Chocolate Banana Mascarpone Sandwich

Sundays can be more magical than you ever think them to be.

A quickie, because I want you to make it now, or at least soon, before the magic of what you see above dissipates. Chocolate and banana is a sworn classic, at least to me anyways, and this sandwich has all the goods and more. I wouldn’t call it ‘chocolate and cheese’, because that juxtaposition looks and sounds sacrilegious, because I might as well say ‘chocolate and cheddar’ and make you all gag.

Saturday night made me too pink from the drink. With a late start on Sunday, something easy but lush was much needed. Thrown together in haste, but well astonished afterward. I must thank the gooey, perfect, sinful result of melting chocolate, mascarpone and gooey ripe banana mashed between commercial brioche.

Easy sin.

Chocolate Banana Mascarpone Sandwich (serves 1)

Directions

Heat a pan on medium high heat and ready a generous knob of butter. On one slice of brioche, spread a thick layer of chocolate spread (nutella/chocolate peanut butter/chocolate spread) and layer on slices of banana. On the other slice, spread a thick layer of mascarpone, and then layer on either one big square of dark chocolate or many small chunks of chocolate. Sandwich the slices together. Place butter in preheated pan, spread around a little, then place one side of the sandwich on the hot pan. Leave for 2 minutes, then flip to cook the other side. The surface should be a golden-brown.

Slice on the diagonal (it’s a rule), admire the oozing chocolate and then bite right into the middle while still hot and moist.

Rustic Grape Tart

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It feels as if I’m caught in a storm right now, papers flying everywhere, head quite the mess. I told myself I’d buckle down 110% (those same words!) today, and yet, I feel a strong sense of guilt as I look over all my past recipe posts, the embodiment of one of my main passions in life. It’s funny because I actually read an excellent article on procrastination in the papers today; and yet, I don’t see this as a form of such a term, but more so a physical and mental extension of what I love wholeheartedly. It’s small things like the juxtaposition of fruit and custard cream which to be are akin to that of life and love, or books and work, or friends and family.

This grape tart, as you can see above, is not perfect. The shell has shrunk, the grapes aren’t all luscious and plump, but it is through these imperfections that I am willing to share what I’ve learnt to bolster your own attempt in the kitchen. The shrunken shell is my fault really, because I failed to spread the baking beans evenly during the blind baking process. That, together with the fact that I sort of wanted the whole rustic appeal of pseudo-slipshod work. Hey, it’s a tart!

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The pastry is abominably crisp, the sort which shatters and melts in your mouth real quick. And I have only recently discovered just how darn easy pastry cream is to make, and I used a simple recipe which yields a smooth and decadent texture and flavour. I attempted to keep cooking the cream until it was thick, and thus hold itself better in the fridge, or when cut through with a knife during serving. If possible, use fresh, thick grapes, which I unfortunately didn’t have on hand at that point in time (hence the tiny little blobs you see pictured!) Since I was trying out my new fluted rectangular tart tin, I was forced to leave out a significant amount of crust, but it would also be perfect in a round 9-inch pie tin.

Rustic Grape Tart

Ingredients

For shortcrust pastry:

157g all-purpose flour

125g cold, unsalted butter, cut into cubes

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon sugar

2-3 tablespoons water

For pastry cream:

355ml whole milk (around 1.5 U.S. cups)

2 egg yolks

68g white castor sugar

1 tablespoon cornstarch

1/2 tablespoon all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

optional: zest of half a lemon and a splash or brandy/cognac

For the topping:

around 100g of grapes, cut in half (or you can cut as you fill the top, after pouring in the pastry cream)

2-3 tablespoons grape/apricot jam, warmed in the microwave for a minute or so

Make the pastry. It’s extremely versatile and can be used for things like quiches and other sweet or savoury tarts as well. My mum uses it all the time for her savoury wild mushroom and blue cheese quiche. Anyways. Freeze the cubed butter for at least a half hour. If you’re using a food processor, combine flour, salt and sugar, and pulse to mix. Add the butter and pulse around 6-8 times until the mixture resembles a course meal with pea-sized pieces of butter. Add the iced water, 1 tablespoon at a time, pulsing until the mixture just begins to clump together. The dough should hold together when pinched lightly. If you’re just using your good old hands and a bowl, rub the cold butter into the flour mix, rubbing across the knuckles, and quickly, so the heat doesn’t melt the butter at a faster rate. Continue until you get the aforementioned result. Remove dough from machine/bowl and place on a clean work surface. Shape into a disk and wrap with cling film. Refrigerate for at least an hour, and up to 2 days (so you can make this way ahead of time, hoorah).

When ready to use, remove the disc and leave on the counter for around 10 minutes, just to soften a little. Roll out on a lightly floured surface with a rolling pin, according to the size of the tart tin you are using. For my own rectangular one, I rolled it out to around 9×11 inches, around 1/8-inches thick, so there could be sufficient dough hanging over the edges. Press the dough into your tin (no need to grease) and press down so it reaches all the corners and sides. Trim the edge, leaving about 1/2 an inch excess from the edges. Put the crust in the fridge for around 10 minutes and preheat the oven to 177C (350F). Line the chilled crust with parchment/wax paper and fill with pie weights. Bake for 20 minutes in the oven. Remove to cool for a few minutes. Remove the weights, poke the bottom with little holes and return to oven for another 10 minutes. Cool completely before adding any filling.

