I wish I could say that I’m almost done with my Hong Kong posts, but I’m not. I just happened to have gotten the easier ones out of the way first.

I put this one off for quite a while because I’ve been pacing back and forth restlessly, mulling over how best to present to you the cheapest 1-Michelin starred restaurant on the face of the planet. Should I wax lyrical? Burst into colourful prose? Throw around a several handfuls of hyperboles?

So I sat back down, and sighed, and decided I’ll do the usual boring thing of letting pictures speak for themselves. I know, how very original of you Christine.

You see, at other places there are queues, and then at Tim Ho Wan there are queues.

Now if I had been ill-prepared, thinking I could skip into a Michelin-starred restaurant without reservation and without even going early, then I very much deserved to squat in the line.

But we were early. We knew there would be a wait, and that the queues were legendary, so we got up at the crack of dawn, and found ourselves at the back of a queue anyway – at 9.15am, 45 minutes before the shop even opened at 10. No reservations allowed.

They have another outlet, but rumour has it that this original outlet is still the best.

The rest of the 45 minutes was spent lolling around in the summer heat, and as luck would have it, when it opened, every single person in front of us fit into the tiny shop, except for us. Only 20 people in at a go. Can you imagine that?! We passed the next half an hour slobbering with our faces plastered to the glass windows watching everyone else eat. It was excruciating. The lady staff outside passed us a slip of the menu in English, in what I think was pity, and we calmed down enough to order.

You can leave to walk around once you have taken your queue number, but if you’re not around when they call for you, your table goes to the next number. No way we were risking that.

It’s dim sum, so it’s nothing foreign. There are rather less common items of course, but if you look closely, you’ll noticed we placed an order for 2 of the Baked Bun with BBQ Pork. I had a feeling I wouldn’t share. You might want to up that to 3 orders of the baked buns. Take my advice.

So after another half hour, we got ushered in, had to squeeze ourselves in between cramped tables of diners, and into the table right at the back of the restaurant next to the kitchen. The place is so tiny, if I had stopped to turn around to gawk at the food on the other tables, I would have knocked someone’s har gao over to another table. Sitting beside the kitchen, we got to see some rolling action from one of the chefs prepping an astonishingly thin cheong fun (rice roll) very deftly.

This is, perhaps, a symbol of Tim Ho Wan, a signature dish with a halo around it. Each order of the Baked Bun with BBQ Pork comes with three buns, and that may or may not be enough for you. Alone. No sharing.

Think of it as a po lo bao (polo bun – a popular Cantonese confectionery), with a crisp, sweet crumbly exterior, that yields to pillowy insides and a treasure trove of glistening char siew. These are so light, they’re barely filling, and so delicious I practically inhaled all three before I knew it. About 750 of these are sold each day. Stuff of the baking gods I swear.

And here we have Siew Mai, as is mandatory. Succulent, flavoursome, and springy with a delicate wrapping of dumpling skin on the outside. An excellent rendition this was.

Har Gao, yet another staple. I must rave about the humble appearances of all the dumplings and their exceptional quality. Paper-thin dumpling skins once again, and what I think is the perfect ratio of crunchy prawn to skin (9:10). You can see the skill in these dumplings, and the light handling of the dumplings. I imagine I’d tear the skins like a barbarian if I tried sealing them.

I had read on several sites that the Chiu Chow Style Steamed Dumpling is an interesting and unique dumpling dish at Tim Ho Wan. The skins of these are slightly thicker and tackier than the other dumplings, and are filled with a mixture of garlic chives, peanuts, what I think is water chestnut, and a couple of other crunchy ingredients.

I liked this Deep-fried Dumpling Filled with Meat very much. It’s quite like a glutinous rice ball stuffed with meat, deep-fried till golden brown and crisp. The skin is a little sweet and is an excellent contrast to the salty filling.

Do something for me. Please don’t miss out on the Steamed Rice Roll with Shrimp. Or any of the cheong funs for that matter. I probably run the risk of some readers condemning me with fire and brimstone, but this is very probably the best cheong fun I’ve ever had. They’re made fresh to order, and I saw them with my very eyes since all I had to do was look over at the kitchen.

Oh how it shines. It’s slippery, unimaginably thin, and with just the right amount of…tension. See, some cheong funs are difficult to cut into, they stick too much, and are too elastic. This one had just that tiny bit of chew, but remained staggeringly delicate. Doesn’t matter what filling you order yours with, it’s the vermicilli sheets that win.

Deep-fried Beancurd Sheet Roll with Shrimp. Let’s just say that there wasn’t a single dish that we tried that wasn’t good. This was done well, crunchy, brimming with filling, and when dipped into a bit of that black vinegar, never fails. It’s not something worth raving about, but it is delicious.

The menu describes this as Tonic Medlar & Petal Cake. I have no idea what in nine hells that is (in fact, some of the other menu items are even more hilarious). All I know is that this is an Osmanthus and Wolfberry Jelly. That’s all! And here I was thinking Tonic Medlar sounded like some potion from Warcraft. It’s a light, palate cleansing type of dessert, just slightly sweet and floral. The jelly wasn’t as light as I would have liked it to be, but it’s passable.

We could have ordered more, but we had an entire list of other places to hit after Tim Ho wan. I’d like to think we tried most of the crowd-pleasers.

And I know you have been waiting for this. You’re probably clawing at your screen wondering just how cheap is the cheapest 1-Michelin starred restaurant.

The total damage done was HKD$140.

Or SGD$23.

See? This is why you should consider a couple more orders of the Baked Buns.

Eat in a 1 star Michelin restaurant before I die? Check.

-

Tim Ho Wan 

2-20 Kwong Wa Street
Mong Kok
Kowloon

10am-10pm

]]> http://crunchybottoms.wordpress.com/2012/02/05/hong-kong-2011-tim-ho-wan-cheapest-1-michelin-starred-restaurant/feed/ 3 licketysplat DSC_0118 DSC_0119 DSC_0120 DSC_0126 DSC_0127 hk-tim-ho-wan-baked-pork tim-ho-wan-siew-mai tim-ho-wan-har-gao tim-ho-wan-chiu-chow-dumpling tim-ho-wan-fried-meat-dumpling DSC_0139e tim-ho-wan-beancurd-prawn tim-ho-wan-osmanthus-jelly http://crunchybottoms.wordpress.com/2012/01/29/ember-another-great-set-lunch-find/ http://crunchybottoms.wordpress.com/2012/01/29/ember-another-great-set-lunch-find/#comments Sun, 29 Jan 2012 14:01:29 +0000 Christine Leow http://crunchybottoms.wordpress.com/?p=1870 ]]>

It’s not quite a well-kept secret anymore that Ember’s set lunches are an absolute steal. At $39.40++, their excellent 3-course lunch doesn’t just aim to impress, but to entice and rope you into repeated visits of your own will.

If you take a look at their 3-course set lunch menu, you will eventually realise that its stunning variety of dishes to choose from is meant to please, to befuddle, and to frustrate in the best way possible. Having to choose among 3 to 4 types of foie gras for your appetiser becomes what is possibly the best sort of happy problem there can be – because you will get your dose of fatty goose liver anyway.

