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

Wimbly Lu Chocolates

I write this as a sailor stranded to my bed, the cold shivers churning my skin blue and green and all sorts of unnatural tones. I hate sickness. I hate what it does to you; the freedom it strips away from you. Food poisoning is actually the worst. So to make myself feel a little better, I’ve decided to talk about waffles. Which is easy enough, except these were particularly good waffles, and not the mediocre sort you would get from trying to make it yourself at home from a pack. Granted I’m no waffle expert, but I think I know a good one when I taste/see one. Welcome to Wimbly Lu, everyone.

Be careful, though. The chances of your bottom ruining the dainty, feminine chairs laid out as if for a 24/7 tea party is monstrously high.

foreground: waffle with honey cinnamon ice cream with toffee sauce– $8.50 background– waffle with salted caramel ice cream and maple syrup– $8.50 nutella chocolate pie– $6 — foreground: waffle with honey cinnamon ice cream with toffee sauce– $8.50
background– waffle with salted caramel ice cream and maple syrup– $8.50
nutella chocolate pie– $6

Worth it. Every single cent.

I never really thought myself a diehard waffle fan. But I GET the appeal of these– outrageously crisp exterior, wonderfully fluffy interior. The ice cream topping was lovely, though I wish they had larger ice cream scoops. The ratio was a little off, and this fact was made even more evident as the sun ran its course, and the cream slithered into all the cute little square syrup traps and down the sides, soaking each nook and cranny, but there was just not enough of it to provide a more moderate degree of pleasure.

Honey cinnamon and salted caramel aside, they also have flavours such as cheesecake (dear lord, I was close to picking that one), rum and raisin (alright, that too), milo, brownie, chocolate truffle and vanilla bean. Doesn’t that just sound decadent.

Gosh, the crunch on that thing. My ears perked as my knife made shingle sounds, as it cut into the wonderful, brown crust. I have to say though, the waffles from Artistry still have my heart glued to its perfect little crevices.

I didn’t expect much from the nutella pie, but goodness, it was pretty much the richest chocolate pie I’ve ever had, laced with the childlike whimsy of nutella. A deep, dark ganache, not overly cloying, so thick, so beautiful. The pastry was only lightly sweetened to play off the carnal chocolate notes. It worked magnificently.

Why hi, ungroomed toes.

I read quite a bit about their famous lemon meringue pie, and I almost felt inhuman if that meant not taking one of these babies home. Just one slice, at a shocking 7 bucks, but at least it was one of those humongous slices that could last one for days on end. Quite satisfied, yes. The interior is a buttery lemon curd, topped with swirls of sweet, torched meringue, all lying on a strong pastry base, sweeter than that of the nutella pie, but justly so, for a mild sweetness was necessary to offset the jaw-tingling tang of lemon. I loved it. You will love it. Go get it.

Wimbly Lu Chocolates

15 Jalan Riang

6289 1489

Tues-Thurs– 12 30 to 10 30pm

Fri– 12 30 to 11pm

Sat/Sun– 9am to 11pm

Closed Mondays

Posted on April 4, 2014February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 2

Gaest

Be my Gaest.

Nordic-inspired cuisine? Who would’ve thunk it.

So I went all the way to the Central Business District, walking along McCallum Street just to try out these guys’ sandwiches, and ended up totally going against that. Yes, I should’ve regretted it from the start. But I was just as satisfied. No really! Just listen, or better yet, go there yourself. Now. Tomorrow. Soon. Please.

Let’s just say I wasn’t expecting it. I made my order, after a gruelling self-debate session. It’s the worst part every time I go on some solo adventure. Girl and Going Solo, with a large side of Indecision. I swear. But yes, my order: Iced cappuccino, and the poached eggs with goat’s cheese, eggplant, salad and their homemade rye bread. They had brunch specials, to my giddy surprise. And you heard that? Homemade. In house. Made from the heart. You can imagine how excited I was. Because you know bread and I go way back, and I adore the savoury twist of rye; its dense and wholesome flavour, packed with seeds, nuts and glory. I’ll try their sourdough another time, promise.

You just have to love time alone.

The drink came first, though the lady got my order wrong and gave me an iced latte at first. Didn’t take too long for them to rectify that, though. Perfect on that numbingly-hot late morning.

Ah, this dish. I poked at the egg’s belly, as per usual, and the flow of yolk almost made me sweat. It was quite beautiful, and I don’t exaggerate when it comes to poached eggs. I watch videos on them to make me feel better. Weird, I know. On top of savoury, moist eggplant and goat’s cheese. God, that cheese. I chose this brunch special in particular because of it. It’s rare that I get to eat something of the sort, you know. Or maybe it’s just because I haven’t chanced upon the right occasion to even try. The pictures above should say enough. I was initially worried that I made the wrong decision–ugh Alex, did you just pass up on the correct decision of sandwiches again??– but no, that right there was brunch-ful beauty, a coming-together of spectacular, simple flavours on a plate. And I kind of want to steal their plates, now that I think of it. My white home varieties are getting a tad boring, to be honest. Eggs and cheese aside, the rye was the best part, with its glorious brown crust, thin but dense texture and hearty flavour.

