The Sugar Bar

School’s out. Well, sorta. Other than a few projects that have gotta be done and leftover bits of housekeeping matters, it’s all been folded up and chucked into boxes to be forgotten over the short summer break we’ve got. I am thrilled that we’ve finally got a bit of time to put our feet up, let down our hair and for me, be absolutely lazy lousy hungry like I don’t give a shit.

And that also means lots of brunches and lunches. One thing about being in Singapore is that it’s too hot to walk. I mean it. I love walking to places. It saves bus/train money, its good exercise and it’s always healthy to have some ‘me-time’, get some fresh air whilst you catch up on some of your favourite iPod playlists. But in this humidity and oppressive heat, it’s a one-way ticket to skin cancer, heat exhaustion (for me at least) and fainting spells. So it’s kinda great when people offer rides to those hard-to-get cafés and all that. When they invite you along, ride included, you do the right thing and say yes, and then, BRING THE BANTER (and the appropriate appetite).

So finally I got whisked to the Singapore Turf area where the fortunate few ponce around on beautiful horses on the race course and all that. I had a right mind to turn up in riding trousers and a Ralph Lauren polo. Tucked deep into Fairways Drive situated in Bukit Timah Saddle Club is this lovely, charming colonial house Riders Cafe. The name is simple, direct, speaks for itself and hence, exudes that individuality no other can replicate simply because. It had a nice ring to it as well.

I’d heard quite a bit about their poached eggs here (I rave about eggs benedict so I suppose it’s only natural people recommend the spots where real awesome goods can be found). That was ordered, of course. Two comely ballooned, slightly wobbly, bulbous and comely cloyingly thick molten yolks tenderly shrouded in delicate clouds of milky egg whites, precariously (I mean it) balanced atop two halves of herbed grilled tomatoes, streaks of fried bacon lazying on a bed of sourdough. [pause] And then the whole thing is just ridiculously and generously doused with hollandaise and bits of chopped parsley. Kill me now. I want to relive that again.

But before this was all sat down very elegantly before me — my eyes all this while are eagerly following every gradual fated movement of that plate’s advancement towards the space directly in front of me — one of me poached eggs decided to make a run for it before it got devoured without a care for finesse. Not so much a run, more like a suicidal backflip. But a poor attempt at that.

It went … flop, SPLAT –…–squelch…a puncture somewhere; yolk bleeding. A pool of runny yellowy orange yolk gets bigger and bigger with each millisecond that passes. ABSOLUTE SILENCE. Shock on one end, amusement on the other. The pool of warm yolk is getting to the size of my palm now and threatens to make its way close to my glass of ice water. I’m willing someone to move or say something. I think I see a bit of billowy egg white shudder. THERE’S A CRIME SCENE ON MY TABLE. Somebody do sumfing! Finally, the waitress moves. She apologises. Someone else comes to clean it up. Too late. By then, my whole table’s quaking with giggles all around and I’m doubled over, howling with laughter and grabbing my sides to stop the stitches. I’ve laughed so hard tears have actually sprung into my eyes. Hilarious! Laughter’s so infectious at this point, even the willowy dude cleaning up that murdered mess of egg can’t stop a grin from forming. Accident #1.

A fresh plate of eggs benedict arrive soon after. We wonder if both eggs got replaced or merely one. That thought doesn’t even last a second as I move in onto my plate and gently pierce the fattest part of poached egg with the tip of my knife. Like a surgeon I carefully make a small incision, then move the knife around to spread the waterfall of yoke that floods all of the bacon beneath it. The sourdough slowly soaks up the thick orange yoke. I can’t help thinking, at this point, that the act of eating a poached egg is quite so sensual; I am glad it requires an undivided attention that my focus doesn’t deviate away to check if anyone is observing me. I would not have been able to stop a blush otherwise.

Across the table, the same thing’s happening with a plate of eggs royale: the make-up of which is pretty much the same except for a substitution of bacon and tomatoes for smoked salmon, avocado and sour cream, all with a side of rocket and asparagus salad. The smoked salmon is soft, creamy and lightly smoked. A mouthful of the eggs royale (although this wasn’t my plate) I could imagine would’ve been flavourful, richly enveloped in runny yoke and reinforced with a comfortingly fluffy bite of brown sourdough. Gorgeous.