Ember has been around for years now since it’s opening in 2004, fusing robust European cuisine with the intricacies of the Asian cuisine. It’s a modest restaurant located in Hotel 1929, a boutique hotel establishment, seating perhaps no more than 40 people in its airy interior that is furnished simply in light tones of brown. Lit warmly from the midday sunlight streaming in through its floor-to-ceiling glass windows, suffice to say, it was a welcoming setting for our little SMU Gourmet Club event (or perhaps not so little since we took up half the restaurant). Service was attentive and efficient from the get-go. Your napkin will remain on your lap as much as possible if the wait staff can help it.

A restaurant’s bread sets the stage, as most will agree. The tomato foccacia that floated out of the kitchen, while most of us were still bustling around and trying to settle down, was warm and crackly as good bread should be. It was perfumed with rosemary, thyme, and specks of sun-dried tomatoes, the combination and taste standing strong on its own without additional butter. But warm, crust, tender bread without butter? Who are you kidding? You’re already on a roll (pun-intended), so just go with it and start shmearing your bread.

The most outstanding appetiser went to the Roasted and Poached Foie Gras with Mirin, Shoyu, and Shiitake, essentially just fatty goose liver on a bed of braised shiitake mushrooms. But that’s an understatement, because the thick, sweet and salty Japanese-influenced sauce was a smashing hit with the juicy shiitake. Whip that all up with a slab of creamy foie gras poached to tender perfection, and you have a mind-bogglingly crazy-sounding ingredient combination that works. No figs, no apples, no prunes, nothing classically sweet in the dish at all. Just pure savoury bliss.

Another variant of a foie gras appetiser was the Pan-seared Foie Gras with Caramelized Apples and Clove, Port and Raspberry Glaze. Now that’s quite a mouthful, but the dish is simple, really. It’s just fantastic foie gras again, crisp on the outside while luscious on the inside, with the definitive sweetness and acidity of apples to cut its richness. Plus points on the crisp skin for sure, but the Mirin, Shoyu, and Shiitake still takes the prize with its surprising fusion.

Therein lay the limit to the number of appetisers I could have tried, short of badgering my way into everyone else’s personal space to grab a bite and flit off to the next. Comments on many of the dishes were unanimous nevertheless.

The Deep-fried Soft Shell Crab with Sweet Wasabi Aioli played a little on the safe side of a Japanese dish, but the well-fried soft shell crab paired well with the sweet wasabi aioli.

There was also the Pan-roasted Scallop with Parma Ham, Citrus and Tarragon Vinaigrette – a simple plate of a trio of beautifully seared scallops and a mound of salad in the center.

The minute that the mains descended onto the tables was like a moment of reckoning, with surreptitious glances thrown this way and that, sizing up the different mains on the same table. In my humble opinion (disregarding the fact that this was my choice), the 12-hour Cooked Pork Belly with Savoy Cabbage, Apple Puree & Spiced Calvados Sauce topped everything else. Other than the fact that you get a towering slab of pork belly perched atop its throne of vibrant savoy cabbage to sink your teeth into, you get 3 sauces to accompany it with.

There is a classic mustard sauce, with just that bit of bite and tang to marry with the fatty pork, and then a flavourful and creamy sweet sauce, akin to those that come with roast duck in Chinese restaurants.The third (and the best) was the spiced Calvados Sauce contained in a tiny test tube. Just think of a highly concentrated, thick and velvety sauce just made with what could very well be the juices of the pork belly. Sweet, but mostly salty, and simply out-of-this-world.

The pork belly was perfect in every sense of the word. Crisp, crackly skin, and meat so moist and tender the layers just slide apart with a gentle push.

A close second would be the Marinated Cod with Black Miso, Sweet Peas and Herbed Potatoes with its deliciously creamy cod and unique sweet glaze.

The Pan-seared Chilean Seabass with Mushroom and Smoked Bacon Ragout, Truffle Yuzu Butter Sauce was, perhaps, a tad too rich, but incredibly flavourful. The seabass medallion was seared to a golden brown on the outside, the crust thick and crisp, and was perched on a bed of meaty mushrooms and bacon.

Although the skin of the Crispy Duck Leg Confit with New Potatoes, Caramelized Onion-thyme Jus was faultlessly crisp, it was a tad one-dimensional in its savouriness. It was nevertheless a well-executed duck confit in its technique.

The Apple Tarte Tatin with Vanilla Bean Ice Cream for dessert was available for sharing between 2 people, and was a fair rendition of a French classic. Juicy caramelized apples set within a circle of shortcrust pastry, this is a dessert best eaten the moment it is set in front of you for the best flaky crust and steaming apples. In all seriousness, if it wasn’t for the fact that I had to run about snapping pictures of every other thing, I’d probably sound more enthusiastic describing my cold tarte tatin. So yes, eat it while it’s hot.

Another dessert was the Frozen Nougat with Seasonal Berries – twin cubes of nougats, the texture of which was similar to ice cream studded with a healthy dose of nuts and such, and a refreshing scoop of homemade lychee sorbet.

It’s hard for an apple-based dessert to go wrong, but also just as easy to turn it into a star. The Crispy Cinnamon “apple pie” with Homemade Ice Cream was essentially a never-fail combination of sweet apples encased in a philo pastry crust dusted lightly with icing sugar.

The Crispy Caramelized Pear Tart with Homemade Baileys Ice Cream came close with its equally flaky, crunchy pastry and punchy Baileys ice cream, but those not in favour of the tartness of pears may not be convinced, although a dollop of that ice cream will easily remedy that.

Other desserts include the Assorted French Farm Cheese board, and the Warm Valrhona Chocolate Fondant with Vanilla Bean Ice Cream.

All of the above dishes are certainly not an exhaustive list of available choices in Ember’s set lunch menu, although it’s now easy to see why Ember is a hot favourite. It’s a great set lunch find, and is pretty high up my list. I’ll let you know when a place takes over Aoki. Yea right.

As with every perfect set lunch, wash it all down with a cup of coffee or tea (inclusive in the set). But really, don’t be too surprised to find your mind wandering through your schedule for an opportunity to make your way back again.

-

Ember

Address: 50 Keong Saik Road, Hotel 1929, Singapore

I live in a family whose cooking is predominantly Cantonese, even if it isn’t my dialect group. Heck, I even know more about Cantonese cuisine than Hakka (which is strictly – sadly –  confined to Suan Pan Zi/Abacus balls). The dishes that appear in my home pretty much run the gamut from all variants of steamed dishes, to wholesome desserts, only stopping short from anything spectacularly roasted. Notice that I said ‘spectacularly’, because roasting, while possible with an oven, just isn’t the same when it’s not done the expert way (whatever that is). So Siu Ngor (roast goose), Siu Yok (roast pork), and Siu Ngap (roast duck), have unfortunately eluded us. But today’s not a day for roasting woes because, as you can see, I’m determined to finish off the posts of my Hong Kong trip in 2011 (last year, gasp!).

Let’s talk about desserts.

