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An entremets primer: Japanese cult pastry chef Hidemi Sugino’s Fruits Rouges

I first discovered Japanese mousse cake savant, Hidemi Sugino (along with many of his other fans within the blogosphere, it seems) through Keiko’s gorgeous blog. I found myself repeatedly returning to her beautifully precise renditions of his recipes in Le goût authentique retrouvé. And when I finally had the opportunity to taste the master’s work in Tokyo, I was enthralled by the lightness of his creations, as well as the subtle and sophisticated layering of complementary and contrasting flavours. They were simply the best mousse cakes I’d ever tasted (here’s Nick’s superb dissection of some of Sugino’s entremets). I promptly bought a copy of Le goût authentique retrouvé on that fateful first visit in 2007—disregarding the fact that the recipes were all in Japanese. I somehow figured that I would be able to decipher them based upon the ingredients listed in French despite the fact that I don’t speak French either! Continue Reading →

Family Food: Savoury Rosemary-Parmesan Mini Madeleines

This is one of those recipes that I reckon works for both papa and toddler. I’m constantly trying to find snacks for T (and CH) that aren’t packed with sugar. These savoury madeleines from Patricia Wells—inspired by Anne-Sophie Pic of the century-old Maison Pic in Valence, no less—fit the bill. They are an easy-to-make treat that T can’t get enough of.

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Pierre Herme’s Sweet Tart Dough

Pierre Herme needs no introduction. He is one of France’s preeminent pastry chefs and possibly one of the most recognized names in the business. I wouldn’t imagine myself ever coming close to replicating the lovely creations he stocks his eponymous boutiques with, but when we plan our dinner party menus, I frequently find myself dipping into Desserts by Pierre Herme and Chocolate Desserts by Pierre Herme, the two books he co-authored with Dorie Greenspan. The recipes range from simple to elaborate, with flavours that are accessible, yet sophisticated. But what I love most is the fact that the recipes are detailed and precise. They work. They reflect Pierre Herme’s innovations, tweaks and personal preferences as a pastry chef. Personally, they exhibit a flavour profile that also appeals to me. The bitterness of chocolate (Pierre prefers Valrhona) isn’t masked with too much sugar. His pastry dough celebrates the glorious flavour of good butter. His simple lemon cream is irresistible when paired with his sweet tart dough. Yet, he doesn’t take himself so seriously as to eschew the use of Nutella in a tart.

Over the past couple of months, I’ve been working my way through a series of his tarts. Each successful attempt has made me an ever bigger fan. Most recently, for a group of chocolate lovers (including a friend who retails the stuff himself), I picked the Tarte Grenobloise. Pierre’s rethinking of this classic, as Dorie explains it, is influenced by the all-American pecan pie. A chocolate-almond pate sable tart shell is filled with chocolate ganache and topped with pecans enrobed with caramel. It was rich and heavy, but I certainly relished the tiny, cold wedge of leftovers I polished off the following day! It actually benefitted from chilling and would’ve been perfect washed down with a cold glass of milk. (Keep reading)

Julia Child’s braised goose with chestnut and sausage stuffing

On Christmas Eve last year, as we were picking up a prime rib at Huber’s for the lunch we were hosting the following day, I espied a goose in the poultry section. For some inexplicable reason, I decided that I had to have it and that at some point between Christmas and New Year’s, I would prepare a menu with goose as its centerpiece. Mind you, up to that point, I’d never cooked goose. I didn’t even have a recipe in mind. CH looked at me as if I was insane and must have put it down to jetlag. Nonetheless, accommodating as he usually is when it comes to matters of the belly, he made no objection as I hauled the just-under-5kilogram bird into our shopping basket.

