September 19, 2010
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Kaya Bomb Prata
When I was a little tyke, Sunday mornings were spent at Lakeview market, tearing up bite-sized pieces of prata with my bare hands, plunging each into a mound of sugar before stuffing my face with glorious amounts of dough and ghee. But ever since they razed Lakeview market (and left the land desolately empty and barren for more than a decade, presumably for another MRT station or something, although that’s what they always say…), the only other prata place that my family would make the effort to go to is the one at Jalan Kayu.
We don’t really go for prata anymore, anywhere. But sometimes, on the very rare occasion that I get slapped with the crushing and unrelenting yearning for FCB (Fried, Crispy Bread, essentially any kind of dough that gets deep-fried, pan-fried, grilled, roasted, toasted…and not some new acronym-ed vulgarity), I cannot sit still till I find some for my stomach. My brain will not let up on sending life-and-death, SOS signals for copious amounts of Fat and Carbohydrates till it gets it. There’s no fooling thy brain, if that’s one thing I’ve learnt. No amount of gnawing on raw carrots and chomping on apples is going to work. Nope. Just give in, and then spend the next day gnawing on raw carrots and chomping on apples. Read more of this post
September 11, 2010
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I’ve never been a brunch person.
At least not intentionally because, I mean, can I be blamed if I sleep in and have breakfast at 10-11am? I still consider that breakfast, by the way. Feel free to contend with me on what you’d like to call a meal at that time. I thrive on confrontation.
Meals, to me, are the fundamental three: Breakfast, Lunch and then Dinner.
Anything else in between is subject to preferential labeling. Brunch, tea, lunchner, dinch (you know, since breakfast + lunch = brunch. Therefore lunch + dinner = lunchner/ dinch), dinper, supner. Whatever.
I don’t care what time I’m eating something at, because regardless of how school life has been granting me only lunchners and supners, the only and important fact to me remains: I’m eating.
Yet this was a planned brunch. Afternoon classes make certain of that. And have I mentioned how there should be more weekday French brunch places to cater for the increasingly prominent crowd of late-rising tertiary zombies? Oh any kind of brunch place is fine. But I’ll be a regular at any French cafe. Give me a piping hot croissant anytime and you’ll seal the deal. Read more of this post
April 6, 2010
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Now look what I’ve done.
I started this on Saturday, and popped it in the oven today. Richard Bertinet wasn’t kidding when he said that longer fermentations and rising times produce a gorgeous rusty-red crust, full-bodied flavour and the slightest nutty sweetness. Oh my lordie. I could have an entire loaf as a snack, or perhaps all three. I hadn’t planned on taking a span of 3 days to bake this, but I’m glad I did. Now I only wished I had doubled the batch. Half of it’s gone already.
And of course my shaping leaves much to be desired. They’re suppose to look like baguettes but ended up mangled. Tsk.
That wasn’t all that I made with the dough though (say that ten times fast!). I could jump around the house in joy, bouncing off the walls like a chimpanzee on crack and red bull both at once because I thought three baguettes would satisfy the family enough, so I took the last ball of dough and made this: Read more of this post