Tong Sui (any kind of soupy dessert/custard in the Cantonese cuisine) was what I grew up with. Desserts like Beancurd Skin Soup with Barley and Gingko Nuts, Sweet Potato and Ginger Soup, Papaya and White Fungus Soup? Pfft! We make them with our eyes closed! Now steamed egg/milk puddings however, that’s another story. The ingredients are simple, but the technique and process are tedious. Trust me, I’ve had my good share of watery, lumpy, sludgy ‘custards’ during our experimentations. I shiver at the thought.

At Yee Shun Milk Company, you needn’t worry. It’s silken smooth milk and egg puddings without fail. Mostly milk, of course, staying true to their namesake, but because their egg puddings are made with the same milk, they’re equally good.

Hot or cold, it’s your choice. But after heading back at least twice during my trip, I’ve come to realise that the hot versions taste sweeter than the chilled ones. Either way, they are excellent, and the chilled puddings are perhaps the best reprieve to a sweltering summer day. And let me tell you, Singapore is no fight for the summer in Hong Kong.

Menus are available in Chinese and English, but if the extensive menu is a little intimidating, you can’t go wrong with their signature Double-skin Milk Pudding (HK$21/SGD$3.50). I’d recommend the chilled version that’s less cloying, with a more subtle milk fragrance. The warm one can get a tad too sweet, for whatever reason. Chemical reaction between sugar and chilled milk? Shrugs.

The second time round, I got the Ginger Egg Milk Pudding (HKD$19/SGD$3.20) to eat on my mom’s behalf. It’s always been Kiong Zap Dan Dan (ginger juice egg pudding) that we have been trying to make at home because it’s her favourite, and since our attempts have been mediocre, I figured I’ll get my fix at Yee Shun and show her a picture afterwards. It’s eggy, sweet, with the heat and kick of ginger. I adored it. It’s difficult to get such a velvety consistency, much less have it available readily in Singapore.

Another pudding I had was the Lotus Seed Milk Pudding (HKD$25/SGD$4.10) which was really just milk pudding with lotus seeds on top. They’ve got plenty of others from red bean, to coffee flavoured milk pudding and red tea milk pudding. Everything’s affordable in this cafe chain, so you can expect any of their outlets to be rather crowded any time of the day. But hey, these are fantastic milk puddings. That I can’t make.

-

Yee Shun Milk Company

Address:

513 Nathan Road

246-248 Sai Yeung Choi Street South, Kowloon

385-391 Hennessy Road

506 Lockhart Road, Causeway Bay

63 Pilkem Street, Jordan

]]> http://crunchybottoms.wordpress.com/2012/01/22/hong-kong-2011-yee-shun-milk-company/feed/ 0 licketysplat DSC_0044 DSC_0036e DSC_0035e hk-milk-company-steamed-egg http://crunchybottoms.wordpress.com/2012/01/08/hong-kong-2011-maks-noodle/ http://crunchybottoms.wordpress.com/2012/01/08/hong-kong-2011-maks-noodle/#comments Sun, 08 Jan 2012 07:56:10 +0000 Christine Leow http://crunchybottoms.wordpress.com/?p=1812 ]]> You’ll never have wanton noodles like Mak’s Noodle. This place has its own Wikipedia page, and that says a lot.

As a general rule, wanton noodles in Hong Kong are a force to be reckoned with. Why? I have no idea. That’s just how things work there.

Of course, things work a little different for me if you tell me that a particular eatery has graced the palate of Anthony Bourdain (one of my all-time favourite food idols with his sharp wit and callously poetic narratives on TV). In fact, there was a newspaper clipping under the glass of the table of Bourdain’s visit to Mak’s. There’s no other better reassurance of great food like slurping up a bowl of wanton noodles under (or above, actually) his trademark blasé gaze. But Bourdain aside, Mak’s Noodle has been around for ages, and is usually on the list of most gluttons’ food itinerary for the land of roast goose, egg tarts, congee, and dim sum.

I’ll let the picture say it all, except for the size. The bowl’s tiny. Really. Tiny enough for this to be a snack and for you to then head on down Wellington street for more goodies to come. It’s about 10cm in diameter, by my guesstimate (I used my palm for measurement, and I have a small palm). It’s not cheap for its size, but it’s worth every cent. I can’t quite remember exactly how much it costs but it’s around SGD$5 for a small bowl. I’d pay gladly if this were available freely in Singapore.

The broth is made exactly as how it was over 40 years ago – with powdered dried flounder, dried shrimp roe, and pork bones. It’s clear, and watery much like a consomme, but packs in so much flavour it’s staggering. You have the essence of seafood and pork bones in a tiny bowl. I can’t imagine having a better soup base for wonton noodles.

The noodles are, of course, part of the limelight with its semi-translucent glint and a characteristic springiness that makes it almost crunchy. It’s a healthy portion of noodles too.

The dumplings are perhaps one of the best around with their silky thin skin and crunchy prawn filling. Succulent. Very succulent.

Everything’s freshly made daily, as one would expect. This is, perhaps, one of the best forms of fast food you can get, your piping hot bowl of noodles descending onto your table before you even finish reading that Anthony Bourdain article under your table. The wonton noodles is a classic, but feel free to deviate with beef brisket, pork, and even an entire bowl of dumplings if the 3 (or was it 4) dumplings in your bowl weren’t enough.

-

Mak’s Noodle

77 Wellington St., Central, Hong Kong

The thing about Hong Kong is, unless you’re hitting the Michelin-starred restaurants and fine-dining establishments, you’re hardly likely to exhaust your wallet. A bowl of congee costs around 10HKD, which is less than $3SGD. The bottom-line is, you can happily drown yourself in a vat of congee and still have enough moolah for all the you tiaos to accompany your wanton gluttony.

Take Wai Kee Congee Shop for example (I actually didn’t know what it was called in English, and kept referring it to the Last You Tiao You Should Eat Before You Die shop). Enter any congee shop in Hong Kong and you can be sure to get velvety, smooth, and very tasty porridge for any meal. The yao jak guai (you tiao/ dough fritters) at Wai Kee however, may induce the kind of rabid addiction enough to grab the shelves of glistening golden dough fritters and make a break for it.

Wai Kee Congee Shop is located at the end of Stanley Street, and it took me a good 10 minutes of walking back and forth in front of the shop trying to discern if this flourescent-lit, slightly shabby-looking eatery was really it.

But we were hungry, we entered anyway, and struck jackpot.

Congee is the quintessential breakfast dish for residents of Hong Kong. It’s fleecy, light, fragrant, and warms your belly first thing in the morning. You might have a little trouble ordering from the menu if you’re not versed in Mandarin since it’s all in Chinese characters, but make a good guess and point to anything and you should be fine. Unless you’re violently averse to Pig’s Blood Congee (although I heard Wai Kee’s is wickedly good). A safe bet would be a Century Egg Pork Porridge, or a Sliced Fish Porridge. Language won’t be that bad a barrier, and some of the staff were even slightly amused at my careless smattering of Cantonese and Mandarin, both blending and appearing in a single sentence alone (yat wun jok, tong…er…you tiao).

