual dish, not so much. Yes, there was the extravagant and marvellous addition of ‘espresso’ maple bacon, though there wasn’t so much a hint of espresso, let alone full-bodied flavour. It was well-cooked, crispy and beautifully maple-glazed, but I expected more from the given title. Wouldn’t have minded a little acidity or perhaps even a smidgen of coffee aroma. Perhaps the stuff evaporated completely during the lavish fry-up. The actual french toast was severely disappointing, and not even the thick, sticky maple syrup could do much to salvage it. The brioche they used was too dense to allow for complete egg saturation; the poor slices couldn’t enjoy an aristocrat’s bath long enough to have the golden goo penetrate their pores properly. The outside was nice and golden, but the inside was virgin-white, almost as if completely untouched. Normal, placid, mildly sweet white toast, without so much as a one-time dunk. Left in the cold. I might be behaving a little dramatically right now, but I really expected so much more out of this. I also think they should’ve tried making a fruit purée or compote, mixed with chunks of fresh fruit, instead of straightforward fruit. I appreciate the freshness and all, but it would’ve done more to enhance the flavour of both sweet and salty on the plate and on the palate. I picked at the outer eggy, fried bits, my heart dimly lit. Oh, Toby.

Poached eggs on sourdough with a side of sautéed mushrooms– $8.50+$5

This was Liz’s, and she was kind enough to give me some of her mushrooms, because if you ask me, mushrooms are one of the most genius things to survive on this planet. I could live on them fried, sautéed, pickled. Squished or raw, even. That’s how far I’ll go to proclaim my love for the stuff. But at restaurants or cafés, if they say ‘sautéed’, it damn well be just that. These were a little mediocre; they could’ve used a little more butter and a longer cooking time to yield a more moreish, juicy result. Though well seasoned, it lacked the slight indulgent factor. It would have paired even better with the flowy yolk. Yum. their poached eggs looked very well done, and must’ve fared much better than my own dish. The side salad with balsamic reduction was a good pucker-up accompaniment, and the sourdough was good and hearty.

Should like to conclude by saying that if you’re trying to find a rather conducive, slightly isolated but sophisticated hideout and a good cup, this is it. Ponder life and the universe while you’re at it, as you stare out into the Singapore River. It’s cool on the inside, so you could pretend you’re isolated from the gnawing heat. Just, well, skip the french toast. Perhaps it was a one-off thing. If not, long live One Man Coffee’s version.

Toby’s Estate

8 Rodyk Street, Singapore 238216
6636 7629

Posted on May 6, 2014February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 0

Cinnamon Roll Blondies

Post school, I experienced a humble but waking urge. The uzhe, I guess you could say, but I only wanted to bake something simple; something well-loved and relatively straightforward. This recipe in particular is dedicated to my lovely Em, who I wish was here at the moment just to share some with me. I have a large family already, but having her around would definitely be the coolest.

I used my favourite chewy blondie recipe as a base, and a simple maple vanilla icing to round it off to add some disastrous sweetness. The final yield: thin, dense, firm little slabs of sticky chewiness, made all the more decadent by a sudden hit of maple and vanilla at the top of your palate. Not all too sinful, not all too modest either. I experimented a little with the icing and modified it from my previous icing recipe, in which I use a little more milk. To obtain a firmer yet moist and pliable consistency, I stuck to two tablespoons of rich, whole milk. As for those blondies, the outrageous chewiness (as how I quoted on my instagram), is achieved by the use of soft, sticky brown sugar, with a little of the normal white stuff as a less serious accompaniment.

Note: I use cup measurements here only because the base recipe I derived this from does the same, and the ratios work out perfectly. For accuracy’s sake, always use the the scoop-and-sweep method when measuring flour– scoop the flour (gently) into your cup measurement, then use the back of a knife to scrape off the excess on top. I also noted that you can do this with all white sugar, and you will get blondies just as extravagantly chewy, but there will be less depth of flavour and less cinnamon hints.

Ingredients

For blondies:

1 cup all purpose flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp fine salt
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg (or fresh, if you have that wonderful sort of thing on hand. I didn’t, though of course fresh is always best)
72g unsalted butter, melted and cooled
1/2 cup white caster sugar
1/3 cup packed light brown sugar
1 egg
2 tsp vanilla extract

For maple vanilla icing:

3/4 cup icing sugar (being the sloth I am, I didn’t even sift mine, but a hard whisk is all you need to get those lumps out of the way. Really. Lazy? It’s ok. The world isn’t going to end.)
1/2 tsp vanilla
1 tsp maple syrup
1-2 tbsp of milk, depending on your surrounding temperature or preference with regard to runniness of the icing. Yes, I just made up that word. You might even need more than 2! Once again, the world will not end. We are all human. Follow your heart.

