Coconut Molasses Cake

Or The First Cake I Made In a Long Time During a Family Holiday, because it sounds 100 times more special that way.

A bit more than a while. That would be a good way to describe this period of absence. The air is heavy with moisture and the air con remote is a touch too far. Sweat is threatening to ruin the afternoon, but I’m learning to be ok with that again. The heat is foreign, but this is home. It has been too long since Home. Having just touched down here after a 10-day trip to New Zealand, it all does feel a little strange; the past couple of months have been saturated with train hopping and exploring more of the never-touched or heard or loved. From London to Germany to Austria and New Zealand. Never has a heart been so full or a conscience so sharp. I miss it, but Home is lovely and missed, too. Soon the plane will be calling again, and the suitcase will be bursting at the seams. Now? Now is for Here. And that means reminiscing the sweetness of the long gone with the pictures you see below, starting with Germany and ending with Queenstown. It’s a story starting with rustic pre-Christmas German charm, bellies warm with mulled wine and lips sweetened with lebkuchen (gosh I miss that so much already), then sun and adrenalin shaking up the frame in a town of all-smiles.

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In short, a whirlwind of a year. From travelling a lot more to publishing my first book, to more moments of simultaneous despondence and ecstasy, to meeting someone special, doubting and then hoping, and then ultimately trusting. I have my doubts, like those concerning the western world and North Korea and the circulation of science and technology in the hands of people most can’t will themselves to trust. But perhaps the silver lining is trust. A lot of hope is stabilised with just that– trust in oneself, in those who love you, in love itself.

11.49pm. 11 minutes to 2017, here in Singapore at least, and I sit here reminiscing bits and bobs and splatters of time, grateful for what has gone and what has to come. What exactly remains unsaid, and that’s the way it will always be. The most important thing is to be wild, be the best of yourself. As of now there is no standard list of resolutions, no I Will Be Fitter or even a I Will Be Better or I Will Stop Judging and Being a Bad Sister. Which sounds ridiculous, like I’m some downgraded version of yesteryears, the worst of all the possible Alex’s. But I see the new year as a chance to hone previously set goals, and to love what I love with even more fervour and passion. I want to continue the upkeep of this blog, to weave stories of food and knowledge and life and love and science. To understand, then create. To explore and wander.

The last morning in New Zealand came and I decided to make something simple but festive. A tribute to both Christmas and New Year’s, with a gold sparkle and kick.

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The top is crispy, the middle mottled with brown sugar, ginger, cinnamon and plenty of desiccated coconut. A bite takes you to a good middle state of longing and bliss– post-Christmas, Pre-NYE. This is perfect with coffee (or champagne, hey), a dollop of yoghurt of coconut cream, and more grated coconut on top.

11.59.

Coconut Molasses Cake

Ingredients

260g all-purpose flour

1 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp baking soda (alternatively, use self-raising flour and leave out the leavening agents)

pinch salt

160g sugar– 125g white and 35g soft brown sugar (subs: coconut/maple sugar)

1 tsp each of ginger and cinnamon (optional)

130g butter (sub: vegan butter/ Earth balance/ coconut oil)

120ml blackstrap molasses

120ml milk of choice (normal/plant-based)

100g (1 cup) desiccated coconut

2 eggs (sub: flax eggs– make one by mixing 1 tbsp flax with 2 tbsp water and letting sit for at least 5 minutes)

Directions

In a microwave, heat together the water and butter until both are melted. Preheat your oven to 200C (400F) and grease a 9×9 or 7×13-inch baking pan. In a bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, salt, ginger and cinnamon. Add the butter-water mix, then mix in the rest of the ingredients on the list. Bake in the preheated oven for 25-28 minutes, then take out and leave to cool for 10 minutes before cutting.

Serve with coconut cream or yoghurt, grated dark chocolate and more desiccated coconut.

Posted on December 31, 2016February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 0

Baked Sweet Potato Doughnuts (vegan) + Book Launch

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It has happened!!

It would be very hard to condense a bunch of profound emotions and thought trails into a single blogpost, and it doesn’t exactly help that even I haven’t properly digested the fact that something I wrote has been published and is available online for the whole world to see and buy. Yeah. CRUMBS, the book I’ve spent a substantial chunk of summer intensely working on, is now available on Amazon and Barnes &Noble! This is madness. This is redunkulous. You know it’s big when I use exclamation marks in blogposts, ha.

From my heart to your heart, from my kitchen to your table, from my oven to your oven. This is madness. There are over 40 pages of recipes, with multiple variations and detailed descriptions. Most have been modified from various sources, trimmed and personalised over more than 2 years of playing around with iPhone in hand, flour on my face, hopping about like a lunatic from oven to study desk just to check to check on a loaf of banana bread. All kept me going. Putting the book together has elucidated the nurturing, enlightening nature of solo fun in the kitchen, and I give a more personal account of my intentions and motivation regarding the writing process and recipe themes in the book itself. I am so grateful; none of this could ever have happened without a few key people who pushed me to do so regardless of what I thought. No, I always said. But the will emerged on top, and Crumbs was born. Watch out for a few more posts highlighting some book features and sneak-peeks. I mean, this blog itself is already a huge sneak peek, but there are some recipes in there that have been heavily revised and boosted for the book, for all of you.