Cooking the goose turned out to be an enterprise of epic proportions, but it was a delightful indulgence spread over a number of days which was well worth the effort. It is by no means a dish to be prepared on a whim (despite the fact that I acquired said bird on a whim). You need to have the luxury of time–especially if you plan on serving other dishes with it. I’d liken the process to reading War and Peace. Fortunately, I actually take great pleasure in wading through epic novels. (Keep Reading)

Mango sorbet & coconut ice cream

When we were in Jakarta two weeks ago, some lovely friends of ours gave us a boxful of mangga gedong (which happened to be in season) to take home with us. While mangga harum manis is famously sweet, the relatively smaller mangga gedong packs a heady punch. It is not only sweet and juicy, but irresistibly perfumed. The ripe fruit has vibrant, orange skin and flesh, and smells simply heavenly. We shared the bulk of our stash with friends and ate as many as we could just chilled and sliced. But at the end of a week, we were still left with over half a dozen delightfully ripe fruit. Inspired by Keiko’s gorgeous post (and the blistering heat), I decided to use our mangoes in a sorbet.

David Lebovitz’s recipe in The Perfect Scoop (a tome I have raved about previously) is fabulously simple. I will give an adapted and abbreviated description of it below, but I highly recommend buying the book — especially since the toasted coconut ice cream he suggests that we pair the sorbet with is absolutely divine. I can’t think of a better way of capturing the gastronomic glory of ripe mangga gedong. The sorbet tastes like smooth spoonfuls of frozen fruit and dazzles with its brazen tropical hue. I’m tempted to serve it in a glass of icy cold Prosecco or with a shot of kaffir lime-infused vodka.

As for the coconut ice cream, its subtle coconut flavour comes from infusing milk and cream with toasted, unsweetened dried shredded coconut (I used some from Bob’s Red Mill). A vanilla pod and splashes of homemade vanilla extract (a treasured gift from our dear friend Melissa) give it an added depth and dimension. Best of all, the French style (or custard-based) ice cream doesn’t taste overly rich or heavy. It is now my favourite coconut ice cream recipe! Now, if I can locate a website that will deliver a wooden cone-rolling form to Singapore, I’ll try out David’s ice cream cone recipe.

Mango Sorbet
Adapted from A Perfect Scoop by David Lebovitz
Makes 1 litre

1kilogram peeled and deseeded ripe mangoes, roughly diced
130grams sugar
160millilitres water (I used Fiji Water because it tastes so clean)
8 teaspoons freshly squeezed kalamansi juice (This is a lime indigenous to the Philippines. It has a distinct sweet tartness to it.)
2 tablespoons dark rum
Pinch of salt

Combine the ingredients in a blender and puree until smooth (add more lime juice and/or rum to taste). Chill the mixture then freeze it in your ice cream machine.

Tagliatelle al ragù alla Bolognese

What do you cook when the person you delight in sharing the pleasures of the table with most isn’t with you? Sardines on toast, baked beans on toast, cheese on toast—you get the idea. I actually lose my appetite when CH isn’t around. The only thing that inspires me to get into the kitchen when he’s away is the prospect of cooking the meals that we will share when he returns. This accounts for the supply of duck leg confit, pork prime rib and Italian sausage stew, and home made stocks crowding our refrigerator and freezer right now. This past week, I had a craving for home made pasta, but going through all that trouble for just one person didn’t make sense given that I was also juggling a bunch of projects at work.

Nonetheless, the prospect of having home made pasta some time in the near future kept me going. I decided to attempt Giuliano Bugialli’s tagliatelle al ragù alla Bolognese because I love tomato-based pasta sauces, but CH doesn’t (he prefers his sauces cream-laden). Bugialli’s ragù offers a happy marriage of both. It also reminds me of a similar sauce the original chefs at La Smorfia on Purvis Street served in their seafood spaghetti when they first opened (sadly, this great restaurant is now long gone). It also gave me the opportunity to pull out my new KitchenAid meat grinder for a spin. It is truly easy to use as long as you remember to cut the meat into long strips that will fit easily into the feeding chute. Semi-freezing the meat makes it easier to cut into strips and freezing the strips after that also makes grinding them easier.

It took significantly longer to prepare this dish than the spaghetti Bolognese I used to make as a university student (back then, my taste preferences were limited to Dolmio’s), but I must declare that it was well worth the effort. The blend of ground bacon (it was easier to find than pancetta and prosciutto), pork and beef provided a tasty mix of richness, smokiness and subtle meatiness. The long, slow-cooking made it tender and moist. And the inclusion of stock and cream tempered some of the astringency (if one can describe it as that) of the tomatoes in the sauce. In all, it tasted like an enthusiastic welcome home to me. I hope CH thinks so too! (He’s actually standing behind me, reading this over my shoulder, nodding vigorously; he had some for lunch today and he said it was “awesome!”)