Next to me, a boy with a hearty appetite and naturally of good cheer is tucking into a plate of golden hued brioche french toast with smoked bacon, grilled bananas, strawberries and maple syrup. It smells amazing from where I’m sat, buttery, sweet and savoury with that scent of strawberries lightly hanging in the air. I want a bite of that. And I do get offered one. The brioche is so tall and nicely browned, buttered and yes, soaked with maple syrup. The bananas look gloriously caramelised although that still doesn’t convince me to like bananas. The whole dish is a plate of fireworks, its beauty is intense – the colours implore you to take a bite and he seems utterly in his own world when he tucks into it. Oh yea, he washed down this handsome breakfast with a tall glass of peanut butter & jelly smoothie…yea, you heard me right – PBJ smoothie. Intense.

Really intense.

The plates are getting cleared as I slurp up the last bits of my iced cappuccino and it appears the disaster magnet I have somewhere in my aura is still going strong. The same willowly dude picks up my plate which is pretty much wiped clean save some strands of rocket. And like a strong force of attraction between myself and anti-rust metals, the knife comes sliding off it. I could see it just aiming for my lap and my hands were too busy rubbing my food baby so I was just about to surrender my black trousers to grease and hollandaise, when this fine young man with a deft flick of a wrist caught that knife and saved me from Accident #2. What a load of drama, and all for poached eggs.

It’s like it was the damn Rape of the Lock going on or sumfing like that today. Anyhow.

We gotta go back for seconds, and dessert. There’s yet more to be explored.

There are some things in life that must be enjoyed as a pair (like cookies and cream, bangers and mash, bread and butter, salt and vinegar, etc.). Madeleines fall into that category.

Not to be eaten without a cuppa coffee or tea, it would be almost criminal in my book to eat a madeleine just like that. Moreover, the best and freshest madeleines, according to French food expert Patricia Wells, are dry and have an almost dusty taste when eaten on its own. Its flavours, however, come to life when soaked in tea. I am not sure about how ‘dry’ madeleines are supposed to be but I have always enjoyed madeleines from a local boulangerie which were fairly moist. If they were at all mistaken to be dry (because I don’t think they ever quite were), they were just a tad difficult to swallow from being quite so dense.

Of course, some things are just best savoured in their place of origin. I had some lovely madeleines in Paris and I doubt my own come close but these were wonderfully buttery, fragrant and light. A real treat to the senses, especially with a fresh pot of tea livened up with a dash of milk. Indeed, the taste of a madeleine becomes vivid only when dipped in a cuppa tea, seducing you with its almost caramel/toffee-ish flavour. And is it wrong that I especially love squishing madeleine crumbs soaked in tea between the roof of my mouth and tongue?

These babies make such an awesome and cute tea treat. I’m looking forward to making a few more batches in the weeks to come as gifts for friends. And with the many variations of madeleines, in terms of flavour, out there, I’m truly eager to get going in the kitchen again.

I ain’t a perfectionist and wasn’t looking to recreate the perfect French Madeleine. Hence, I’ve chosen a recipe that includes baking powder. About the buerre noisette, otherwise known as nut or browned butter, I couldn’t be bothered. Don’t judge me, please. But hey, I got ‘em sexy humps didn’t I (see picture above)? My sis C, who wandered into the kitchen at time of baking, commented that it was like cultivating nipples in the oven. Yes it was cute to see them grow and peak, but also slightly weird to observe in the space of 10 minutes 10 portions of eggy batter become miniscule golden brown mountains.

I’ve used a recipe from the very talented Evan via her patisserie blog Bossacafez. I’ve added some tips in my directions below as well.

French Madeleines
(Recipe from Bossacafez, matcha powder omitted)
Ingredients

160g butter, melted and cooled to room temperature
120g cake flour
130g caster sugar
4.5g (about 1 heaped tbs) double acting baking powder
3 eggs, at room temperature
1/2 tsp vanilla bean paste
icing sugar, for dusting (optional)

Preheat oven to 200d Celsius.

