Cinnamon sour cream coffee cake

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I delight in this cake for two reasons.

Firstly, it’s got this ridiculous cinnamon sugar crumble magic on top, and it was the hardest thing (well, not as hard as if I were to make brownies), to stop picking at the stuff. Secondly, the flavour eagerly showcases the use of sour cream, which I love, so it’s not too mild and airy-fairy like a typical sponge cake. It’s a slightly denser cake than normal, and goes wonderfully with even more sour cream or vanilla ice cream, perhaps topped with a dash of cinnamon and in this case, a good drizzle of manuka honey.

I adapted this recipe from Entertaining with Beth which can be found here. Made quite a few alterations because my first experiment with it yielded too dense a final result, the crumb not as tender as I hoped for. Cinnamon is the vice of Man. The earthy sweetness rounds off many other traditional flavour notes. I added a little brown sugar to the cake mix because the slight tinge of molasses goes well with the cinnamon filling in between the two layers, and changed the cinnamon filling and crumb topping recipe completely because the melted butter used in the original recipe just didn’t work as a nice streusel topping in this temple-banging, sun-raging weather. Curse this humidity.

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What I like best is how you don’t have to make two separate layers before getting down to some sandwich business- what’s one to do with just one 9-inch pan? We make easy for the world. Saving on some dishwashing liquid too, actually. Moving on.

 

Cinnamon Sour Cream Coffee Cake

 

For the cake:

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

115g salted butter at room temperature (unsalted is fine, just add more salt later)

2 room temperature eggs

half cup white sugar, half cup light brown sugar

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 1/2 teaspoons salt

1 1/2 cups sour cream (you may substitute this with Greek yoghurt, not anything low-fat or plain)

1 1/2 tablespoons vanilla extract

 

For the cinnamon filling and crumb topping:

1/3 cup packed dark brown sugar (this has a high molasses content and will thus yield a more earthy, sultry flavour, but light will work fine. You might have to add an extra tablespoon or so, though)

1/2 cup plain flour

3 teaspoons ground cinnamon (yum)

1/2 teaspoon fine salt

57g (4 tablespoons) cold, unsalted butter, cut into one-inch pieces. Stick this in the fridge right before use.

optional– chopped pecans/walnuts/almonds

 

You ready? I am. So. Dead. Easy.

Firstly, get all the dry stuff together. Then preheat your oven to 176 degrees C, or 350 degrees F, with the rack in the middle.

In a big bowl, cream together, either using an electric mix or your good old biceps and a sturdy whisk, the butter, two sugars and vanilla extract. Crack in the eggs one by one, whisking after each addition.

In another smaller bowl,  whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Fold the sour cream into your sugar-butter mixture (I almost said complex) halfway, then add the flour mixture. I switched to using a wooden spoon at this point. The resulting batter should be sticky, smooth pale yellow, with a thick dropping consistency. If it’s too thick, add 1-2 tablespoons whole milk, but careful as this might alter the final taste of your cake. Whatever you do, don’t overmix!

How easy was that? Grab and throw. Done and dusted.

Now for the lovely crumble. Mix together the flour, sugar and cinnamon, then get in there with your hands and rub in the cold butter. Slightly larger-than-normal clumps are ok. If you wish, add more or less cinnamon, and play around with chopped nuts. If you do so, chop them up finely so as to keep the traditional texture of a streusel.

Spray a 9-inch cheesecake pan with a removable bottom tin with cooking spray. Don’t overdo it or else you’ll risk making the bottom unnecessarily greasy. Turn out half the batter into the tin, then sprinkle half the cinnamon streusel on top. Turn out the remaining batter and sprinkle on the rest.

Bake the mixture in your preheated oven for 55 minutes, after which if you insert a wooden skewer it should emerge clean, with a few dry crumbs sticking to it. Remove the bottom tin and place on cake stand, and if you want to be all fancy, sprinkle on some icing sugar. Don’t be afraid of excess and lather on the sour cream and honey on a warm slice.

 

Ronin

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Ronin. By the same people of The Plain, which I adore wholeheartedly and should definitely put up a review for, and The Bravery. These guys love to show off the well-done industrial chic thing. And I appreciate their efforts. I really do.