A little present today, that’s by no means in Crumbs, but one so easy it deserves a place in the archives and not hurriedly scribbled in my notebook, inevitably forgotten and totally left behind.

Vegan sweet potato doughnuts. I laugh at the thought of me a few years ago, cursing the word ‘vegan’ and anything to do with that category, always of the opinion that ‘such’ self-imposed, rigid health standards did no one good, oblivious to the ethical and moral reasons behind the movement. After watching too many a documentary and educating myself only years later, I now admire the tenacity in word-spreading and lifestyle change, not talk alone. There is indeed justified meaning behind all this buckwheat, sweet potato, corn and quinoa. Not only is all of it delicious, it’s also good for us, the planet and, heck, the future. There will always be so much controversy in this field, but that’s human nature for you, and where’s the harm in contributing that little bit for generations to come?

Alright, the condensed milk icing on top obviously isn’t vegan, though you can always leave that little bit, and mix some nut milk and icing sugar together for a similar effect. As always, super easy to put together– literally a matter of plopping wet with dry, mix mix mix, spoon into doughnut pan (something I think you all should invest in if you haven’t already, for the luxury of quick doughnuts without the guilt of pouring litres of oil into a huge vat just to fry some for a few guests, though of course that’s also perfectly acceptable and I should indeed get round to listening to my own advice once in a while.)

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Definitely not your typical cakey baked doughnut, but just as delicious, especially if you’re into the whole chewy-gooey groove. Chewy-edged, tender and sweet in the middle. Imagine biting into a chewy date bar, but this time you get the characteristic sweet potato flavour, caramelised and starchy. Yessss.

Vegan Sweet Potato Doughnuts (with a not-so-vegan glaze if you wish)

Ingredients

1 medium sweet potato (a Japanese yam works well too, you will simply get a different colour result)

125g flour (I used a mix of plain and gluten-free, though you could use either or)

2 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp baking soda

pinch of salt

50g coconut sugar (or use plain white/brown)

100ml coconut, nut (almond, cashew) or rice milk

2 tbsp coconut oil

Directions

Preheat your oven to 200C and roast your sweet potato until tender, around half an hour. Leave the oven on but turn the temperature down to 177C after the sweet potato is done. Place the sweet potato in a bowl and mash it with the milk, salt and coconut oil. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, sugar. Tip the wet mix into the dry and mix until you get a fairly thick but moist consistency, Add drops of milk until you get to this stage if your mixture is too dry.

Bake for 12 minutes. There will be no obvious browning because there’s no typical Maillard reaction going on– the milk and sugars used in this vegan recipe don’t produce the same effect, and the colour of the sweet potato is rather overpowering. Leave to cool for two minutes before icing; as said before you can use a mix of nut milk and icing sugar before topping with flaked almonds (I like the texture variation with that shy crunch), or make like me and dip in condensed milk before the nut splatter.

Posted on October 21, 2016February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 3

Rare

Here’s an introduction not by me, but by one of my favourite people in the world. In other words, the dashing guy you see right above (: :

Nothing will ever beat meals cooked at home. There’s just something about food cooked by individuals for others in the comfort of their own home that gives it an edge over the most exquisite fare in top restaurants. It’s the warmth that breathes through a messy but lovingly made dish, the loud laughter echoing across the table and the comforting presence of close friends. Maybe it’s love.

I’m actually not sure what compelled me to ask for rare cuts. I would’ve gone straight for the bleu stage, but my parents were there and they would’ve sliced my fingers off. Living on the edge calls for some necessary sacrifice. Sometimes. The goo of that red meaty interior, the pairing of a rustic baguette, the cool crunch of beans bathed and massaged with a tender vinaigrette. Stick your knife in the wobbly belly of a slice, poke a few greens, layer it all on a bite of boule. Tossed together on the honesty of a white plate, made perfect over hours of talking and drunken merriment. That was easily the best part. An easy flow of musical conversation, booming voices and laughter to weigh down the aimless night air. It was all too spectacular, and all too comforting.

Last course: fromage platter. I put some blue on baguette (fanciful alliteration made all too appropriate here), and allowed the rich velvet to combine harmoniously with the fresh bread in my mouth. Crunch and cream. A galaxy of flavour. I could carry on talking about the humble and dazzling dishes, but I’m sure the pictures speak for themselves, and I’m not inclined to treat it all as a normal cafe or restaurant review. Needless to say, the experience of it all, with the company and ambience, overwhelms a breakdown of dish by dish statistics. They are no longer necessary in the golden entirety of such nights.

And it’s during nights like these when you can lay back with full satisfaction, heavy, blushing, dizzy with happiness. Because the best company on Earth is absolutely irreplaceable.

