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 (:

Processed with VSCOcam with f2 preset — Pie of the month– Honey chicken (thigh) coffee pie– $9.95

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

Artistry

Oh baby. We made it. Rejoice and let the angels sing in the background. All hail the world of coffee and waffles.

Seriously, it’s almost a job. By the way, did you know that cafés actually make for extremely conducive work spaces? I used to avoid them like the plague, and now look what’s bitten me. Can’t help it, I just can’t. I’m living the dream, and studying becomes so much more exciting and worthwhile beside the perfect cup of coffee. I learnt this fact today. Most glad I did, at that. Furthermore, it’s the most satisfying thing in the whole world to be able to tick a café’s name of my to-go list. Akin to having a bright, cold shower after being stuck in the heat. Almost like tasting sweet water after having none of the stuff for 12 hours straight. That’s how empowering that tick is.

Popped by this GEM of a place near Arab Street, heart on my sleeve, coffee stomach empty (and hair a little messy). After having the french toast at One Man Coffee, my friend and I decided to share just a couple of things, just so we didn’t feel like exploding halfway, a la Monty Python and the Meaning of Life. If any of you have watched it, please tell me what you think of that absurd fat suit in the comments. Moving on. Ordered a Gibraltar and the Belgian waffles at the counter, from a most charismatic and knowledgeable young man. The fancy espresso machines were smirking at us, and the kindly service was so becoming that afternoon. I couldn’t wait to sit down and enjoy something good. Look, it was my first time. Sole virgin experiences don’t deserve pretentious expectations. But I tell you, oh, I tell you, I wa sseverly underestimating the quality of this space. The coffee, for one, was a dream in a cup. Not very acidic, but the beautiful roast was aromatic and kindly, bringing forth the right degree of caffeinated strength, sweetness and bitterness.

Belgian waffles with berry compote, maple syrup (served in the sweetest 10ml laboratory beaker) and fig and honey ice cream– $7+$3+$4 ($7 for just the waffles, and each additional scoop is $3)

You’re officially in denial if you say this isn’t a work of art.

Alright, everyone has had waffles before. Probably from a next best café, or a box mix, or something. One thing’s for sure, and that it probably doesn’t come close to the divinity my friend and I experienced that afternoon, as we sat there in the weak sun for the sake of catching this babe in the best possible light. I mean, look at that. Of course, there’s beautiful food, and then there’s beautiful and delicious food. I’m so excited to gush about how crisp, light and fluffy these were that my hands are practically flying across the keyboard and I’m constantly attacking the backspace button because I just can’t type properly with these sentiments and memories of that one waffle.

Crisp, I said. Oh, so crisp! They beat the ones I had at Assembly Coffee, and probably the ones at Strangers’ Reunion. The crunch was magnificent, angelic, but most of all, completely and utterly unexpected. Of the perfect thickness and doneness. I didn’t think they were going to be anything which surpassed mediocre. Waffles are so easy to be described as good. Shove the batter in the creviced pan and bam, you’ll probably get something nice. Decent, almost. Alright. But these are so wonderfully aerated and full of character, as if destined to be ravaged with the most extravagant of toppings, such as this gorgeous berry compote, which offered a sharp tinge of ruby citrus for our sweetened buds. The ice cream was a refreshing twist, though I can’t sing praise for that alone. The fig and honey was not evident at first bite, and offered little depth in flavour. I was surprised at how long the ball stayed in tact after spending quite a while in the heat, though, and after we went on a guilty photo-taking spree.

I’m going to try their famed cakes and PB&J french toast (goodness gracious?!) the next time, and my heart is pounding at the mere thought of such undeserved extravagance.

Tune in to your senses at Artistry. Read a book. Soak in some jazz. Pretty magic.

Rating: 4.8/5.0

Artistry Café

17 Jalan Pinang

6298 2420

Singapore 199149
Tuesday-Sunday 10am-7pm

Posted on March 22, 2014February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 0

One Man Coffee

Where do I even begin.

I kind of wish to keep this place a secret. Is that ok? Ever since I first heard about it and saw some rather moreish pictures on Instagram, I was ready to make a short visit, a hasty pop-by, and now I find myself there at least once or twice a week after school. Yeah. Just because it’s become an absurd necessity to be part of that coffee situation when my head’s reduced to mud after the constant clashing of school happenings, and this place is like my quantum of solace, a place where I can simply sit down, enjoy great coffee and some bloody good pastry, collect my thoughts, and study. And a special address to Sarah, the lovely, bubbly, and if I say so myself, supremely talented barista who works here!