Tagliatelle al ragù alla Bolognese
Adapted from Bugialli on Pasta by Giuliano Bugialli
6-8 hearty portions

For the tagliatelle
615grams (4 cups) unbleached all-purpose flour
5 extra-large eggs
Pinch of salt

For the ragù alla Bolognese
200grams pancetta or prosciutto in one piece (I made do with bacon)
400grams stewing beef cubes
400grams stewing pork cubes
2 medium onions, peeled
2 medium-size carrots, peeled
2 celery stalks
115grams unsalted butter
4 tablespoons olive oil
800grams canned tomatoes (about 2 cans), preferably Italian, drained
1 cup dry white wine
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Freshly grated nutmeg
1½ cups warm beef broth (preferably home made)
1½ cups heavy cream (preferably organic)

To serve
55grams unsalted butter
Freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano

Prepare the tagliatelle with the ingredients and quantities listed and following the instructions here. Stretch the dough to 1/16 inch thick (take it to the next to last setting on your pasta machine). Cut into tagliatelle approximately 15 inches long using the wider cutter on your machine.

Place the pancetta (or prosciutto or bacon), beef and pork in the freezer. When they are semi-frozen, cut them into narrow strips. Then freeze the strips. This will make them easier to grind. Coarsely grind the meat all together in a meat grinder or mince with a knife. Set aside.

Finely chop the onions, carrots, and celery stalks. Heat the butter and oil in a heavy-based pot (I like using enameled cast-iron) over medium heat. When the butter has melted and the oil mixture is warm, add the chopped vegetables and the ground meats. Sauté for 10 minutes stirring occasionally with a wooden spoon.

Press drained canned tomatoes through a food mill (using the disk with the smallest holes) into a bowl made of non-reactive material (such as glass). Don’t include the liquid that the tomatoes are steeped in because it will leave you with too much moisture in your sauce.

Add the wine into the pot and let it evaporate for 5 minutes. Add the tomatoes and simmer for 20 minutes. Season to taste with salt, pepper and nutmeg then add the beef broth (I cheated by using beef jus from Swiss Butchery). Cover the pot and simmer for 45 minutes, stirring occasionally with a wooden spoon. Add the cream, mix very well, lower the heat and reduce uncovered for 25 minutes.

When ready to serve, bring a large pot of water to a boil. Add salt to taste when the water reaches a boil and cook the tagliatelle for 1 to 3 minutes (depending on how dry the pasta is).

Place the butter in a large, warmed serving platter and sit it over the pot of boiling water to melt the butter. When ready, drain the pasta and transfer it to the platter. Mix very well with the melted butter then pour the sauce over it (this may be too much sauce for the amount of tagliatelle made, any leftovers can be frozen). Mix and serve immediately with freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano on the side.

Conehead

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We recently received a reviewer’s copy of Service Included: Four-Star Secrets of an Eavesdropping Waiter written by Phoebe Damrosch. Phoebe was part of Per Se’s opening team and her charming memoir offers an amusing peek at the goings-on behind the scenes of a high-profile restaurant opening. The sweet coming-of-age, romantic tale makes for engaging light reading and I zipped through most of the book on a couple of short-haul flights I had to take lately.

Early on in the book, the author talks about being interviewed for a position at Per Se and being grilled about Thomas Keller’s cookbook. Her interviewer offers her a little piece of advice. He tells her not waste time trying to make Keller’s famous cornets because they break easily, i.e. they’re ridiculously delicate. The salmon cornets appear as the very first recipe in The French Laundry Cookbook and are also the first things guests are served at both of Keller’s high-end establishments. Naturally, Damrosch promptly tries to make the cornets, despite not having the stencil, moulds and Silpats called for in the recipe. The results are disastrous but make for very good and humourous reading. (She does attempt the recipe again later, after acquiring the requisite tools, and manages to produce a couple of usable cones.)