During the baking time, make the custard. In other words, the most fun part! In a saucepan, medium or large, over medium heat, warm the whole milk until it comes to a simmer. Whilst waiting for that, whisk the eggs, sugar, cornstarch, optional alcohol and lemon zest, flour and vanilla in a bowl. Whisk a little of the hot milk into the egg mixture, and then slowly, very slowly, whisk the slightly tempered egg mixture into the rest of the milk, constantly stirring. Continue to stir for around 3-5 minutes, until the mixture thickens and you have what rightly resembled a luscious, thick custard. It will be a fine, pale yellow, which leaves a slightly slimy trace when you sneak a lick off the back of your wooden spoon. Remove from the heat and let it cool for around half an hour.

Once cool, spread the custard onto the pie shell. Cut up your grapes and assemble them, cut-side down, onto the cream. It will take a while, yes, but it’s absolutely worth it in the end. Place your gorgeous little tart in the fridge, and cover with plastic wrap. Just before serving, warm some jam in a saucepan over light heat or in the microwave for a few minutes. Brush over little butts of grapes, remove from the tin and prepare yourself for a light and slightly unorthodox dessert.

Who doesn’t love grapes.

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

Pietrasanta the Italian Restaurant

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Can I be completely honest here? I’m not one who would willingly live my life on pizza and pasta. Italian food is magnificent; its rustic and hearty authenticity can awaken the dead and magnetise them back to wooden tables by a fire on a cold night, the red-and-white checkered tablecloths abound with bruschetta and coarsely-cut garlic bread and moon-sized pizzas just for extra hearty assurance.

I’ll start off with that tomato sauce starter there. A little cup of salty heaven, looking down on all Ketchup-derived descendants around the world. Dip a little bit of bread in it, or drink it straight. Shot or slow, that’s up to you. I like to dip my finger in every now and again. That’s just me.

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Margherita (Italian mozzarella with basil leaves in tomato sauce)- $16.90

Prosciutto E Funghi (Italian mozzarella, cooked ham and button mushrooms in tomato sauce)- $18.90

The pomodoro pasta you see at the top was a special request by the kids, otherwise they usually only serve lasagna, a hefty portion of beautiful noodle and melting, sweet meat. The pizzas are all thin-crust but burst with the appropriate flavours with each bite. Tomato comes through like the shining opera singer, but doesn’t crack any windows. I prefer the funghi version, only because less cheese and more fungi (how weird do I sound) is my thing. The whole idea of button mushrooms usually turns me off, but its bouncier, firmer texture as opposed to something like shitake or chanterelle worked superbly with the melting cheese and tomato.

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Zappa Di Pesce (Fresh seafood soup) –$15.90

Italian tomato, rocket and parma ham salad– $14.90

Burrata and smoked scamorza– not sure of the price as this was a simple, special request

Squid ink fettuccine with crab meat sauce– $20.90 (In other words, my favourite dish)

Home-made fettuccine with sausage and truffle– $24.90

Now then. Would you LOOK at that burrata? It’s hard to get something produced fresh and seasonal wrong, but God, they never go wrong with the burrata. Cold, pure and oozing like uncontrollable organ spillage. I should seriously reconsider food blogging with my abhorrent descriptions. But honestly, it’s actually one of the most beautiful things in the universe, coupled with good balsamic vinaigrette, olive oil and ripe Italian tomato. Parma ham if you want, but let’s not forget to worship the purity of that bone-white baby burrata.

If it wasn’t for the heady richness the sausage fettuccine offered, I would say that it would be the best of the lot. But the lolling tongues of fettuccine and achingly creamy sauce served to appease much of the obesity resistance movement of my stomach, and it just gets too much after about 5 minutes. The squid ink, on the other hand, is lighter, but darker, if you know what I mean. A decadent smorsgabord of savoury umami flavour, grounded by the honest humility of an experienced pasta maker. Homemade, they say? Homemade it really is.The crab meat is the best part, juicy and chunky, and makes for a nice break when you’re not looking in your lady’s mirror desperately scrubbing away at your blackened teeth.

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A mash up of my uncle’s Ossobucco con gremolada (four-hour braised veal shank–$32.90) and Risotto Porcini (risotto with porcini, saffron and bone marrow–$23.90)

If you know me well, I prefer the supposedly icky gelatinous bits and bobs of an animal to the meat itself- bone marrow, fish eyes, blubber, cartilage, fat trimmings, you name it, I’ll have it. I’m basically the hopeless bottom feeder. The tender braised meat is absolute divinity, and it paired wonderfully (surprisingly too, for the pairing was spontaneous, I tell you that) with the rich, aromatic risotto, yellow, fat, plump little pearls. Al dente, with an almost smoky air about it.

And lastly, tiramisu. I’m not associating a price with it, because, well, tiramisu. I don’t think this is the best around, for the sponge could have done with a more luxurious and thorough caffeine and rum spa. A little dry, a little too sweet. The cocoa was decadent, but didn’t mask a less-than-rich interior.

Reliable Sunday lunch resort.

Rating: 4.8/5

Pietrasanta

5B Portsdown Road
#01-03 Singapore 139311
Tel: +65 6479 9521