But you know, evidently, I love this place, and it does deserve some publicity. I always give out an inner squeal whenever I approach its humble sign, like a little elf beckoning me to come in, pay for something, anything.

These were the first things I ever got from this baby hole-in-the-wall. Before I ramble, I should just like to say that this is a completely honest review, and in all honesty, I should like for this to be less of a typical review, because it’s so much more than a flurry of descriptive words and images. It’s utterly won me over and I daresay a ‘review’ just won’t cut it.

The piccolo was a little more on the milky side, though the beans shone through beautifully nonetheless. I took home that gorgeous salted caramel danish, and hurriedly toasted it. Unsurprisingly, and I should’ve seen it coming, the ooey belly of the danish, that rich, dripping salty, caramelly goodness started seeping out like blood from someone’s side. Oops. But messy was good, and good it was. No, spectacular. It was a little limp, with the flakes and layers not yielding a good enough crust, but only because it was not as fresh as it probably was when first baked (they get their goods from local French bakery B.A.O.). The fluffy and genuine salty character of that caramel is laudable. That is exactly what salted caramel should taste like; not the half-assed salt you usually get.

The pear crumble danish is a beauty, and was magnificent after being toasted for a minute. The pastry in both danishes is lovely and buttery, complementing the filling of either salt or sweet. The pear was soft, almost like the chunks you might find in a fruit compote.Pale, tender, with a little give. A slightly more robust texture would be more befitting, but it did my soul good. The crumble topping crisped up nicely when toasted, and went nicely with that dusting of icing sugar (which, surprisingly, held together even after my half-hour rocky trudge home).

The glug of rich chocolate syrup. It hit my throat before the cool milk, and then everything else fell into place. Did I mention it’s worth the price. Pretty tall glass, if you ask me. I planned on getting it when I saw it at someone else’s table the first time I went and was struggling to contain the green-eyed monster. The syrup is drizzled all round the sides of the glass, and slowly starts to integrate with the frigid milk to form a refreshing chocolate drink. So it’s chocolate+milky caffeine, then an enhancement of those two separate flavours as they meld into one another. After this, I came to the ecstatic, enlightening conclusion that this is my new favourite café.

Brioche french toast with cream, berry compote and candied walnuts– $10

You ALL know. How much my love for french toast consumes all darned sense and sensibility on my part. I admit, I wrote a whole journal entry on how much I loved this. Guys, I’ve tried a LOT of french toast. And this is probably one of, if not the, best. I say it myself, right here, right now. All hail the glory of this one, thick slice of sweet brioche french toast. Dripping in sweet whipped cream, apple compote, sugar on sugar, and then you get the lightly burnt aroma of candied walnuts on top- toasted, petite, delightful little things. Ashy rainfall on this snowy bed of cream. My hands were shaking because every bite was just so exciting and mesmerising. It was hard to contain myself in public, ok. I wanted to shout the wonders of this small piece of toast, saturated, jaw-aching in the best possible way. The outside glistened with the gentle sear of a hot pan, the inside beckoned with its bouncy, foamy, eggy intensity, whilst being perfectly aerated at the same time. The butter caressed every crevice of the light-as-air brioche, enhancing the gorgeous craters locked on its surface.

The sweet cream and jam does get a tad overwhelming at times, so a few bites later the brioche goes from a light snowflake to a dense-bellied, cream-stuffed ball. I’m not complaining, though. I quite like it that way, though a slightly staler loaf or lesser cream would’ve sufficed. Those without my sweet tooth better take it easy. The amount of jam was perfect, thick and interspersed with large chunks of sweet apple. I could go on and on. Love of my life.

Scone with butter (or cream, if you wish) and apple jam– $4.50

The scone is on the slightly denser side, but bore a good and heavy butter flavour, almost lightly salted, which made the additional butter (yeah, I can be a bit excessive) and the glorious apple jam perfect to spread on top. I think choosing the cream would have made it even better. Warm, English comfort. It almost brought me back to the time I first tried a scone when I was living in London and my mother gave me a chunk, which I reluctantly accepted. I think everyone can agree that carbs are quite beautiful..?

Their espresso is acidic, which is to my taste, but not so to quite a many other. Down a shot for a morning or late afternoon perk.

So um, secret’s out.

One Man Coffee

215R Upper Thomson Road

Open daily 9am-5pm (closed Tuesdays)

6456 1555

Posted on March 18, 2014February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 1

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

alexcrumb

recipes, catering, creativity

alexcrumb

Tag: iphone

Pies and Coffee

Wimbly Lu Chocolates

Artistry

One Man Coffee

Gaest