Grease madeleine mold with butter, dust with flour and tap out the excess. Freeze the madeleine mold before baking.

Sift together cake flour and baking powder. In a separate bowl, whisk together sugar and eggs until pale and fluffy. Add vanilla. Mix well.

Fold flour mixture into egg mixture followed by melted butter. Scrape down the sides of the mixing bowl with a rubber spatula to make sure that the butter is mixed in, leaving no oily residue on the sides.

Cover bowl with cling film and refrigerate it for at least 3 hours or overnight.

When ready, pour batter into mold using a pouring cup/jug. You may also use a spoon to fill the mold although a jug is a little less fussy. Fill the mold to fill 2/3 or 3/4 of the shell-shaped fill. Do not spread the batter out in the molds once poured in.

(I kept overfilling mine and this prevents your madeleines from growing a nice proud hump. Some bakers have recommended measuring the exact amount required to fill each shell-shaped mold perfectly but David Lebovitz on his blog here says it’s fine to eyeball it. Practice makes perfect I suppose!)

Bake in preheated oven for 10-13 mins, until puffed and golden around the edges.

After each batch, clean the pan with a kitchen towel then bake the rest. The pan should be fairly greased from the butter in the batter, requiring no second greasing of the pan.

Remove baked madeleines immediately onto a cooling rack. You can tilt them out onto it. I used a pair of chopsticks and gently picked them out of the mold. They slide out and off quite easily if you’ve greased and floured your pans well. They are quite soft and delicate when just out of the oven so I recommend using a cold plate or cooling rack with fine grids as they can leave marks on the shell shapes of your madeleines.

Once cool to handle, dust with icing sugar then eat to your hearts desire but don’t forget to dip (very ladylike, please no dunking they’re not bloody OREOs!) in a cup of tea. Whether you have milk in your tea or not, that shall be left to your own discretion.

On my days off, I am faced with mountains of readings, seminar prep work and the banal job of tidying and cleaning my apartment. That’s just dead boring. Academia has turned me into a boring fool so of course, I turn away from the books, humour myself and my tummy with one day of absolute food whoring. What that entails is travelling through London for ingredients (rain or shine – that means I gotta have a wet weather plan ready), quick coffee stop to rest shopping-bag-tired me with extra time factored in to browse some interesting shops I find along my way, journey back home to cook up a storm (or not) before the sun sets and all hopes of decent food photos are dashed.

A very long sentence that was. But it aptly reflects how much I do within the space of about 2-4hours zipping back and forth via bus or tube with a gianormous shopping bag. Pretty much a whirlwind of things happening, to do and yet-to-do, which is probably why slow walkers and confused tourists with huge suitcases frustrate me a little when I’m rushing against time (the sun set remember?). And when some hoity toity lady with a Louis Vuitton bag decides to squeeze past me onto the tube, nearly trodding on my toes with that knife-like stiletto heel and catching the wire of my iPod earphones resulting in me having to discreetly follow her until I can safe dislodge that caught wire from her handbag WITHOUT appearing like I’m trying to pickpocket her, I’m just that close to giving up and jumping into a taxi like a true diva. But that I don’t do. I bite my lip, pull my cap lower and blast up the rock music. Simply have to live within my means, don’t I?

I love going out for sushi but unknown to many, sushi is a bit of an occasion food. It’s a treat and unless it’s bento-style, we don’t really have it unless there’s something to celebrate or someone to reward it with. But it’s also a very tasty, clean food that’s popularly marketed now as a ‘health food’ or an ‘on-the-go’ kinda snack. Sometimes, I have sushi for lunch at work or if I’ve had time to prep it the night before, that goes into my bento as well. It’s not messy to eat, looks great, tastes great and cheap to prepare as well (depending on your toppings of course). And because it’s a very special treat-food, it makes me feel like I’m taking care of myself well. But what with the cold, I’ve found myself sticking to hot soups and stews of late and therefore neglecting any cravings for sushi. I can safely say my day off is now very productive – I food-shopped, I made sushi enough to feed me for 2 meals and I totally whored it out.