I heard a little too much of this place, situated right on Hong Kong Street. I had no idea this place even existed. Is there Hong Kong in Singapore? Will I find it here? That was probably expecting a little too much. In my previous review of The Bravery Café, I was intrigued by the staunch industrial chic feel, and this feeling was brought to a maximum at Ronin. Once I stepped inside, I knew I had found something quite special. No, it’s not the sort of place where you can take well-lit photos and upload them all shamelessly. It’s dim, warmly lit, and on that particularly rainy day whereby my socks were soaked through and through (ugh), it was hard to see past the first half of the café.  To be frank, all the photos I saw of the place on Instagram almost put me off visiting– I thought it all too surreptitious, dim and perhaps a tad too pretentious. But knowing me… I’d do anything to find a good cup of coffee.

Cappuccino and latte–$4.20
Cappuccino and latte–$4.20

The Genovese blends they use will always have me coming back for more. And now I only wished I also ordered their special ‘Wicked Mocha’, which apparently comes with fudge on the bottom and a lively sprig of mint. I’m determined to return just to try it. My cappuccino was thick and frothy; a tad better than the one I had at the Bravery. One cannot expect consistency all the time, but this really impressed me and my coffee buds were set alight.

French toast with cooked apple, candied bacon, hazelnut-flavoured butter and maple syrup–$14 Scrambled eggs with sourdough, rye, bacon and portobello mushroom– $9+$3+$3
French toast with cooked apple, candied bacon, hazelnut-flavoured butter and maple syrup–$14
Scrambled eggs with sourdough, rye, bacon and portobello mushroom– $9+$3+$3


The french toast, the french toast. I asked for the maple syrup on the side, because I hate having my french toast drowned at first go. However, the server conveniently forgot and the toast was soaking in a too-generous pool of the stuff. Secondly, on behalf of both Liz’s and my later pleasure, I requested for an add-on of portobello, because I absolutely love a hulking mass of beefy, juicy portobello, and once again she forgot. Ah, one, two marks off. They were simple enough requests. This wasn’t off to a very good start. What I found slightly odd was how when my dish came, each slice seemed to have a ridge right along the edges, so that each could be split into half on the horizontal plane once again. My my, it was massive. The hazelnut-flavoured butter was a nice touch, though I feel they might as well have served it with real hazelnut butter, or almond butter, because now that I think of it, that would have paired quite wonderfully with the soaked brioche. The toast itself was lovely and squidgy on the inside, but didn’t undergo as much saturation of eggy batter as I would have liked. It was all a little too dense and just slightly above mediocre-good. I found myself reminiscing the time when I was sitting alone, having french toast at Stateland Café, which I thought had the most fluffy and bombastic interior. This was good french toast, but it failed to deliver the same outrageously fluffy and light consistency on the inside. The fat-marbled candied bacon and cooked apple were marvellous though, but somehow the maple syrup felt a little thick on the palate. More like a Grade A, I should hazard a guess.

The most impressive item, I must, must say, was the scrambled eggs. Because honest to God, I wasn’t expecting such a creamy, beautifully curdled, pale yellow mass such as this one. Each bite was wonderfully well-seasoned, and paired with the nicely toasted sourdough and rye, yielded a heavenly combination of hearty flavour. The portobello mushroom (which, yes, came later) was beautifully roasted and as juicy as a ripe tomato, bursting with beefy flavour on the inside. Best dish that morning.

I shall return for more, that is, if they actually remember specific orders next time round. This place is excellent if you’re looking to while away your time in a cosy and dimly-lit place, with a book in hand and creamy broth in the other. Come here for the heartiest of brunches, for sharing, for escape.

 

Rating: 4.5/5

Ronin

17 Hongkong Street

Tuesday – Sunday 8am-8pm

Carpenter and Cook

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Passionfruit Meringue Tart– $6.50

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Brain dead. Slow, lethargic. We trudged uphill. And lo and behold, we found the quaintest little hideout at Upper Bukit Timah. Felt like the queens of the hill, and frankly, all energy was restored soon after. Walking at least a mile in that heat was pretty worth it.