Inspired by her hilarious tale, I attempted the recipe too. The fabulous thing about The French Laundry Cookbook is that while its recipes are ridiculously elaborate, if you have the time and patience to follow them, you do end up with pretty tasty dishes. I have to admit that while Phoebe deviated from the actual recipe (making do with whatever she had), I followed the instructions religiously (that’s just the way I am; CH calls me “anal” but I still love him). Despite this, I still managed to screw up the first batch because I baked them for too long before I rolled them. But with a little patience, I did eventually end up with exactly 24 usable cones. Our guests enjoyed them so much (CH made his trio of tuna tartares to go into them) that we decided to make them again. This time around, we opted to serve just one cone per person (because I don’t have a death-wish) and filled it with CH’s salmon tartare. Yum! This recipe isn’t for the faint-hearted, but the pleasure your guests are bound to get from tasting these bite-sized bits of fun more than makes up for it.

Service Included goes on sale in the United States on 25 September 2007.

Cornets
Adapted from a recipe from The French Laundry Cookbook by Thomas Keller
Makes approximately 24

¼ cup plus 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon caster sugar
1 teaspoon kosher salt
4 ounces unsalted butter, softened but still cool to the touch
2 large egg whites, cold
2 tablespoons black sesame seeds

First, you’ll need to create a circular stencil. I cut a square of thick plastic from a folder and cut out a 4-inch circle (you throw the circle away). You will also need (ideally) two Silpats that fit into two baking sheets, and cornet moulds (I bought mine at Phoon Huat).

Preheat the oven to 200 degrees Celsius (400 degrees Fahrenheit).

In a medium bowl, mix the flour, sugar and salt together. In a separate bowl, whisk the softened butter until it is completely smooth and mayonnaise-like in texture. Given the heat in Singapore and in my kitchen, I found it easiest to whisk the butter in my KitchenAid. Using a stiff spatula or spoon, beat the egg whites into the dry ingredients until completely incorporated and smooth. Whisk in the softened butter by thirds, scraping the sides of the bowl as necessary and whisking until the batter is creamy and without any lumps. Transfer the batter into a smaller container (this will make it easier to work with).

I’ve found it useful to refrigerate the batter for 10 minutes before I use it (again, this may be due to the fact that I work in a really hot kitchen).

Place the stencil in one corner of the Silpat. Scoop some of the batter (I use a smidgen more than a level teaspoonful) and spread it in an even layer over the stencil. An offset spatula is useful for the spreading process. Run the spatula over the stencil to remove any excess batter. This takes practice and patience, but it isn’t rocket science. Lift the stencil and repeat the process (leave 1½ inches between the cornets). I find that I can only handle four circles at a time. You might wish to work with more. Sprinkle each cornet with a pinch of sesame seeds.

Place the Silpat on a heavy baking sheet and bake for 4-6 minutes or until the batter is set and you see it rippling from the heat. I stopped looking at the clock after awhile. You’ll learn to work out when it’s ready simply by looking at them. The cornets do ripple at the edges and you want them to have a crepe-like pliability when you take them out.

Remove the pan from the oven and flip the cornets with a spatula. Roll each cornet around a mould to create a cone. To do this, place the tip of the cone at the lower left edge of the cornet, roughly at 7 o’clock on a clock face. Fold the bottom of the cornet up and around the mould and carefully roll upwards. It should remain on the sheet pan as you roll. Repeat with the rest of the cornets. Roll each one as quickly as you can because the metal moulds conduct heat rapidly and you’ll burn your fingers. Arrange the rolled cornets seam side down on the sheet pan.

Return the cornets, still wrapped around the moulds, to the oven and bake for another 3 to 4 minutes to set the seams and colour the cornets a golden brown. Remove the cornets from the oven and allow them to cool slightly. Remove the cornets from the moulds and cool on paper towels. Repeat with the rest of the batter. Be sure to let the Silpat and baking sheet cool before using them again.

The cornets can be stored for up to two days in an airtight container.

Canine comfort food

It seems like all the dogs in my life are currently not in the pink of health. Just before we left for our month-long trip, Brando, my longhaired mini-dachshund god-dog (yes, I’m referred to as his “Auntie Mom”) suffered from a nasty back problem and had to get an emergency operation. It was heart-wrenching seeing him at the animal hospital, crying from fear and pain. I had decided, then, to bake him some peanut butter cookies to cheer him up (if you’re a regular reader of J’s blog, you’ll realise that Brando is a bit of a canine foodie) and picked up the ingredients I needed at an organic store. But a whole bunch of things got in the way of my baking.