Directions

Preheat the oven to 180C (350F). Line and grease an 8-inch square pan. Alternatively you can do this in an 9×5-inch loaf pan, it just means you have to bake the blondies for longer, at least 25 minutes. Always check with a dry wooden skewer– if the batter is wet bake for 4-5 more minutes, if there are moist crumbs you’re good to go.
In a medium bowl, briefly whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon and nutmeg.
In a separate, larger bowl, whisk together both sugars and melted butter, then whisk in the egg and vanilla extract.
Using a spatula, fold dry into wet ingredients, and you should get a relatively thick, grudgingly mousse-like batter. It will be a little hard to drop off the spatula.
Pour into the square pan and bake in oven for 20-22 minutes (or as previously mentioned, 25 minutes if baking in a loaf pan). The golden-brown top should form a sugary crust and the edges should have started pulling away from the sides.
Let cool completely in the tin. Whilst you tolerate the wait, make the icing. Whisk all the icing ingredients together in a small bowl, with a fork/whisk and generous dollop of bicep power. Add the milk drop by drop, not spoon after spoon. Careful now.
Once the blondies have completely cooled, drizzle the icing in whatever patterns you desire all over the blondies.
Cut into square pieces and enjoy a bit of chewy, crusty, cinnamon heaven.

Basically.

Posted on May 1, 2014February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 4

Oz Specialty Coffee

I sincerely enjoy and relish the sight of empty coffee canisters and roasters and pressers and whatnot greeting me after a draining day at school. Liz and I tirelessly searched high and low for the place, and were immensely grateful at the first sight of a gleaming black sign plastered on a glass window, the outside neatly littered with a couple of quaint, white, wooden chairs and tables. They had the pseudo-Alice-in-Wonderland thing going on. Extraordinarily tiny area, though.

I guess you could say there is a reason why this iced mocha is cheaper than those other crazy $8 ones you would get at the more pretentious titles around town. This one was around the length of that between my wrist and knuckles. It came with glorious streaks, a pool of rich chocolate stuck to the bottom. What I enjoyed about this iced mocha in particular is firstly, the quality of the coffee beans used. The aroma is simple; not nutty or exotic but perfect for this sort of milk-based, sweet and whimsical drink. Secondly, it was not overly sweet, drenched excessively in cheap chocolate syrup and then quickly covered up with cold whole milk to make visually appealing to the masses. No, this one is a delicate, miniature mocha. I would have perhaps preferred it a little colder, and with espresso cubes instead of the normal ones, though of course I now sound like a spoilt little coffee brat, don’t I. Keep it up, Oz. I like you already.

Salted caramel belgian Liege waffles– $7.50 — Salted caramel Belgian Liege waffles– $7.50

And I promise you it’s worth every cent. I guess you could go somewhere such as Assembly Coffee or Stranger’s Reunion for your waffle fix, though it’s most likely frustratingly crowded and you might have to force open the door to get a little fresh air amongst the clatter and chatter. This was an utterly, outrageously delectable change. They have a whole darn Belgian Liege series, for goodness’ sake, and you get two beautiful little Belgian babies in less than 15 minutes with a appropriately-sized scoop of above-average vanilla ice cream. Belgian Liege waffles are essentially the brioche of waffles– thick and sensual, thicker and chewier. You can’t not have these. Can’t. I mean, you can see the vanilla speckles, right? I wouldn’t say it’s as devilish and heat-tolerant as the ice cream at Habitat’s, which really was an unexpected dream. The ice cream here melted in heart-stopping time, and we were sitting indoors. They also offer options such as waffles with summer berries or with scrambled eggs and bacon, if you’re more of a savoury soul. The next time I pop by, I’m going to give their affogato version a try. Drizzle of espresso over thick, moist, slightly sweet and chewy 4-inch waffles. I saw pictures, ok. The dream is alive, just a few bus stops away.

Each bite was satisfying and yet not overly indulgent. The portion size is perfect, the flavours meld together beautifully. But watch out. They said salted caramel, but sadly that wasn’t what I got. One may detect traces of salt in the thick sauce, however it’s not as prominent or outstanding as what you would probably get at say, Assembly Coffee. They need to turn up the salt notch and use more authentic salted caramel, for although this was thick and lovingly true to my childhood idea of the BEST caramel sauce ever, it rendered a less sophisticated vibe with its gloopy sweetness.

Best bit: Crisp exterior and dense, mildly sweet, true-to-brioche interior.

Processed with VSCOcam with f2 preset — Raspberry cheesecake– $6

We gave in. Ordered this.

This expensive slice has a moist and dark base, with a creamy, lightly aerated interior, though I still prefer a more buttery, tangy and coronary heart disease-inducing white filling. It’s on the sweeter side, which made it enjoyable but nothing special. That being said, I liked how it wasn’t too muggy whilst still retaining a good level of indulgence within that whipped and cheesy body. The top is raspberry jam, which yielded a sweet and tart finish.