And then, this is where I instruct you to order up a mountain of dough fritters, whether you’re going to dunk it in your congee, or just eat them on their own. I should have taken a video of how they sounded when I tore into them. I really should have. But my fingers were slightly oily and I just wanted to eat. The next best thing I can do is to describe.

So the typical you tiao you’ll find in Singapore requires some semblance of dental strength. They’re doughy, stretchy, rubbery, and some even reek of the telltale smell of dough that’s been deep-fried multiple times. And even if they’ve been fried at your order, they’re always dripping and greasy and get soggy too fast. I never used to like them, because I felt they just taste of dough that’s been soaked through with oil.

But those at Wai Kee are of a texture so divine, I tremble just remembering the swift, crisp quality they just snapped at the slightest pressure. I’m not talking about a biscuit/cracker sort of snap, but a clean break into fluffy insides where you don’t need to gnaw and tear and crush the poor thing just to consume it.

The golden outer crust is devoid of any greasy, waxy sheen, and just simply matt and unassuming. Baffling. Just baffling.

When we walked into the shop, they were frying up fresh batches upon batches of them, and when we left, they were still going at it. That little shelf of you tiao in the picture above? It never seemed to run out.

Every other table in Wai Kee had a plate of these: Zha Leong (or Zha Liang in mandarin). Dough fritters wrapped in smooth cheong fun and served with a sweet black bean sauce. Oddly enough, not many people know about this ingenius creation. It’s got silky cheong fun, and maddeningly crispy yet soft you tiao inside. I had a ton of these at multiple places during my stay in Hong Kong. They all went to my thighs.

It’s a simple shop, but undoubtedly popular among the locals, with at least 10 of them popping by to take away breakfast or dining in during the short duration that we were there. They make everything in-house from the congee, to the cheong fun. Everything.

I dream of the you tiao. This is the first place I’ll sweep into the next time I set foot in Hong Kong. Until then, I’m not eating any dough fritters. I will not be adulterous. Wai Kee is the only one for me.

-

Wai Kee Congee Shop

Address: 82 Stanley Street, Central

Nearest MTR Station: Central Station, Exit D1 & D2

It’s a little difficult to wax lyrical about Aoki now for two reasons, the first being that this lunch was more than half a year ago, and the second being that it’ll only be about another week before I fly of to stuff my face proper with sashimi in Japan. But see, this post will never go up if it doesn’t right now, because I’m afraid Aoki will lose its charm, its Zen minimalism, its serenity, after I get back.

Aoki is under the Les Amis group of restaurants, but stands out in its austerity, and although it is situated in the row of the Les Amis Empire (as I like to call it) to the side of Shaw Centre, its easy to waltz by without a second glance, if you even gave it a glance to start with. I had to peek past the drapes, and ask if it was indeed Aoki, before proceeding into dark corridor and into its hushed interior, half expecting to be walloped over the head and taken to see the Yakuza.

I didn’t dare snap pictures of the interior. And if you’ve been in Aoki, you’d understand why. The entire restaurant seats no more than perhaps 28 people, with private rooms hidden out of sight, I’m sure. All you’ll see are three or four partitioned tables, and then the sushi counter down a short flight of steps. It’s so small that any new arrival warrants everyone’s attention. I wasn’t about to whip my camera out anytime soon.

It’s minimal, furnished in lightwood, lit mostly by the bright ochre lighting atop the counter seats, and shrouded in a reverent sort of silence. Yet, the activity is a sight to behold – hushed, diligent, confident, and directed, from wait staff and Sushi chefs alike. It’s another world, where time slows down, where you sit back and let people take care of you, and where you’ll notice thin rice cloths hanging from the ceiling, swaying lightly in gentle drafts.

I made reservations a few days in advance for lunch, where their lunch sets go for $35++ in contrast to their dinners that rocket past $100. I’d advise that you do, for the counter seats especially, because these seats give a show more spectacular than a conveyor belt of listless-looking sushi. You see the chefs in action, blowtorches blazing, razor-sharp knives deftly slicing equally portioned slices of sashimi from slabs of fish, and the swift, almost effortless formation of sushi. It’s $35++ for amazing quality food, and meal-time entertainment. You don’t get that at many places.

Out meal started off with an Otoshi ($3++), a type of appetiser that could be thought of as a mandatory cover charge. Ours was a type of spinach, chilled and refreshing. In case you might feel short-changed, think of it as that it’s far better than having to pay for wet towels that you don’t use in a Chinese restaurant. You get your own warm towel to clean your hands with, and excellently brewed green tea that is refilled religiously throughout the meal.

That was followed by a light salad, tossed in a sesame soy dressing before the mains rolled in.

I knew what I wanted even before I made reservations. The only reason I was stepping into Aoki was for this. Well, other than how this was the only dish within my self-imposed Japanese Budget (a little higher than normal budgets, because with the Japanese cuisine, I tend to be more lax that way).

The Mazechirashi ($35++) is a huge ceramic bowl of a bed of sweet Japanese rice topped with a melange of ingredients from Tamago (sweet omelette), Ika (squid), Uni (sea urchin), Maguro (tuna), Chutoro (fatty tuna), Ebi (prawn), Hotate (scallop), Aji (Mackerel), Tai (swordfish), and Ikura (salmon roe). The rice itself is flavoured with a hint of floral ume (Japanese plum), that pulled everything together and kept it refreshing. I cannot rave enough about the quality of the sashimi here. Of the sheer freshness of the ingredients. The tuna was a deep ruby red and sweet. None of that anaemic-looking, metallic-tasting kind you get elsewhere. It was stunning. The sea urchin was creamy, sweet, and far less briny than most. Another favourite was the tamago, coloured a rich yellow with the consistency of a light pudding. I don’t think I need to go into every detail do I? I kept silent as I was eating. I was speechless.

Of course, if you’re averse to certain types of fish (I didn’t take much liking to the mackerel, not that it was inferior in any way), you are free to request it to be changed to something else. Our waiter was surprisingly kind enough to ask before he went off with our orders.

The Mazechirashi comes with the sweetest miso soup made with prawn broth that you can ever find around, pickles, and a trio of desserts that was naturally the second highlight of the meal.

My dining partner ordered the Japanese Breakfast set ($38++) that consists of an Onsen Tamago (hot spring egg – slow-cooked egg) submerged in a light katsu broth, miso soup, pickles, a type of cold vegetable dish, a bowl of rice, and perhaps the most perfectly grilled and tender Silver Cod ever. That fish was out-of-this-world, so creamy and sweet, flaky and salty with crisp, savoury skin. The entire set is – as its name suggests – a very typical breakfast that the Japanese have, simple, but done exceedingly well.

This needs one more reiteration – that fish was to die for.

That’s right, your eyes are not deceiving you. No watermelon slice! Just a triple whammy for the taste buds in the form of three delicate desserts on a platter, yours with just an order of a lunch set.

That block of semi-translucent jelly in the foreground is, according to the waiter, a ‘plum alcohol jelly’, or what I liken to Choya jelly. Supple, light, melts on the tongue, and with the fragrance of Ume. Incredibly delicious.