Now, many weeks later, our much-better-suited-to-a-temperate-climate golden retrievers have come down with a nasty case of scabs. The poor things have been shaved and now look like sad, skinny, shorn sheep. Sascha, the vainer of the two, spends her days looking mournfully at her reflection in our bedroom mirror. She also has an icky spot on her front left paw that she has been licking. So to add insult to injury, we have had to cover that one paw with a dog bootie. She is a rather strange sight to behold. Of course, being the unsympathetic parents that we are, we’ve taken to calling her “Michael Jackson”. Unfortunately, Sascha doesn’t see the humour in that. In fact, she has taken to giving me decidedly dirty looks.

With two moping dogs in my apartment and another one slowly regaining the use of his back legs upstairs, I felt that it was time to make some time to bake those peanut butter cookies. To be honest, they took very little time to make. I mixed the dough just before I went to bed, and popped the cookies in the oven the following evening. However, I was rather amused that as they baked, Chubby Hubby kept commenting on the delicious peanutty aroma that filled our apartment. He was very upset that I didn’t make him a batch with sugar in them.

These little pick-me-ups are my way of giving my favourite pooches some edible hugs while they are recovering from their various boo-boos. I hope your dogs enjoy them too!

Poochie peanut butter pick-me-ups
Makes 70 cookies

230 grams whole wheat flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
260 grams natural peanut butter
1 cup (225millilitres) milk

Combine the flour and baking powder in a large mixing bowl. Whisk to combine.

In a separate bowl, combine the peanut butter and milk. Whisk until evenly combined. It should have the texture of a thick milkshake.

Add the peanut butter and milk mixture to the dry ingredients. Mix well and knead until it becomes a uniformly mixed ball of dough. Wrap tightly with clingfilm and refrigerate overnight.

Working with half of the dough at a time, roll it out on a lightly floured surface to a 6-7 centimetre (1/4 inch) thickness. Using a 4-centimetre wide cookie cutter, cut out shapes. Roll the dough scraps together and repeat. Continue rolling and cutting the remaining dough. As you cut the cookies, place them on a baking tray. Freeze them for 15-20 minutes.

Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 200 degrees Celsius (I use the oven fan when I bake these cookies).

Place the cookies about 2 centimetres apart on a lined baking sheet. Bake them for 10 minutes or until they are lightly browned. Cool them on a rack before storing them in an airtight container.

Green salad

It’s unquestionably green, although I’m not quite sure why it’s called a salad. Our dear friend D has often spoken of his paternal grandmother’s green salad. It is something that his family serves at every Thanksgiving and Christmas meal. The subject first came up a few years ago when we discussed the idea of organizing a potluck meal where each guest would contribute a dish that was a family specialty or part of a family tradition—something that we looked forward to eating on special occasions. I have to confess that when D described the green salad of his childhood (a combination of lime jelly, pineapple, whipped cream, mini marshmallows and cheddar cheese), I wasn’t particularly enthused by the thought of tasting it.

Our plans for that particular potluck meal fell through, but D had emailed his mom for the recipe and bought a box of lime Jell-O—the main ingredient in green salad. (I have since discovered that lime Jell-O can be difficult to find in Singapore. D insists that it has to be made with Jell-O and no other brand.) When D moved back to the US in late 2004, he left me with his box of Jell-O and a copy of his mom’s recipe wrapped around it, promising that he would return to make me his favourite green salad before the stuff expired in October 2005. Unfortunately, he didn’t. Or rather, he returned but never got around to making it.

His email print-out has sat in my recipe notebook for three years. While I wasn’t too crazy about the idea of the salad, I enjoyed reading his mom’s recipe and her careful deconstruction of cookbook recipe-speak (including descriptions of what “soft-peaks” and “fold” mean). To me, her recipe and D’s green salad capture the essence of what makes food so special: love. By that, I mean the unspoken affection that goes into preparing it and that grows out of receiving or savouring it. We tasted his green salad last Saturday. (By the way, even though it’s called salad, it’s a dessert.) My taste buds couldn’t quite get around the cheddar cheese, but I did finally get it. This wasn’t so much a gastronomic epiphany as it was an emotional one. It was akin to tasting someone’s memory and that can sometimes be much more special than tasting truffles or caviar.

