Symmetry

And funnily enough, this isn’t another one of my odd rambles (possibilities include facial symmetry, the symmetry of life and all it encompasses, how everything typically goes off the bend. Anyways.)

My camera received more than a few evil glares from unknowing passers-by.

I’ve read reviews on this place countless times and decided it was finally time to give this supposedly indie nook a go. ‘Hipster’, they called it. What could I lose, I said to myself, as I drew myself out of the bustling Orchard grounds. Eggs eggs eggs, my stomach chanted.

Portobello Benedict, with cheddar, hollandaise, hash and portobello duxelle

If I can take one word away from that experience this morning, it would be squashed. The first thing I saw, before the barista, before the lavish plates of eggy dishes, were human beings. All sorts, packing the little area to the brim. There, the ponytailed waitress pointed. I faced about 5 inches of wood; a skinny rectangular slab. I didn’t care, though. The seat was heavy but adorable, and my lashes fluttered at the menu. I always order some form of poached eggs at cafes because too, too many places serve rather mediocre or pathetic blobs of ivory, bursting with what? Usually not a golden river to set your heart aflame.

Portobello Benedict it was.

Took my breath away. Well oiled, plump ovals. Babies. The gentle prod of my fork unleashed an angry, tender flow. It energetically filled the crisp holes in the toasted, buttery English muffin, swamping a melting tang of cheddar. Complimented so perfectly with a hearty dose of duxelle, which is basically minced portobello and garlic. The cheese and hollandaise was the savoury cake’s icing, thin and slightly crusty around the edges. My palette was overwhelmed, but my heart was quite grateful. At $22, this is no cheap sacrifice, but every bite was absolutely worth it. Even the hash was beautifully crisp and golden, without being mushy in the centre.

That’s it. I’m trying the sur le pat, pain perdu and duck egg next time I come.

Rating: 4.8/5

Symmetry Cafe

9 Jalan Kubor

Posted on August 10, 2013February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 1

Fat Cow

That’s the thing about personalised invitation cards. The epitome of real effort. My grandfather is still cool enough to do this sort of thing, even if, you know, he doesn’t quite know the name of the young woman beside me. Or such an example is common enough. You can’t expect the elderly to be superhuman too. Oh, but I do love him so. Charming and comely old man. Singapore’s No. 1 bowler back in the day, and with such a flying passion!

Anyways, no, this isn’t a Heston Blumenthal clone, or any cuisine of the sort. Japanese-inspired steakhouse right here.

Japanese leek with ponzu jelly and sesame dressing

That salad was a crisp concoction made by the Tangy Japanese Gods.

I was pretty scared to touch the carpaccio, which looked about 0.001mm thin and as delicate as my dad’s hairline. But I did anyway. It was still frightening on the tongue, as it close to evaporated once it hit the buds. Moist, a little bland, but the truffle made it boom with musk and sophistication.

The fried zucchini flower was a light break during the rage of courses that night. The batter was airy but separated a little too easily from the flower, and its thickness merged with the flower made it seem almost incongruous. But a joy all the same.

It’s easy to talk about meat, but the steamboat here was magical. Each chopstick slip of the red, raw stuff was a ticket to the most tender slivers of melt-on-your-tongue premium beef. Boiled in a soup which starts off tasteless but ends off sweet, reduced and wondrous. I can almost feel the bubbles tickling my throat. Dip it in the pastel orange-clad shabu shabu sauce, maybe a little more in the soup, add a hint of rice and off you go and enter another mental state altogether.

Repeat.

Porridge. I saw it on the menu and passed it as some filler idea. But then again, if it’s on this menu, it’s got to good, right?

Right. And I was. No really I swear. It’s the best savoury porridge you will try in your lifetime. There’s writing your will and then there’s coming here to have just one bowl of this. As they say here, it truly is shiok. Nourishing, warm, glutinous. The consistency of a wilted lemon curd, with soft, popping granules throughout, and healthy dollops of tender mushroom, shallots, garlic and chives. I need to stop here because my mouth is watering. Also, because I’m rather angry at myself for having the smallest stomach in the world, so by this time during the meal I could finish a paltry fraction of that small bowl.