And then there’s the milk custard with a drizzle of burnt sugar (not caramel, there’s no butter in it). It’s the stuff of dreams. The custard is soft, lightly sweet, and contrasted beautifully with the slight bitterness of the syrup.

The last was a sweet corn ice cream, made in-house, and was frosty and light.

I don’t know about you, but I’d have these anytime over watermelon. This is the perfect set lunch.

Don’t just pay and leave after you’re done. Do what we did – sit back, relax, and watch the show (while trying to ignore the Japanese expats, Caucasians, and the couple beside us having a darn good time with their omakases). I couldn’t just walk away when tuna like that was sitting in front of me, within reach, but far out of budget.

This was my first experience watching food art. I’m not talking about those with the use of nozzle bottles and cake cutters. This was precision, assuredness, and dexterity.

Chef Kunio Aoki was the one who prepared my Mazechirashi, and he also happened to be sitting in front of me, aloof, silent, and very focused. He barely cracked a smile when I gave him the thumbs up for the Mazechirashi. He’s not one to engage the customer, but I didn’t mind that much, especially since he moved that box of Hokkaido Uni for me to get a better shot at.

We just watched, really. Everything was a show in itself. We paid special attention to the couple next to us and their endless flow of sushi for their omakase, the chef searing gorgeously fatty slabs of Otoro, the smell of fat wafting in the air. We’d just sat there for a good half an hour after our meal, soaking in the atmosphere, noticing Japanese businessmen filing into a private room, completely at ease and at home in Aoki.

It’s not out of reach if you head for their set lunches. It’s all worth it, trust me. That $30+ you spend on taxi fares? Go for a relaxing meal instead. I find it immensely difficult to find any other Japanese restaurant that will top Aoki in it’s concept and ability to transport you to another realm. Step into Aoki, and soak in its thrall.

-

Aoki

1 Scotts Road, #02-17 Shaw Centre

Tel: +65 6333 8015

In the 4 months that I’ve been away from writing proper, I’ve been violently sucked into a whirlwind of events, bludgeoned with massive amounts of food, met the incredible people behind food establishments, harvested an insane amount of food photographs, and got tossed into the world of publishing – all in the name of Urban Relish. What was supposed to be a small-scaled summer food publication almost immediately blew out of proportion and there went 4 months.

But that’s not the point of this post.

The point is: Meet my latest obsession.

Moorish Cuisine – a melange of cuisines from the Middle Eastern/Mediterranean countries. Turkey, Morocco, Spain, Portugal, and more, Moorish cuisine is best summed up as probably the best thing that the rampaging Ottomans left behind before the empire was broken up into what we know today as Turkey, Arabia, Syria, and the like.

In a nutshell, you’re supposed to be feasting at a table with friends whom you love enough to share the bounty with. You order up a storm, and dive right in. And there’s so much to love about such a philosophy that I’ve been back about a total of 5 times now, with a handful or so of returns in the planning.

As part of the mammoth food guide, Urban Relish, that I was slaving away for, I had the opportunity to visit Artichoke for a tasting session. All I’d heard about them was their brunch. And if you’re like me and have only heard about their brunch, well I have just one thing to say: Stop hearing it, because I’m going to tell you about their dinners.

Of course, it’s chef Bjorn Shen who has crafted this contagious culture in his restaurant, and all I needed was just a little chat with him for it to start infecting (in the best way possible). If you need an example of his kitchen philosophy, just have a look at that chalk-scrawled wall in the picture on the right. He’s great with his meats, just in case you can’t tell.

It’s all about great food, colour, texture, boisterous groups of people, passing around a Forgotten Grain Salad to share, mopping up plates of dips with flat breads, and perhaps a meat platter if you’re so inclined. Although I must say that if you do order a meat platter, chances are, Chef Bjorn himself might just come right up to your table in the midst of grilling some haloumi and try to convince you to order a Beetroot Tzatziki instead.

When at Artichoke, if something on the menu looks foreign to you, order it. Don’t know what’s blackened Turkish butter? Or the aforementioned haloumi? Only one way to find out. If you’re still insecure, I’m telling you they’re all good. Details in a while.

Here he is, orchestrating the photoshoot as I was perched atop a high stool. He admitted to having dabbled in food photography a while back before starting Artichoke, and burst out of the restaurant arms full with cups, bottles of cider, cutlery, napkins – anything and everything that could be a prop.

In true Middle Eastern fashion, we started off with the Moorish Dips ($15) of chickpea hummus, roasted carrot and cumin, and cucumber tzatziki and za’atar, served with Turkish pide and crispbread. There might be freshly baked pide now though, since the last time I was at Artichoke Bjorn showed me an adorable round of dough to be baked.

The hummus is earthy, with a hint of garlic and an aromatic pool of olive oil, while the cucumber tzatziki is tart with homemade pickled cucumbers and za’atar (a mixture of middle eastern spices). My favourite was the roasted carrot and cumin though – sweet, creamy, with just that kick of smokey cumin and crunchy (I think this shouldn’t surprise anyone anymore) walnuts. It is just perfect with fluffy pide.

So here’s the Haloumi ($16), a cheese used in Grecian (mostly in Cyprus), and Middle Eastern cooking. It’s made from a combination of goats’ and sheep milk, and sometimes cows’ milk. It has a meaty texture, and is perfect for grilling or frying, and at Artichoke, it’s grilled to a crisp golden-brown on the outside. It is important to eat it in under 5 minutes for the best textural experience of that outer crust and soft, yet chewy, milky interior. Haloumi is also known as Squeaky Cheese. Just cut into it with a knife or chew it in your mouth and you’ll experience the sensation of the cheese ‘squeaking’ or rubbing against your teeth.

Do note that the presentation of this dish has been changed from what is featured above. Just a reminder of how long overdue this post is.

This funky neon pink mound is the Beetroot Tzatziki ($15), a yummy mess of boiled beetroot tossed in tangy homemade labneh (yoghurt cheese) so the rich, natural red from the beetroots imparts a wacky pink hue to the whole dish. It’s creamy, and topped with garlic breadcrumbs and pistachio dukka. Crunchy.

This is a vegetable dish that will convert even the most stubborn of meat-lovers. To date, it’s converted two friends of mine, both of whom I gave the go-ahead to wipe the entire bowl clean. This is an artful creation, again playing wholely on texture and flavour. And if the pink amuses you, that’s just a bonus.

I can’t think of a more aptly named dish than this – the Forgotten Grain Salad ($15). This isn’t something I would have ordered if I had waltzed into Artichoke the first time round on my own. I would have gone for the meats. You know, the big guns.

But I will never walk in without ordering this again.

Here’s why: It’s made with a stunning blend of 12 ingredients that all work so inconceivably well together. Bulgar, Quinoa, Wild Rice, Onions, Almond slivers, Pomegranate seeds, Capers, Sunflower Seeds, Pumpkin Seeds, Black Currants, garlicky Labneh, and Cilantro.

Just a couple of spoonfuls and you get the burst of sweetness from both the pomegranate seeds and black currants, the chew of the grains, the crunch of the toasted seeds, the bite of the onions, and a good hard kick from that creamy garlic labneh.