The whipped cream tempered the sugariness of the jelly and the airiness of both the marshmallows and cream gave the dessert a mousse-like quality. Crushed pineapple took the edge off the brash lime flavouring and the cheddar brought a dairy richness and subtle savoury accent to the combination. I’ve noticed that most other recipes for green salad or holiday green salad call for cream cheese. The addition of cheddar may have been D’s grandma’s innovation. D’s green salad reminded me of a similarly flavoured ice lolly (minus the cheese) that my school friends often ate and prompted me to think of tuckshops and giggling schoolgirls. It also awoke my own dormant weakness for Bird’s Custard poured over cooked fruit (something I developed an affection for after having eaten a year’s worth of English school lunches as a young child). This may not be a sophisticated dish, but it hits a very specific sentimental spot.

More importantly, it is a dessert that will be added to my list of D’s favourites (alongside pecan pie and pumpkin pie). While I am constantly blown away by intricate and exotic dishes, oftentimes, it is the simplest ones that seem most genuine in their expression of a cook’s love. To know what your loved ones take the greatest pleasure in eating requires an intimate understanding of who they are deep inside. It thrills me when our friend BG wolfs down home made coleslaw and steamed chocolate pudding or when N continues to rave about the pork belly I once served him because it reminded him of a dish he ate as a child. I know that a simple steamed custard filled with minced pork (but not the lean stuff sold at supermarkets) and salted duck egg yolks or his mom’s banana cake makes my husband happy. I reckon that in the long run that’s what matters most.

Green Salad
Serves 6-8

6oz package of lime Jell-O
2 cups mini marshmallows
1 can (8oz) crushed pineapple in heavy syrup (I couldn’t find crushed pineapple and substituted it with a 567gram can of pineapple chunks. The chunks need to be finely diced.)
1 cup heavy whipping cream
½ cup or less grated cheddar cheese (I have to confess I omitted this in mine.)

Pour 1 cup of boiling water over the lime Jell-O. Stir until the Jell-O dissolves (a little over a minute). Stir in the marshmallows, pineapple and the liquid in the can. I did this in a large glass measuring jug.

Chill the mixture until it is soft-set. It should be very thick. I’ve seen other recipes state that it should be refrigerated for 1 to 1½ hours.

Whip the cream to soft peaks. Gently fold the whipped cream and cheese into the Jell-O mixture. Pour the mixture into a large serving dish (I opted for individual portions) and refrigerate until firm.

Pork roulade and minted coleslaw

Everyday realities (such as having a job, running a business or writing a thesis) make it impossible for the average family to make every dinner party it hosts an elaborate one. There are occasions when all we’d like to do is spend some quality time catching up with friends we haven’t seen for awhile. And it’s so much nicer to do it at home, over a slow, simple meal and a nice bottle of wine. This week, I really wanted to squeeze in dinner with our friends V and BG because V is expecting and she’s due to have her baby anytime now. I hadn’t seen them both for ages and wanted to reconnect just before the whirlwind of activity the new addition to the family is certain set off.

For meals like this one, I tend to serve a roast or a stew as the main course simply because the former requires little effort and the latter can be prepared the weekend before and frozen. My favourite roast of the moment has to be the pork roulade available at Swiss Butchery. (No, they didn’t pay me to write this.) A slab of pork belly is butterflied, seasoned, stuffed with sausage meat, rolled up and tied. All I had to do was to place it in an oven preheated to 140 degrees Celsius and roast it for 2 hours. (Naturally, weeknight dinners have to start late. Pop the roast into your oven the moment you get in from work and plan for pre-dinner drinks and an appetizer.) I’ve made this twice and it turned out beautifully on both occasions. The pork is deliciously savoury and succulent without being overly fatty (this particular one had a spicy sausage stuffing). Leftovers are fabulous in a sandwich or served with baked beans and a fried egg the following day. Just call two days ahead and the charming chaps at Swiss Butchery will have a roulade prepared for you. If your order costs $75 or more, they’ll even deliver your meat to you (for regular home delivery, just call one day ahead). A 1.5kg roulade was perfect for four of us (we had a small pasta to start with and dessert, which our dear friend L bought from PS. Cafe).