I don’t like mochi on its own, but the little translucent cuboids here were paired with a sticky, gooey gula melaka to reinforce its glutinous texture. The matcha and peanut dippings helped a fair bit, too. My favourite was that yuzu, which reminded me of white angels for some reason. I receive strange and non-sequitur connections whenever I’m faced with beautiful or delicious plates of food.

Rating: 4.8/5

Fat Cow

1 Orchard Boulevard #01-01/02

Camden Medical Centre

6735 0308

Posted on July 31, 2013February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 1

Open Door Policy

Impromptu meet ups at nice, tucked away corners with old faces may cost a lot physically, but I don’t put price tags on the reliving of old brother-sister moments. Brunch, you say? Hell yes. I’ll be there, 11.30am on the dot. I’d like to make a reservation for two please, sir. Oh, and in natural daylight if that’s possible (yes I did say that on the phone). I’ll wander all around Tiong Bahru if that’s what it takes to finally live in the moment of the cynosure of this adorned café.

roasted field mushrooms with wilted greens on toasted brioche with black truffle purée

Look at that. Basically, it was fantastic. The mushrooms were tender, unbruised little baby ones without too much oil suffocating their gills. You can see that after the knife cut, the brioche was yellow, sweet and fluffy, making it an angelic bed for the muted savoury tones of everything on top. The one thing I didn’t like was how when my plate came, the brioche was nowhere to be seen. And I prefer to observe and appreciate each component. Otherwise, it merely looked like a meat eater’s leftovers, neatly placed to the side for the rabbits.

What I really loved was that truffle purée. It looked like the liquid which you would skim off soft bricks of ebony sludge, but the flavour and texture was all right. The best thing to mush on top of the crisp, toasted sides of the skinny brioche wall, laden with a few mushroom stalks and set off nicely with the flat, forgiving greens. Fragrant, thick goop.

ODP pancakes with Grand Marnier and orange

And right here you may observe my tartan-clad self attempting to handle my friend’s gem of a film camera.

The pancakes were disappointingly dry coins. As if its spirit was sucked into a vacuum before they served it. Sapped of all life. The Grand Marnier itself could not suffice. Yes there was liquor and orange, and it didn’t look all that bad at first, but I took one bite and declined another. The other thing I could not stand was the woman next to us who wouldn’t stop scrutinising our every little moment. Hovering, waiting. The sort whereby whenever you looked in her direction, she was already looking in yours. But I may forgive her, because she was new and I was in a hey-I’m-not-an-odp-virgin-anymore sort of mood.

The next time I come, I’ll try the scrambled eggs and smoked salmon. I will, because I can, and well, salmon.

Rating: 3.6/5

Open Door Policy

19 Yong Siak Street

Posted on July 22, 2013February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 0

Drury Lane

I like adventures.

Personally, I like personal adventures. So I pretty much pounced on the opportunity to hop down to the newly opened café, named after a street around the Covent Garden area in London. A little burst of sunshine in the middle of Tanjong Pagar. I needed to try, and try I did.

There are so many cafés here, though not half as many as the sprawling bundles in London. I turned up at 10:43 this late morning, armed with my cam, only slightly casual garb and a stomach for eggs and caffeine. The things I do to hold on to the past.

My heart was beating. Believe it or not, I was excited. There were stacked boxes and an ‘upstairs’. Who doesn’t like an upstairs? I think it was the red paint. Or maybe I was having another post-yoga high. The glisten of glowing pink cheeks and a clammy forehead. Don’t I sound attractive.

Iced double espresso. These guys add a dollar to your bill if you want anything iced. Which in my opinion, is not worth it if one is forced to tolerate the harmful heat of Singapore. They should add a dollar for anything that’s not iced. This brew really was what I needed. I felt my soul awaken, my nerves tingle. There was an almost spicy aftertaste, nudging the back of my throat, after the fragrant stream of black finished lingering at the back of my tongue. Glad it was iced. So, very glad. On a side note, my table number was 17! (in other words, the best number in the world, because it blessed the world once before, around 17 years ago in the month of November).

marmite and cheese toast soldiers with two half boiled eggs

I won’t lie, I wanted to drop to my knees and cry out in exasperation and despair when this was brought to my lone table. All alone I sat there, looking at the two pathetic blobs for five minutes. Excuse me sir, could I please have two proper half-boiled eggs please, and not this limp white spider of a once-embryo, I wanted to ask. But my mouth only quivered, because I believed in the place. Watched the awkward waiter walk back down. I tested my luck and pried one open, praying for a golden river.