Oz Specialty Coffee

#01-13, Thomson V Two, 11 Sin Ming Road

Posted on April 26, 2014February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 0

Pies and Coffee

Been a while since I had a pie. The title is a little too dead-on straightforward, isn’t it. Straight up pies, and all sorts of them. A huge thank you to my bloop who took me to this cosy spot after a rough day at school. Eternally. Grateful (:

Before you hound me on my non-existent rights to use not-quite-there iPhone quality, I should like you all to know that this place has on my to-go list for quite a while now and I’m rather proud of the fact that I was able to sit down for a good few hours with my bloop (Ruru!!) to enjoy some pies and coffee. There. Alright, so we gave this one a shot. It was their ‘pie of the month’, so that in itself sort of made me inclined to just… Try. This aside, they have a ton of other round, crusty, fork-fingered options, such as wagyu beef cheek, lamb shank, wagyu beef rendang and cheddar cheese and chicken. Look around and the place is literally littered with all sorts of goods encased in a whole pie shell or crust, both savoury and gloriously sweet. I was sweating by the time we walked there, so you can imagine my relief when we were greeted by the beckoning, cool interior, with hip sofas and white chairs. One of those places I wouldn’t mind just being by myself to study in, or emptying some hours with a good friend or two. Stuff my face with pie and perhaps dissolve right into its belly.

I was a little skeptical about the coffee, and just as I thought, it was simply not evident, not even a little, in and amongst the hunks of thigh meat crust. Nowhere to be found, but this lack of my favourite food group was compensated by the sufficiently tender meat. Then again, I suggest a quick change in name of their special, in case they get any complaints. Either that or they should take the marination step a little more seriously. The meat? I say sufficiently, as, well, that’s plainly what it was. Not abhorrently dry, yet not as dewy and juicy as I would have liked. Plain, good thigh meat, and I’m glad they didn’t skimp on the occasional fatty bit either. The chewy bits of cartilage always appeal to me, as awful as that may sound to another. Cartilage love is a deep and carnal affair. The deep and luscious colour of the chicken looked almost inappropriate; I expected the honest halo of off-white or soft brown chicken meat, though understandably it’s labelled with coffee for a reason, despite the complete lack of exactly that. It looked rather inviting at my first cut, my knife giving way through the crust with 10 times more ease than what I prepared myself for. I could say it was a tad disheartening, for I enjoy an almost-burnt or charred, grossly crusty sort of crust. This one fell away from the interior a little too easily, and though the pastry itself was palatable, the texture could have been a little more civilised. Savagely toasted, yum. I personally would have preferred a lightly heartier middle, with more moxie and, dare I say it, shreds? I just got chunk after chunk. I watched as the lady at the counter nonchalantly plopped one pie from the display counter into the heater. Clearly, these guys aren’t the freshest bunch of pies, but it’s still a relatively comforting option if you’re around the area. No, its not the sort of fully heartening grub you would get at a local English pub, maybe even Murray’s or whatnot, but my taste buds were not wholly disappointed, especially with the kind accompaniment of their special mash and gravy, into which they even incorporated the potato skins, to add a welcoming, different texture. The gravy was of the right degree of lumpiness, if that even is a word at all, and the mash boasted creamy, almost wholesome notes. I could deceive myself into thinking so anyway. Good, buttery stuff.

I’ve got a sweet tooth. So does she. What could we do? We had to order this lime basil meringue tart. We just had to. It looked like the rose among the thorns of sweet tarts, its meringue hat pulling it up a few rungs on the ladder of regality in the counter display. I’m actually not too sure about that pricing; I somehow remember it to be just that, though I could be wrong. I don’t even trust my own soggy memory. I was drawn in by those beautifully torched, thick swirls of meringue, some yellow or vermillion jewel of an interior lovingly encased by what looked to be a gloriously crusty, buttery pastry. Got it, sat down. Cut, pulled, mouth…

The meringue was exceedingly sweet and outrageously thick. If I could describe it in one word, it would be cloying. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the complementary tartness of the murky orange curd, which wasn’t as thick as a hard-set jelly or even fridge-cold custard (oh, how I wish the entire tart was fridge-cold!), but more so a viscous, wilting jam. They slashed some sickly sweet strawberry jam across the plate as well, which I thought completely unnecessary. The lime and basil spoke for itself, with the latter coming through in subtle nudges, peeking through the thick lime base, which didn’t taste completely of lime. I could’ve been fooled by a lemon label. They might as well have typed ‘citrus’ and the utter lack of differentiation between lime and lemon could have been excused. That aside, I thoroughly relished the actual flavour of the curd, especially with the hardy crust, which I thought fared much better than that of the pie. As for the meringue, they could have cut back on the sugar, and deviated from the thick, almost-Italian meringue sort of consistency. It made me think of a similar meringue tart I had at Assembly Coffee, where it was light, delicate and perfect aerated. This one hit my sweet tooth just a little too hard, to the point whereby it felt as if each bite was more sin than decadence. Sinful decadence, remember, is an entirely different thing altogether. It’s funny, because I did relish the unusual pairing of something paired with basil, perhaps because the sweet-tart complementary pairing was intense and duly satisfying. It’s making me want to incorporate lime into one of my baking experiments, if I ever do get the time (?!)

Rating: 3.4/ 5.0

Pies and Coffee

Rochester Mall
35 Rochester Drive, #01-02, Singapore 138639
Tel: +65 6570 0080 | Fax: +65 6659 2217

Posted on April 17, 2014February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 0

alexcrumb

recipes, catering, creativity

alexcrumb

Tag: foodphotography

Salted Caramel Apple Cheesecake

Toby’s Estate

Cinnamon Roll Blondies

Oz Specialty Coffee

Pies and Coffee