I was inspired by a yummy coleslaw I’d tasted at a café earlier in the week and opted to pair the roulade with minted coleslaw. Since coleslaw actually develops better flavour over time, it’s something that can be made first thing in the morning and left in the refrigerator until dinnertime. The cold, crunchy coleslaw was a fabulous contrast to the roulade. I particularly enjoyed its sweet and tart flavours, and refreshing, minty top-notes.

Swiss Butchery
30 Greenwood Avenue
Singapore
Tel: +65 6468 7588

Minted Coleslaw
Adapted from a recipe in Real American Food by Burt Wolf and Andrew F. Smith
Makes 8 servings (but we wolfed down most of it between the four of us)

1 small head cabbage, outer leaves discarded
1½ cups grated carrots (about 1 large carrot)
1 cup golden raisins
¼ cup chopped fresh mint
¼ cup chopped fresh parsley (I prefer to use Italian flatleaf)
¼ cup white vinegar
6 tablespoons sugar
¼ cup canola oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Quarter the cabbage and trim off the core. Finely shred the cabbage (this can be done with a mandoline or food processor) and place it in a non-reactive bowl. Combine with the carrots, raisins, mint and parsley. I tossed the vegetables at this point to ensure that they were evenly mixed before the addition of the dressing.

Combine the vinegar, sugar and oil in a glass jar with a tight fitting lid. Shake well and season to taste. Pour the dressing over the vegetables and toss the slaw until it is well coated. Cover and refrigerate for 1 hour before serving.

Puppy love

Today, 2 April, our younger golden retriever, Alix, celebrates her fourth birthday. Friends have observed that we have a softer spot for our second dog. I guess I can’t help it. Alix is smaller than her older sister and inevitably gets less than her half of the back seat in the car because Sascha has developed a slick manoeuvre that ensures that she spreads herself across two-thirds of the space before she lets Alix jump up behind her. Alix doesn’t bark or make alarm-raising noises, so when her favourite soft-toy is forced to endure a lobotomy under the expert paws of Dr Sascha (which has happened innumerable times), I tend to only notice the catastrophe when it’s far too late; when the soft, fluffy innards of her teddy have been scattered across our bedroom. (Inspired by the Simpsons, we’ve taken to naming them Ted1, Ted2, etcetera; we must be up to Ted20 by now.) I’d walk into a room and find Alix either anxiously but silently rushing back and forth around the room, unable to “rescue” her teddy herself, or quietly nursing her headless toy.

Don’t get me wrong, I adore Sascha too. But they’re both very different dogs. Alix unquestioningly follows Sascha’s lead. When we take walks, she automatically stops in order for Sascha to catch up. She prefers to walk alongside Sascha rather than the person who is walking her (yes, it’s bad training on our part). If Sascha were to break loose, she’d know how to find her way back. Alix wouldn’t.

Last year, when Alix broke loose from her handler while CH and I were away, she didn’t find her way home. We knew that it wasn’t something she was likely to be able to do, which really made the possibility of being reunited with her pretty slim. I continue to be grateful that a wonderful gentleman named Andy picked her up, took care of her, and made an effort to get in touch with us when he heard about our lost dog posters. We can’t thank you enough, Andy! We deeply appreciate your generous act of kindness. Without your help, we wouldn’t be able to celebrate the fact that Alix has given us so much joy for nearly four years. Thank you.

This year, as a birthday treat I tried out a couple of recipes from the only cookbook we have for doggy edibles: the Three Dog Bakery Cookbook. Ginger’s Fourth of July Snaps were reasonably easy to make. They smelt very much like gingerbread and I loved the wee bit of added height the addition of baking soda gave them. The Poochie Pleasin’ Pretzels, however, didn’t quite turn out as promised (you’ll notice that they look more like breakfast rolls). It’s not a recipe I am planning to revisit any time soon. However, one of the best things about baking for your dogs is that they’ll adore just about anything you give them. They won’t tell you what they think you could’ve done better, and they’ll gobble up every last bite of your labour of love.

