I will admit that I am not much of a cook when it comes to the savoury, but if it is one thing I can do without demolishing the kitchen, it’s baking. I’m not entirely sure where my love for baking stems from, but my family and friends don’t seem to care much for the reason as long as I continue providing them with their favourite desserts. One such dessert would be my Chocolate Raspberry Tart.
Sweetness is not your everyday patisserie, neither traditional French nor modern and overly elaborate. Sweetness has just the right dose of old and new. The delicacies are beautifully presented, wrapped with care, all made by hand. The flavours, on the other hand, cater to one’s inner child. They’re sweets that evoke a sense of longing – marshmallows, chewy caramel, whoopie pies, rocky road, fruit jujubes, caramel popcorn, are only the beginning of a number of insanely delicious treats.
When I was nine years old, my Aunty J migrated to Vancouver, Canada. Every couple of years, she would make a trip back to Singapore to visit my grandma. Each trip, she would lug goodies from Canada for all of us. I remembered seeing Aunty J unpack her luggage, anxiously anticipating the treats that I was going to receive. We got boxes of peaches and cherries, salmon jerky and my favourite – Wagon Wheels.
I made biscotti for the first time when I was looking for a baked good to whip up that didn’t involve butter (I’d run out and was too lazy to run out for some) and utilised whatever ingredients I already had in my pantry. What’s great about biscotti is that the options to customise the flavours and additions to suit your current fancy are really quite myriad. Pistachio, cashew or almond; dried cranberry, apricot or orange zest; chocolate dipped or otherwise, etc etc etc. My first couple of attempts at making biscotti was the classic almond recipe from the Kitchenaid recipe book that came with my little red baby; and subsequently, I moved on to this more decadent version that would be chocolatey enough for a post-meal sweet.
I am a total ice cream addict. On top of that, since my wife S makes some of the best ice cream I have ever tasted, in the years since she first bought her commercial ice cream machine, I’ve become a rather discerning (or spoiled depending on who you ask) ice cream lover. Which means that any new ice cream has to be pretty damned good if it is going to impress me. Which is exactly what the flavours I tasted from Singapore’s newest ice cream brand, The Inspired Chef, did.
One of the things I’ve enjoyed most during my days as a freelance consultant is having leisurely breakfasts (and pastries) anywhere and everywhere, toting my trusty companion of a Macbook Air (super light and pain free for running around Hong Kong with) along. I’d choose a new interesting looking spot to try out, or head for a regular cafe, and spend a couple of lovely hours working and munching, or just reading away.
I’ve been grumpier than usual for the past two months, since my trusty coffee machine (an 8-year old De’Longhi Magnifica) broke. But I trudge along wearily and while the (painfully indecisive) hubby and I are still trying to figure out which is to be our new coffee machine, I have reverted to my tea-drinking ways.
I have a little black book. No, it does not contain any deep, dark secrets. Rather, in this notebook, I have written down recipes that I wanted to try. And one that has been staring at my face for the longest time was a quick bread recipe–Bill Granger’s coconut bread.
I love ice-cream, you love ice-cream, she loves ice-cream, he loves ice-cream. Who doesn’t love ice-cream? That was the thought and inspiration behind the new series of photography from Greg Cohen, who set out to photograph 150 people enjoying their favourite flavour. I was much taken by the alive-ness of the images and how each one beautifully depicts a distinct personality to the subject.
I picked up Molly Wizenberg (of Orangette)’s book over a year ago when I was preggers, following J around on his work trips and doing nothing very much apart from putting away spectacular amounts of food (especially cakes and sweets) and devouring large quantities of food narratives, which often come with lovely recipes.