It’s a salad. But so what? There’s nothing leafy about it. It’s another dish that will convert, although I must say that not everyone will love it, but most will. It’s fascinating, and is such a kaleidoscope of colours. I’ve done the unthinkable and ordered it to take-away a few weeks back because I had crazy cravings. A friend of mine followed suit.

The twiced-cooked Lamb Ribs ($28) was but a teaser, the epilogue, to the Lambgasm. They’re prepared differently, for sure, but if Artichoke’s preparation of meats is anything to go by, the Lambgasm will be promising. Glazed with a coca cola pomegranate finish, these were tender, sweet, sticky, and tangy from more of that labneh.

This date pudding is TO DIE FOR. I rarely capitalize letters, so when I do, pay attention.

There’s probably nothing Moorish about it, but I don’t care. It’s not a sticky date pudding. It’s soft and fragrant Date Pudding ($14) with crushed peanuts, caramelized sugar bits, sea salt flakes, surrounded by a moat of smoked milk. I mean, what genius is that?!

It takes around 5 hours to prepare the smoked milk with wood chips in the oven, and the result is a creamy, smokey, sweet, lush brown sauce that the pudding just soaks up greedily. I could just inhale it. Just look at that. It’s the stuff of dreams. The best date pudding to date (har har har).

In contrast, the Galaktoboureko ($16) is milder, but no less delightful. It’s a Greek dessert made with semolina custard dotted with vanilla beans and a top layer of phyllo pastry. It looks dense, but isn’t. Not too sweet as well. The Orange Blossom Honey gelato is incredibly floral and smooth, and pairs excellently with this dessert.

The gelato that Artichoke uses is sourced from Latte e Miele, a small artisanal gelato shop with promising flavours. The Orange Blossom Honey ($7) is beautiful and created specially for Artichoke, and can be ordered on its own, as with other flavours.

It’s perhaps apt that Bjorn shoved that pig in my hands, because that’s how I feel recalling all my meals at Artichoke.

This post is threatening to run way too long, and although I have been back to Artichoke many times already and tried many other dishes, that’ll have to wait. The pides sounds amazing, and that Lambgasm too. Their brunches are fantastic, but they’re less Moorish and more towards pleasing the general weekend crowd. I’m not complaining. There’s something about candied bacon slabs, fluffy scrambled eggs, and hearty Lamb Shakshouka that renders me torn between their Dinners and Brunches.

[Update] Artichoke’s here to stay! Chef Bjorn will be opening another restaurant of a different cuisine instead of revamping Artichoke. That’s probably the best thing I’ve heard in a while.

-

Artichoke

Address:

161 Middle Road
Singapore 188978
Inside Sculpture Square
(beside NAFA)

Tel: 6336 6949

Opening Hours:

Brunch:

Sat & Sun: 11.30am, last orders at 2.45pm, doors close at 4pm

Dinner:

Tues – Sat: 6.30pm, last food orders 9.45pm, doors close at 11pm

Closed on Mon

There’s never a dearth of Japanese restaurants in Singapore. But if it’s quality you’re looking for, then perhaps this very abundance is going to be more of a hindrance than a help since most seem to be aiming to outdo the rest with even-more-value-for-money menus while ditching quality. I will admit that I do sometimes cave in for more wallet-friendly sushi, just because they’re there and I’d gnaw a finger off if I didn’t get any.

Rakuzen, as I was pleasantly surprised to find out, has most of its ingredients imported directly from Japan, from its sashimi to its rice. No middleman is involved, so all you get is quality food without the burden of carrying any extra costs because of reselling. Their lunch and dinner sets are especially notable for that value-for-money quality that seems to be a constant criteria for most people.

Their second outlet at Tampines opened on the 14th of September, just a month or so back. The restaurant is welcoming, bright and airy, with light wood finishings and a pleasant ambience, and when I was invited to dine there for lunch on a weekday, I must say that their lunch crowd looked incredibly promising. It’s no wonder, really, when their set lunches (usually bentos) start from $14 onwards. 

This beauty right here is but one of Rakuzen’s Special Broiled dishes, the Fire Mackerel ($16). The saba arrives lightly scored in diagonal cuts and is marinated for at least two hours with tangy rice wine vinegar before being wrapped in konbu for extra umami.

Now, I love pyrotechnics. Put me anywhere where there’s a light show, flames, and sizzling fat, and my eyes will be satisfied. All dishes from the Special Broiled section of the menu will arrive looking pristine and … pure … before a wait staff – armed with a blowtorch – starts searing each piece, the skin blistering and charring, releasing a beautiful smoky aroma, and then suddenly your dish has attitude. You know, the golden-brown, crisp, yet fatty and tender kind.

It’s your choice whether to drape a thin slice of sweet, pickled ginger over the mackerel, but personally, I loved how there was sweet crunch with smoky, tender fish. A slice of the saba alone is light, delicate, doesn’t particularly reek distinctly of mackerel, and should be savoured with the ponzu sauce that accompanies the dish.

We weren’t served this first, of course, we started out with appetisers, but I felt that this was one of the highlights of the meal and I have to share the cool stuff first. 

Perhaps these shouldn’t merely be called appetisers, since we had to unanimously agree that the Himatsubushi ($5) almost needed a beer to go along with it. Bar Snacks, perhaps. When Chef Naokatsu Koda came over to the table, he knew what we were thinking and had to ask us twice if we were sure we didn’t want a beer, (‘Asahi? Or Sapporo maybe?’).

These are julienned burdock (a common root vegetable used in Japanese cuisine) strips, coated with potato flour, and then deep-fried. Forget potato chips, because these had a lovely sweetness, and nutty flavour amidst an addictive crispness. The occasional burst of lime pairs remarkably well too.

Yet another bar snack. We had second thoughts on that beer offer. This is the Ehire ($8), a preserved, dried, grilled stingray fin imported from Japan. It’s like fish jerky, only far tastier than it sounds. Popular versions of these dried fish are usually fugu, or puffer fish, but stingray is interesting. Some slices are crisp, and the others more chewy. They are slightly sweet and just what you need if you need to gnaw on something other than your finger. I preferred it without the mayo though, because it was delicious enough.

These are small horse mackerels, fried to a crisp yet soft on the inside. The Mame Aji Tsumami ($8), tastes best with a squirt a lemon and should be eaten whole. As with all mackerels, the horse mackerel was slightly fishy, which I thought was just right since saba doesn’t usually bother me.

The corn that Rakuzen uses are all imported from Japan and are delicately sweet and juicy. Corn and butter is always a winning combination, and with the Grilled Corn with Butter ($5), you have a choice of digging in once the butter has melted evenly, or wait until the small flame below the metal bowl cooks it a bit more, caramelizing it. Waiting just a little more will yield an aroma very similar to a waft of Garrett’s popcorn. So patience in all things, because it’s worth it.

The Moeyo Beef Roll ($18), was my favourite. Hands down.

This is yet another dish from their Special Broiled section, and needless to say, I was mesmerized once again by the flame licking the slivers of raw tenderloin, turning them from a vibrant ruby red to a charred, light brown.