Was watching something the other day and this sentence stuck with me: “Food is medicine for your body.” That’s very true as food is what feeds your body, repairs the muscles, looks after your bones and organs, etc. It is essential and something that shouldn’t be avoided like the plague but celebrated and enjoyed. Of course, don’t overdo it and become a million stone baby. A good balance is what should be had. So anyway, here my post dedicated to bringing some colour/happiness (despite the grey) to the kitchen and to enjoying the simple pleasures of food which should be an occasion in itself!

In a previous How to Prepare Sushi post, you might have seen my plain inari sushi, naked but for a humble sprinkling of black goma seeds. This time, I opted for a blast of sunshine in the form of 2 types of egg topping.

Recipe yields 8 sushi.

Two Egg Inari Sushi
Ingredients
sushi rice (recipe here)

8 inari age wraps (from abura-age – deep fried tofu)
ikura (salmon roe)
wasabi tobiko (wasabi-laced flying fish roe)

Tobiko roe is a lot smaller than ikura roe with a bit more of a crunch. Plain tobiko has a lovely bright orange colour but you can find them coloured with wasabi, squid ink and yuzu orange – the first two being my most favourite.

Ikura roe has a salty, oily flavour. If you’re a first timer to it, you might be put off by its strong taste of the sea and aftertaste. Gari sushi pickle will help remove that aftertaste and cleanse the palate.

Have used these lovely Burford Brown eggs for a denser flavour and colour

Ingredients for Scrambled Eggs

2 large free range eggs
1 tbs caster sugar
1/2 tbs sake
salt, for seasoning

To cook scrambled eggs for bento or sushi topping I recommend using a pair of chopsticks to get that fluffy scrambled texture. Japanese scrambled eggs will differ from the usual British grub scrambled eggs which tends to be a little wetter, milkier and held-together rather than beaten and fluffed up to resemble minced meat.

Beat the eggs in a bowl. Add the sugar, sake and a little salt to taste. Beat. Pour into a heated saucepan which has a few drops of vegetable oil in it. Cook initially on a medium heat.

When the outer edges starts to cook and pull away from the sides of the pan, turn the heat down to low. Using your chopsticks, stir quickly and continuously as though whipping the eggs. When you can see the eggs quickly losing its wetness (this cooking process can happen quite quickly depending on your cooking hob), you may want to pull the saucepan away from the heat but still stir the eggs until its all cooked through and has lost all wetness. Be careful not to expose it to too much heat or cook for too long as the eggs can start to colour from being fried and become too dry.

To assemble the sushi:

Have age wraps, sushi rice, scrambled eggs and fish roe neatly prepped in front of you from left to right respectively as you’ll move from the first ingredient onto the next left to right. I use a wooden chopping board to make the sushi on as well before transferring into a bento box or plate.

Gently split open the prepared age wraps down the middle. If you’ve made these age wraps from scratch, slice them down the middle and open it carefully from the sliced side. Don’t open them all the way or you’ll split the bottom of the age ‘bag’. Spoon about 2 tbs of sushi rice into the bag and gently press and mould into the bag. As I fill it, I give the bag a gentle tapping against the chopping board to give it a nice flat bottom so that it doesn’t topple over. Ensure your rice is evenly filled so that the inari sushi can stand fairly stable on its own.

Using a pair of chopsticks, fill half the inari with scrambled eggs. Make sure you fill round the sides of the scrambled egg half so that none of the rice can be seen. If there are any empty pockets between the age and the rice, you may fill it with scrambled egg as well.

Using a spoon for the ikura and chopsticks for the tobiko (I find chopsticks are easier to handle the smaller roe), fill the other half of the sushi and make sure you’re careful to fill the sides as well so that the age doesn’t end up pulling away from the rice or have any empty pockets showing.

Fill the rest of the age wraps and you’ve got 8 yummy two egg inari sushi.