Posted on October 4, 2013February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 0

Human Categories?

Before I babble, a few favourites and faraway-summer-dreaming.

Dungarees bring back memories of England. I’d slide in the buckle and feel all countryside yet proper. Rustic warmth in denim fibres.

To the point.

So you see, I’m always laughing on the inside.

When I see a girl or boy on the street trapped in a bubble. Of the latest trends or ways of communication. Of happiness and nonchalance. Of bits and bobs of life’s seemingly finest. Polka dots and stripes and all the huppdeedoo patterns in between.

Of course, who am I to judge. They’re probably just like me or far greater under all that. They feel obliged to present themselves in such a manner and perhaps I myself am trapped in a bubble of dissonance and lowly curtness. I, Alex, The Psychotic Observer of this peaceful and harmonious world (well sometimes, especially after the Boston fiasco. My prayers reside amongst their graves, together with those in the Middle East. We tend to talk heavy on a western bias when it comes to death, don’t we?)

No, these people are probably not blindly following trends for the sake of doing so; that girl with 5 inches of make up, bright pink stilettos and purple peplum top might just have earned a PhD in economics at Harvard university.

Same goes for that round and soft human being hanging around corners in a baggy shirt with peace sign logos and jodhpurs. On the other hand, someone who looks the most smart or put together may not necessarily be just as so on the inside. This might sound as stupid as saying a girl eating a croissant isn’t always French, but then again, sometimes circumstance and context throw me off board, together with a human sentience and empathy threshold. Really, it does, and sometimes I’m plain embarrassed by it. Every day I walk past people I don’t know personally and immediately fasten them into categories; categories they might not even belong in or which they only feel inclined to be a part of due to selection pressures in the Great Social Survival.

I recall walking around with my dad at the Botanic Gardens and coming across a meek old man with stiff and oily silver locks half covering thick spectacles, which in turn gave his small eyes a demeaning glaze. He stopped for a while to adjust his stained brown running shorts. Sweat made his translucent singlet fully transparent, with some bits clinging to rather unflattering areas.

‘Hey, Prof!’ Dad walked over to Brown Man. The latter held his ground, his stare thoughtful and a tad crazed, if I might.

So. Professor and lecturer at NUS (National University of Singapore). Taught my dad in the 80s and still going strong. I could literally feel an outpouring of speechless respect and unknowing adoration from this selfish and judgmental soul of mine.

There was a huge barbecue party at my house once, thanks to an abundance of leftover charcoal from the robust remains of last year’s soiree (newly stocked!) An olive-skinned, gangly woman in her 30s or 40s came in looking every part the look-at-me Caucasian socialite. Her perfectly manicured fingernails could have killed a tiger cub. That crotch-skimming dress reeled in all the looks. All this whilst I was on my second serving of homemade tiramisu, hair a straggly mess. When I greeted her and offered some champagne, I must’ve looked like I was sprouting algae.

But oh wait, she’s only a doctor with a professional background in the Art of Violin Playing.

I guess my assumptions are my mistakes. Lesson learnt.

Posted on April 20, 2013February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 2

A Breaking Down of Days

ToTT, the all exalted kitchen wonderland

A series of baked experiments and starry-eyed dawns. With a few new buys and several bouts of angst or ecstasy. Dream journalling and paper perusing.

This ToTT place you see in the last picture above in the heart of Dunearn has all the most wonderful culinary equipment available known to man. Stocked up on ramekins, a stiff french whisk, French Food God Michel Roux’s book on all things eggs and goodness gracious lo and behold, a fine and hardy white hand-mixer. I took one look at its gleaming skin of fresh plastic and saw my name scribbled all over (for what on earth is sharing.) I’m the type who’d rather get down on my knees and scrub wood into dirt, but when it comes to something like omelette making, these things could make a ceramic plate fluffy.

The one downside: there was not one common non-stick baking spray. You can imagine how I scrutinised every shelf for one miserable spray can. The disappointment was mentally toxic.

Tried to hide the glowering response. That long, black, attractive face of mine.

But days.

You know.

Those things which melt and dissolve into months and years in shades of memory and perhaps a tinge of melancholy. Right, and you’re expected to have a better sense of self as the digits in your physical and mental age add up (or good heavens, multiply.)

Perhaps it’s the dim light and minor-key indie music that’s putting me in a disconcertingly nostalgic mood, the sort which leaves me feeling absolutely and utterly drained; not of life, but perhaps the present itself. When I merely can’t be bothered to pay attention to the common blusterings or happenings of the world around me and all that’s left are the tumultuous shadows of soft-edged memories and maybe even a little lament. Good lord, the past is pretty rousing in its shades of wondrous gold and somnolent greys.

‘Life is but a walking shadow’

Come on, March.

(I’d talk about the lovely March wind or accompanying emotions with glorified weather here but alas, that romantic aspect is much lacking in this ever-hot dredge.)

Posted on February 28, 2013February 21, 2022 by alexcrumb 2

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recipes, catering, creativity