Did I say quaint? I said quaintest. The plates, the decor, the everything. I had been meaning to visit this place for at least a year and half, and finally I can announce I have been, and have eaten. Eaten what, exactly? Why, only some of the best tarts I have tried in the country. Starting off with this passionfruit meringue babe, one in their ‘The Queen of Hearts Tarts’ series. Yeah that’s right, they boast six different sorts of tarts to please the senses. One walks in and marvels at the Alice in Wonderland clocks and cutlery, but marvels even more at the quality of double-baked (yes!!) crusts. And I don’t mind double-baked crusts. Frankly, I prefer it. This tart sings with the zesty tang of passionfruit without letting it dampen the filling. Cutting into it was admittedly a little tough, with my fork splaying everywhere, but the surprise lay in the filling, which in contrast to the stout and hardy crust, was very moist and more runny than other fillings I have encountered. Silky, rich, topped with the prettiest dollops of sweet meringue.

And goodness, the lemonade. Fizzy, sweet, gorgeous, refreshing.

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chocolate sea salt caramel and lemon cream tarts– $6.50, lemon drizzle ‘Eat Me’ mini loaf– $5.00

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I couldn’t not try more babies. Saying it like that is horribly sadistic, but I really can’t find any other appropriate way to describe them. They are such… babies. Mini, petite, pretty, delicate. Too much so to be touched by even the most delicate of forks. And I am extremely, eternally grateful to my friend Liz’s mum for helping me buy them. I still feel a little embarrassed!

The lemon cream tart was my queen. Probably the best lemon tart I have tried so far.

Lemon anything is God-sent. I personally don’t know what would happen to me if I was deprived of this angel of a fruit. And I certainly felt like a queen eating it for breakfast this morning. Equals. The filling, contrary to popular belief, is not too sour at all, and perfectly complements the extraordinarily buttery and only mildly sweet crust. The sourness wasn’t let down by a dribbly consistency, but instead was spread evenly throughout a bright-hued, sacred pale yellow. Vivid and creamy. It’s hard to stop yabbering on about both shell and filling. It’s calling me.

Most everything about it was faultless, from the smooth and silky chocolate top and gooey, almost smoky caramel insides. Cut like butter with a mini fork. Ravishing. A little more salt and perhaps a more sophisticated grade of chocolate would be preferable, but overall, my, my.

The lemon drizzle cake is part of their ‘Eat Me’ loaf cake series, and other options include banana, pear almond and apple cobbler. As I have mentioned time and time again, lemon anything is irresistible. I couldn’t.. not. I was heavily impressed by this one in particular; the cake was of the right tart to sweet ratio, the inside was dense enough to pack in the perfect amount of flavour, light enough to hold the title of a posh fairy cake.  The icing was an uplifting experience, I swear.

The downside to all of this was the price. Let’s be real. I was extremely hesitant to pay more than 6 bucks for one minuscule tart, which might not have lived up to expectations. Considering this place was rather off-the-beaten track, and required quite a trek to get to, the prices incited a moderate degree of annoyance. Then again, they do make everything themselves and the quality is pretty unbeatable. They obviously take great pride in their work and efforts, although the service available could have been a tad more professional. I overheard one at the counter asking, in a rather audible tone, if some strange liquid in a cup ‘smelt like shit’. I could’ve said it, anyone could have said it. But right when I was eating a passionfruit meringue tart…?

If anything, go for their lemon-themes tarts or cakes. Those are certainly worth every bead of sweat. They also sell savoury dishes such as quiches, savoury brioche buns and make their own jams. I highly, highly recommend at least one visit!

 

Carpenter and Cook

19 Lorong Kilat (Upper Bukit Timah area)

6463 3648

Tues-Sat: 10am–10pm

Sun: 10am–7pm

Closed Mondays

Dark chocolate and sea salt on toast

No, this does not need a recipe. I’d just like to revel in the glory of two of my favourite things in the world– dark chocolate and toast. Just.

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I don’t think it’s right not to have this at least once in your life.

I bought a new loaf of campagne yuzu bread yesterday on impulse, because that thing looked too good to pass up. It just sat there, lonely, cold, at the display counter. How could I not?

Here is what you need:

  • your favourite bread, whatever that might be. Grab a white bloomer if that satisfies you!
  • couple squares good quality dark chocolate (70% is ideal)
  • sprinkle of coarse salt (I used pink Himalayan)
  • a toaster
  • I’ll stop here
  • too simple

I always have dark chocolate around. Somewhere. Anything less than 70% might just be child’s play, but nothing against that.

Literally take the chocolate, pop it on your favourite slice, slide into the toaster or broiler for 3 minutes until crusty and darkened. Sprinkle on pinch of coarse sea salt, before doing your business.

That’s all I have to say (!)

 

Salted Caramel Apple Cheesecake

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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.