This is a gorgeous row of sushi. Just have a look at the individual grains of rice. They have that perfect white opaque ring on the outside, with a semi-translucent core. That’s the Japanese style of al dente for you. These were grains of rice with ‘bite’, that stuck together firmly and held together a chunk of creamy avocado, and tempura tenkasu (batter bits).

Texturally, this was a winner. Maddeningly tender, medium rare strips of beef, soft avocado, crunchy tempura batter, and slightly chewy rice. There, I’m not that hard to please am I? Give me crunchy and I’m sold.

Yaki Onigiri ($5 per piece). Brushed with a layer of soy sauce, and then grilled to an even golden-brown. There were no fillings, much to my surprise, but the rice was plenty tasty on its own with the savoury sauce, crunchy outer crust, and a chewy interior. It’s a simple dish, and pleasing too. Sometimes all you need is just good soy sauce with rice. Grilled.

Rakuzen’s rice is imported from the Akita prefecture of Japan, the brown rice flown in and then milled on the premises into white rice. Customers can choose between brown or white rice when ordering, which I found to be an excellent and rare alternative!

Rakuzen’s Okonomiyaki ($10) is one of the thinnest I’ve had, and one of the lightest. Just thin wisps of mayo and Japanese worchestershire sauce, a mound of crinkling bonito shreds, and a layer of tiny fried Sakura ebi. The batter itself is mixed in with some nagaimo (Japanese yam), cabbage, and carrots, and then pan-fried on the teppan. Very palatable, in contrast to the heavier, denser types.

Almost like a palate cleanser of sorts, the Asari Sakamushi ($10) tasted clean and light, the short necked clams just steamed in a broth of sake and dashi.

Their sashimi stands out as well, and is air-flown from the Ishikawa and Kagawa prefectures in Japan twice a week. The selection is great and the prices not too exorbitant either, starting from $15 to the Ofune ($80) featuring 8 kinds of sashimi suitable for sharing among 3-5 persons.

They do have another outlet, their first, at Millenia Walk, in case Tampines is a tad far.

With so many items on the menu, it can get difficult to choose. But if you need any guidance or focus, then head straight for their Special Broiled section, in which I spied a Moeyo Unagi Roll ($18). I cannot imagine the way the slices of unagi would sear underneath the flame. That’s what I’m having when I head back, for sure.

This was a tasting session organized by Sixth Sense Communications & PR Consultancy.

-

Rakuzen (Tampines)

Address: 300 Tampines Avenue 5, #01-01A, NTUC Income Tampines Junction, S529653

Tel: 6786 8484

Opening Hours:

Mon-Fri: 11.30am – 3pm (last order 3pm), 6pm – 10pm (last order 9.30pm)

Sat & Sun: 11.30am – 3pm (last order 3pm), 5pm – 10pm (last order 9.30pm)

-

Rakuzen (Millenia Walk)

Address: 9 Raffles Boulevard, #01-16/19, Time2@Millenia Walk, S039596

Tel: 6333 1171

Opening Hours: 

Mon – Sun: 11.30am – 3pm (last order 3pm), 6pm – 10.30pm (last order 10pm)

I figure I should test the waters of the current state of my writing, because unlike investments, it’s not going to appreciate by just festering in a corner over 3 months. So let’s start of with what I had for tea.

I was introduced to Brunetti – one of Melbourne’s most iconic Italian cafes – just this week, 2 days before it opened it’s first branch here in Singapore on the 29th of September. It came as a recommendation, for Italian coffee, pastries, gelato and the whole shebang. And trust me when I say that Brunetti is your one-stop wonderland to almost every Italian treat from biscotti, to millfoglies, hand-made chocolates, paninis, cornettos, espressos, straciatella gelato, and pignolos. Hand your wallet over to someone reliable, because you’re your own worst enemy in the face of at least 10 metres of glass displays with glistening pastries so shiny and vibrant you’ll need shades to gawk.

Brunetti has been around in Melbourne for more than 30 years now, and diehard fans of the outlet at Carlton have been anxiously waiting ever since there was news that it would open its doors here at RWS. But thank goodness it’s Tanglin Mall they’ve decided on instead of Sentosa. I can’t imagine having to go out of my way for a good cup of Italian roast or what could be the closest experience to sitting in an authentic Italian café.

It’s the tiled floor, the mosaic pieces, the black and white photographs of people sipping coffee, the sheer amount of sweets, and the smell of deep, smokey coffee that slows time down, draws you in and teaches you that a cappuccino should last a good, long conversation instead of having it taken-away and chugged down as you’re walking. There’s an otherworldly charm about Brunetti. It whisks you off to another time and place, and if you tried hard enough, maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to hear the staccatos of rapid-fire Italian over the buzz of the cafe. You won’t have to try as hard for Singlish though. Just saying.

As expected, their coffee menu doesn’t disappoint. If you’re hankering for frappes, whipped cream, and all of that saccharine nonsense, well, they just have one type for you. And you really shouldn’t even be considering that when everything else is coffee – the proper kind. I’d heard raves for Brunetti’s Italian hot chocolate. I was torn between sampling their coffee and what I heard was equivalent to thickthickthick, almost pudding-like, intense Hot Chocolate.

So I had the Mocha ($5) as a sort of middle-ground. And it was fantastic. No chocolate syrups here. Just quality, melted-down, smooth chocolate mixed in with luscious steamed milk and a shot of espresso. It’s sweet enough as it is, but what’s coffee without a panellet or two?

Panellets are little Italian cookies or cakes that are mostly made of marzipan, or any other variation of nuts. There is a healthy range that Brunetti offers, but they’re slightly pricey at $1.50 each, so take a good pick.

I can’t quite remember their individual names, but starting from the top and going clockwise, the first one was filled with marzipan with crunches of fine sugar crystals, followed by another with marzipan but with a glazed cherry center, then one with pistachio, and then a ho-hum cookie that I thought could be amaretti (an almond-flavoured cookie) but wasn’t. I vote for the one with marzipan only (the round one at the top).

For coffee connoisseurs, have the Ristretto, or Short Black to sample their coffee. Of course, a Cappucino’s ($4.50) always good too. Don’t forget your panellet!

It’s immensely difficult to keep a check on how much you’re spending. See, by this point in time, we’ve had their coffee and their panellets, and we’d also ordered something called a Horseshoe ($4.50), pastry filled with tiny raisins and candied citrus peel and then shaped into a horseshoe. This had probably sat out the whole day already, so no surprises that it was dry, but grab these first thing in the morning when they’re fresh and you’re good to go.

On top of being a Pasticceria (Italian pastry shop), Brunetti’s a Paninoteca (something like a deli), Gelateria (gelato shop), Panetteria (bakery), and Cioccolateria (chocolate shop) as well. May I reiterate on how I was driven almost mad just wanting to try everything.

Part of sampling their Paninoteca section, we had a Filone Cotto E Carciofoli ($10.90), a baguette stuffed with Bocconcini, ham, artichoke, basil pesto, and mayo. The bread could have been fresher of course, but the ingredients were great, particularly the Bocconcini (tiny balls of mild, slightly soft cheese) and the ham.