The salad it came with was all bright, lightly sweet, tangy and perky, with cherry tomatoes, carrots and barley grains. The light crunch of the latter complemented the bed of greens, all dusted with the kiss of a sweet and lemony vinaigrette. The fronds and tails and tendrils all clumped together, but all that did was make me eat it more politely. I’m still improving on the caveman streak. T’was good.

As you can tell by its less-than-perfect corner, I couldn’t help myself by the time I got home, especially after walking all around Singapore (that’s another story). At first glance, I wasn’t expecting much. I bought this square of a dark beauty on total impulse. I was only telling myself that hey, I’m hardly around this part of town, so why the heck not. Can you see the moisture painting a soft glisten on the fudgy belly of that thing? Gorgeous, fudgy, but not too dense. Much more fudgy than chewy, and the chocolate is on the milkier side, despite yielding a mighty rich flavour. They took this brownie seriously, so I did too.

I really like it there, and I was actually able to get some work done. The fact that almost everything is homemade gives it an edge over the sprawling maze of other cafés and restaurants in the area. Highly impressed.

Rating: 4.8/5

Gaest

21 McCallum St. #01-01, The Clift
Singapore, Singapore 069047

Mon-Sat– 0730-1600 (closed Sundays)

Posted on March 8, 2014February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 4

Muchachos

I have to pounce on this short-spaced opportunity to write something about a little Mexican place tucked away in Chinatown. I tell you now that this is the first proper adult burrito I’ve ever had in my entire life. I’ll just subtly throw in the fact that I’m 17, so that leaves a little room for quick hop-and-go experiments now. Honest to God. Never in my life have I willfully set out to have a Mexican meal; the idea simply never appealed to me, purely because of my Asian-rooted culinary habits or the occasional yearning for some gourmet fusion fare. Throw in a burger or two and you’ve got me in the fish net. But burritos? Ha, I wasn’t even keen on the idea. But having read a number of reviews lauding the authenticity of this bean-stuffed hole in the wall iced with hanging lights, I felt like abandoning my comfort zone this Friday night. So we ventured to Chinatown, practically a foreigner in my own country, and immediately warmed up to the human heat and red bustle of the area.

The black sign stood out in neat block letters on a glass pane, and the inside beckoned with its beautiful lights, like mini lamps on the end of black streamers, a row of toppings, meats and fats smirking at you from the side. You see the sour cream, guacamole, beans deep fried a second time in mountains of lard, tomato salsa, sweet pulled pork, rice and more. A woman is spreading their homemade cheese spread of cheddar and Monterey Jack on tortilla. You secretly hope she is the best burrito filler they’ve got, and suddenly spot the cold glass of ‘Mexican Cola’ by the side. One of that too please, and you whip out $4.25, before scrutinising the toppings laid out naked before you.

The friend I went with told me that the last time he came, he got the Carnitas, or pork butt slow-cooked in its own lard (goodness yum?!), stuffed with all the trimmings, and could’ve gone on for a full 5 minutes on how wonderful it was. I pondered the idea of beef, since it offered a new taste option and was just a little more expensive, so obviously I wondered if it had some special kick factor which separated the gold from the silver. ‘Pork or beef?’ I asked the capped and aproned lady. I didn’t even end on a questioning lilt before she replied with ‘pork’. Well then. Pork butt it was.

And pork butt it was golden. Added rice, black beans, deep fried beans (which I thought resembled a mild red hummus at first), tomato salsa, fresh guacamole made with ripe Hass avocados, pork, sour cream and hot sauce. The woman asked if I was on some special diet when I gawked at the re-fried beans. I said no, a little annoyed, and hurriedly asked her to pile it on. Thank you. And yes, I do think burritos are wimpy children without sour cream or hot sauce; those two need to be married and done away with. The rice yielded a nice bite and edge, which offered good texture amongst the mush of creamy avocado and that moist, pink landslide of gooey beans. Starch upon starch upon protein, that was. I’m ever so grateful for the discovery of hot sauce at the place, for despite already being lovely and moist on the inside, the monster wrap still needed a little red kick in the gut with some flavourful, simple spice, to squeeze all those wonderful flavours together. The one thing I didn’t particularly enjoy was the occasional dry chunk of pork I would get stuck in the middle of a bit of guac (or my front teeth). Not exactly intolerably dry per se, but dry enough for you to notice in that sea of moisture, juxtaposed by the chewy beauty of tortilla. It was still aromatic, smoky and offered a good chew, so I wasn’t complaining. The tortilla itself isn’t toasted or grilled, which I didn’t mind, but doing so would have added another delectable dimension of flavour, another inch of smokiness.

They also serve quesadillas, more oddly named drinks, beer and buffalo wings. I’m making a strict mental note to visit more restaurants around the Chinatown area in the near future. Gems stacked upon gems. All hidden, all raising their arms to me. All so promising.

Rating: 4.6/5

Muchachos

22 Keong Saik Street

6220 0458

Mon – Thu: 12:00 – 16:00, 18:00 – 22:00
Fri – Sat: 12:00 – 00:00

Posted on February 28, 2014February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 0

alexcrumb

recipes, catering, creativity

alexcrumb

Tag: #foodreview

Oz Specialty Coffee

Pies and Coffee

Wimbly Lu Chocolates

Gaest

Muchachos