Alas, golden river it was not. It wasn’t even soft-boiled with a tad bit of runny yolk in the centre. It was soft in the middle, but otherwise a hundred percent overcooked. Nothing flowed, nothing to coat the toast. The toast itself was overly drenched in what seems to me a mixture of butter and marmite, betraying its could-be texture of crunch and fluff. Furthermore, the word ‘soldiers’ shouldn’t be used lightly here. I wanted thin soldiers, not obese and soggy white men. The edges were nicely toasted, and the cheese had the right degree of tag and sharpness. Sadly, everything else was a mess. The world could end one day if all yolks just stood still.

In fact, I wrote a poem titled ‘The Day the Yolk Stood Still.” I kid you not. It was great to just be alone for two hours, writing and drawing and thinking, just bombarded with my own thoughts and the dazzling rays shining through the shophouse windows.

Great coffee, lovely ambience… pity about my second breakfast of the day. I’m quite sure there are much nicer, more aesthetically pleasing items on the menu. I’m sure, I’m sure. It’s still new, after all.

Rating: 3/5

Drury Lane

94 Tanjong Pagar Road

Posted on July 16, 2013February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 7

London- Joe’s

SS.

What?

Sorry. I meant Sloane Street. Ah yes, and the first place we visited for some grub in London. Not that it was expected though. It’s not even a stand-alone cafe or restaurant with a holy reputation. Just some three-dimensional block pop out letters next to mannequins. Just an innocent little hideaway in a posh suburb, under a blanc floor of expensive and shiny ladies clothing. Shiny because for some funny reason, that’s how I remember it to be. And I always believed there was some correlation between shininess and drawing attention.

I adored the vintage black and white portraits hung in a neat row alongside the arrangement of little square tables, as if the people in the portraits were determined to ensure smooth-sailing flow of emotion and conversation throughout a romantic meal just by looking over them. My cousins and I babbled away, probably much to the annoyance of the waiters who might as well have been French and snooty with curly, rigid moustaches. We were downright lucky to be in the presence of fine-mannered gentlemen who even offered my younger sister a starter of lemon 7-up. Too kind, really.

fresh white crab with diced mango and avocado

smoked salmon, mango, avocado and cornish crab salad with grapefruit dressing

The fare was quite splendid, though I struggled to find the avocado in my crab dish.Turns out some slices were sneakily lurking under the little bed of greens. Looks are really quite deceiving, for the dishes are about a thousand times bigger than how it looks. Splitting things made business easier, and the enjoyment factor was pushed up because of this too. Every ingredient was fresh and ripe, which was what made the whole experience almost a rejuvenating one. However, nothing particularly stood out to me like a cat’s eyes at night. Nothing dazzlingly brilliant, though their slices of rye at the start were indeed impressive.

No justice done without at least a little starch. Now, every time I look at ketchup, which by the way is a marvellous accompaniment to a myriad other things in life, I can’t help but cringe at how some bakeries (*cough PAUL) don’t allow such condiments in house. Whilst having lunch with a friend today, I was astounded by the polite ‘I’m sorry, but we don’t provide ketchup here’. I was having eggs so, that statement was more appropriate as a joke. The fries were good, the bread, excellent, but the price… I’d rather not mention. Then again, it too comprised of quality service and fresh produce. Oh right, and the dizzying shopping ambience above and across the street. Gosh, the shopping itself deserves a whole post on its own. I felt like a sliver of plankton thrown amongst the gushing waves of human scents and faces and skin.

Joe’s was a good start for more great things to come.

Rating: 4.0/5

Joe’s

16 Sloane Street, London

Posted on July 9, 2013February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 0

alexcrumb

recipes, catering, creativity

alexcrumb

Tag: #foodreview

Symmetry

Fat Cow

Open Door Policy

Drury Lane

London- Joe’s