It’s hard to leave without passing by the gelato counter again, so we had a medium cup ($5.90) of the Hazelnut and the Mecrock (milk-based gelato with swirls of Ferrero Rocher). And although the Hazelnut was marvelously intense and nutty, for sure, the gelato in Italy still remains unrivaled in texture. It’s no doubt that the gelato at Brunetti are all made with premium ingredients, but they’re not quite light enough. But if you’re a Hazelnut fan, that’s for you. The caramel-coloured ice cream even has whole roasted hazelnuts for crunch.

So that was Sunday tea at Brunetti. But what about the Millefoglies, and the cornettos, and the Operas and Tiramisus, you say? There were what looked like 1001 other fascinating treats to sample, pastas to try, but cut me some slack will ya? I want them too! I do! But oh mama are they pricey! I will, however, definitely return to cover their entire range of offerings before the place is overrun by the curious crowds that are sure to hit within the next month or so.

The hot chocolate. I must have the hot chocolate.

-

Brunetti

Address:

163 Tanglin Road, #01-35 Tanglin Mall, Singapore 237993

Opening Hours:

Mon-Sun: 9am – 10pm

Tel: 67339088

]]> http://crunchybottoms.wordpress.com/2011/10/03/brunetti-an-italian-cafe-experience/feed/ 4 licketysplat brunetti brunetti-2 brunetti-3 brunetti-mocha brunetti-biscotti brunetti-cuppucino brunetti-horseshoe brunetti-sandwich brunetti-gelato http://crunchybottoms.wordpress.com/2011/07/03/baked-by-lace/ http://crunchybottoms.wordpress.com/2011/07/03/baked-by-lace/#comments Sun, 03 Jul 2011 14:24:02 +0000 Christine Leow http://crunchybottoms.wordpress.com/?p=1638 ]]>

Baked by Lace

If there is one thing that can be infinitely fascinating, it’s finding someone so passionate about baking they’re writing formulas, punching numbers into calculators to get that perfect proportion of ingredients, using premium ingredients, never compromising on quality, and meticulous with every detail.

Well I’m glad to have met Lace.

She’s like me, except only the cupcake equivalent to my bread, but also much more popular (cupcakes > bread) and successful with her batches of inconceivably moist and delicately-crumbed cupcakes.

I won’t be frosting and selling my bread by the boxes anytime soon. Wholemeal Sourdough? Dark Rye Bread? Pssh. Who’d buy that?!

But Lace! Lace has got all manners of maddeningly adorable confectioneries. Salted Caramel! Cookies n Cream (my all-time favourite)! Peanut Butter Chocolate! Classic Vanilla Bean! And then she’s got Nutella under her belt! And Dark Chocolate Sea Salt! Red Velvet! Black Forest! Chocolate Bailey’s! Mocha!

She’s been toying with bread too, and while we’ve launched into lengthy discussions over hydration percentages and pre-ferments, I get the feeling she’ll one-up me with a brioche recipe soon and once again, I’ll be stupefied. I shan’t bother competing.

Peanut Butter Chocolate

Cupcakes are not muffins. Cupcakes are as they are – cakes in cup form.

Many are all looks and safe flavour combinations.

But after endless experimentations and adjustments to her original recipe, she’s got it: That elusive light-as-air specialty cake texture of cupcakes that will keep for 3 days at room temperature without turning dry and dense.

And while letting cupcakes with cream sit out in the open may sound odd, resist the temptation to keep them in the fridge. Don’t worry, I understand. You can’t possibly finish every single cupcake especially since they look far too pretty to eat. But keep them at room temperature, because Lace explains that the butter in the batter will harden in the fridge and eating them wouldn’t be as pleasurable.

Anything else will melt in this weather, but the cream won’t. Instead of whipped cream, it’s buttercream that she uses, made with whipped egg whites and Elle&Vire butter till it’s smooth and light, not too cloying as compared to frosting made from icing sugar and butter. Whipping cream will never hold up in this weather.

Cookies n Cream

But what about cake fondant? Well, she has this to say:

“My style is more flavour than looks. I don’t do fondant at all because I think it tastes horrid! The simple things are actually the hardest ones to perfect but are often overlooked. What I wanted to do was to take a basic cupcake but elevate it to a higher level so that it’s tender, fluffy and moist instead of the usual cardboard-tasting cupcakes.”

Her emphasis on premium (Valrhona chocolate, Madasgascar vanilla beans) and natural ingredients – from fresh fruit purees, natural flavourings and extracts – makes all the difference. These are no frills cupcakes that taste and feel so good you’ll want to weep.

Salted Caramel

I swung by the Swirl Art at River Valley a week ago where she sells her cupcakes individually every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, and picked up at box of four that she left me so I could photograph them, and eat them, most importantly.

And it’s true. The buttercream for the Salted Caramel was exceptionally light and fragrant, a balance between sweet and savoury, and absolutely luscious with the simple vanilla cake base. A fork just slips cleanly through it at the lightest of pressures.

Cookies n Cream

And this is my favourite – the Cookies n Cream. I have everything I could possibly ask for in a cupcake in this one. If you never get enough of the filling in your oreos, then you’ll adore the swirl of buttercream on the Cookies n Cream because Lace has recreated it to taste exactly – if not better – than any oreo filling. Coupled with the moist cupcake studded with crunchy chunks of oreo cookies, this was one cupcake that I had to fight my brother for.

Chocolate Peanut Butter

The cake batter for the Chocolate Peanut Butter is a little denser with rich Valrhona chocolate, bittersweet and dotted with oozing chocolate and finished with thick peanut butter cream. I can imagine this one in a Strawberry Jam and Peanut Butter pairing. Gorgeous.

Vanilla Bean

The Vanilla Bean was the simplest of them all. The delicate vanilla tones went perfectly with the cake batter. It doesn’t get any simpler than that. This one is all about the masterful cake batter – you get to appreciate the texture and the tenderness of it all without the complications of any other flavours. Just Vanilla.

Well, if cupcakes seem a tad too dainty, Lace does round cakes too if requested. All you have to do is to visit her facebook page Baked by Lace and drop her a message. Her fantastic cupcakes go for a minimum order of 15 for $3.50 each and are just the thing for parties, potlucks, and any situation that requires tension to be relieved. Therein lie the beauty of cupcakes.

And if you just need one (but really, who are you kidding? Only one?), head on down to Swirl Art at River Valley on Friday, Saturday or Sunday for your cupcake fix! Lace switches the flavours up every week, and I’m only sorry I didn’t post this earlier because the last I heard, this weekend she’s selling Nutella, Black Forest, and Dark Chocolate Sea Salt. Oh well.

Do keep a look out for her flavour offerings on her facebook page!

I’ll be waiting for an Earl Grey Lemon. With walnuts.

-

Baked by Lace

“Eating, especially dessert, is something that’s extremely pleasurable and I believe that wasting your calories on some dry, possibly mass-produced and subpar cake is a cardinal sin.” – Lace