Ginger’s Fourth of July Snaps
Adapted from the Three Dog Bakery Cookbook
Makes 30 three-inch dog bones

¼ cup vegetable oil
½ cup molasses (I prefer unsulfured molasses)
2 tablespoons honey
½ cup water
3 cups plain flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon ground cloves
2 tablespoons ground ginger
¼ cup raisins*
¼ cup chopped pecans**

*RAISINS ARE CALLED FOR IN THE ORIGINAL RECIPE, BUT SINCE THERE IS EVIDENCE LINKING THE INGESTION OF RAISINS WITH ACUTE RENAL FAILURE IN DOGS, YOU MIGHT WANT TO OMIT THEM.

** MOST NUTS ARE APPARENTLY NOT GOOD FOR YOUR DOGS. THEIR HIGH PHOSPHORUS CONTENT IS SAID TO LEAD TO BLADDER STONES. MACADAMIA NUTS ARE PARTICULARLY BAD FOR YOUR DOGS. THEY HAVE BEEN FOUND TO CAUSE LOCOMOTORY PROBLEMS. YOU MIGHT WANT TO OMIT THEM TOO.

Preheat oven to 180 degrees Celsius (350 degrees Fahrenheit). Combine the oil, molasses, honey and water in a bowl. By pouring the oil into the bowl first, you reduce the likelihood of the molasses and honey adhering to the bowl. Similarly, before you measure out the molasses and honey, coat your measuring cup or spoon with a thin layer of oil. This ensures that most of the molasses and honey will slide into the bowl rather than stick to your measuring tool. Stir to combine.

In a large bowl, combine the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, cloves, ginger, raisins and pecans (if using, see notes above) . Whisk to blend evenly before pouring the wet ingredients into the dry mixture. Stir to combine.

On a lightly floured surface, knead the dough. It should come together easily. (A word of caution: this dough is meant to be pretty dry, as you can tell by the cracked surface of the finished product. Don’t be put off by it’s crumbliness. It will hold its shape.) Shape it into a ball. Cut a quarter of the dough and keep the rest of it under a damp kitchen towel. Roll out dough to ¼-inch thick then cut out shapes. The scraps can be gathered into a ball and rolled out again. If the dough feels a little too dry, spray a thin mist of water onto it before you knead it a little and roll it out. Repeat with the remaining dough.

I refrigerated the cut dough for 15 minutes before placing them on trays lined with Silpats. Bake for 15-20 minutes (don’t let them get too brown). Let them cool on a rack before storing them in an air-tight container.

Poochie Pleasin’ Pretzels
Adapted from the Three Dog Bakery Cookbook
Makes 14 to 16 large un-pretzel like rolls

1 package (2 ¼ teaspoons) active dry yeast
1 ½ cups warm water (45 degrees Celsius or 110-115 degrees Fahrenheit)
1 tablespoon honey
4 cups plain flour
1 egg, lightly beaten

Preheat oven to 190 degrees Celsius (375 degrees Fahrenheit). In a large bowl, dissolve yeast in warm water. The instructions are sketchy here. I added the honey after the yeast, stirred it and let the mixture stand until fine bubbles appeared on the surface of the liquid. Add enough flour to make a soft dough (I added all 4 cups). Knead for 6-8 minutes until smooth.

Here, the recipe proceeds directly into shaping the pretzels (which I did). But I suspect that allowing the dough to rise, punching it down and letting it rise again before I shaped them might’ve given me more pretzel-like results.

Pinch off about 2 tablespoons of dough for each pretzel. Using your palm, roll dough out into a 12-inch long, ½-inch thick rope. What they don’t tell you is that the dough is really sticky and having wet hands might make it a little easier to handle. Or perhaps additional flour might’ve helped? I’d just read in a Reinhart book that sticky dough won’t stick to wet hands, so I wet my hands. But I have to say that the dough was difficult to roll out. I rolled it between both palms (the book ambiguously states, “using the palm of your hand”, so I could’ve done it wrongly), letting gravity help it along.

Shape into pretzel twists and place on a baking tray lined with a Silpat. Brush with egg and bake for 20 minutes (I basically took them out when they turned golden brown). Allow to cool on a rack before storing in an air-tight container.