Who knew that I’d actually come back here to put up a post. I’d sort of decided to drop the blog (for a while or forever I was not too sure) because work was too hectic for me to have much of a virtual life beyond Facebook and Twitter. I haven’t even had time to sort through photographs from Kyoto and post up all those lovely desserts I so wanted to share with all of you. Lots of the snacks I brought home have been gobbled up without a photograph being taken which means a valuable post lost but more sleep time for me. I’ve been so overworked my Friday nights are highly treasured, weekends are magical (well really I don’t have much of it since there’s work to take home as well), sleep is never 100% recovery time and people tell me I’ve lost weight.

Anyway, today’s my Mama Diva’s birthday and luckily enough, I have a day off! On a day off, the irony, however, is that I’m still as busy as ever running around searching for flowers, arranging them into a nice vase, buying groceries, taking my lil sister to lunch, preparing the ingredients etc. for the dinner menu I’ve planned tonight. Well you can definitely say I’m keeping busy.

And, my ol’ Canon Powershot is still sitting on my shelf covered in soddingly thick layer of dust. Shame on me. Let me just update you on my resolution for 2012 though. I intend to purchase a d-slr. A cheap one. FINALLY. Right, talk about dear ol’ Dave (me) finally going ahead to invest in something worthwhile. For now, this busy bee is resorting to lazy but well-trusted methods via the BLACKBERRY BOLD camera. All photos in this post have been taken on my little mobile. And I’m impressed.

I’m also very impressed with this recipe. It doesn’t look like much and almost seems to pale in comparison to the moroccan couscous which I so adore (and those recipes always look a heck lot more complicated). A spoonful of this, however, shocked me. It is full-flavoured. A little savoury from the chicken stock, a little sweet from the apricot but warm and soothing altogether. I used red onions as well instead of white to get a caramelized taste and give it a little more colour. I’m glad I did. This is what I wanted to share with you really – just a really good and simple quick recipe from the most-loved Ottolenghi.

Enjoy.

Ottolenghi’s Couscous with Dried Apricots and Butternut Squash
Ingredients

1 large (red) onion, thinly sliced
6 tbs olive oil
50g dried apricots
1 small butternut squash, peeled, seeded and cut into 2 cm dice
250g couscous
400ml chicken or vegetable stock
a pinch of saffron strands
3 tbs roughly chopped tarragon
3 tbs roughly chopped mint
3 tbs roughly chopped flat-leaf parsley
1 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
grated zest of 1 lemon
coarse sea salt and black pepper

Preheat the oven to 180d Celsius.

Place onion in a large frying pan with 2 tbs oil and a pinch of salt. Sauté over high heat, stirring constantly for about 10 mins (I used less time), until golden brown. Set aside.

Pour hot water from the tap over the apricots just to cover them. Soak for 5 mins then drain and cut them into 5mm dice.

Mix the diced squash in 1 tbs olive oil and spread out on a baking tray to roast. Place in oven for 25 mins, until lightly coloured and quite soft.

While waiting for the butternut squash to cook, cook the couscous. Bring the stock to the boil with the saffron. Place the couscous in a large heatproof bowl and pour the boiling stock over it, plus the remaining olive oil (3 tbs). Cover with clingfilm and leave for about 10 mins for all of the liquid to be absorbed. When done, fluff with up with a fork. Then add the onions, squash, apricots, herbs, cinnamon and lemon zest. Mix well with hands, trying not to mash the squash to bits.

Taste and add salt and pepper if necessary. Serve warmish of cold.

I think I have completely mastered the art of indulgence. It involves zero baking of my own, merely getting up at a fairly late hour mid-morning, throwing some roomy clothes on, slapping on a decent amount of concealer and makeup, a taxi ride and voila. It is the Life of Brunching. Maybe it’s the change of lifestyle ever since I moved which is a little more hectic and fast-paced now, but such indulgences (trust me they don’t happen that often) feel utterly well-deserved and I’d equate the relaxing qualities of good brunches and quality time spent with girlfriends to that of a holiday. The works. Enough said.

Just last weekend, I discovered something so glorious it had to be shared. Or rather, everyone had to have a mug each because it was ironically too good to share. Graze mocha – refer to photo above. Thick, creamy and rich; more chocolatey than most, this was so decadently good an opening to brunch. It was hard to stop after 3 gulps and put this mug down. I know I shall be craving mugs of these on cold rainy nights.

As soon as conversation started flowing (no doubt lubricated by mocha), the dishes started arriving. I loved that they all looked so simple, honest and homemade, exactly how breakfast food should be! Clean, fresh and sort of understated on medium-sized white plates.

Spanish Omelette

This was by far my favourite dish of the day. The Spanish omelette was delicious with bits of chorizo and mushrooms, topped with fresh rocket and seasoned new potatoes that gave a little sweet citrusy tinge to it all. Those little spuds really made my day, whatever they were seasoned with!

Signature Cast Iron Pan – two scrambled free-range eggs, hash browns, bacon, chipolata, baked beans, roast vine tomatoes and mushrooms

A beautiful dish to behold with that rustic feel to it. I think we girls were a sucker for the cast iron dish anyhow, considering one of us had a little cocotte (imported from France) in her handbag. I hate to admit that this resembled dirty fry-ups with my housemates on Sunday morn. It wouldn’t be fair (to Graze) to do a comparison because I mean the latter had a real variety of ingredients, better execution of the dish, baked beans that did not come out of a can and it tasted delicious. But there were similarities for sure – the whole concept of a fry-up. Graze had just upped their game, polished their shoes you know.

Eggs Benedict – two poached eggs served on brioche toast with hollandaise and two slices of mortadella

This probably wasn’t as good as the eggs I had in a recent brunch trip. The eggs were slightly over-poached and it lacked that impressive oozing waterfall of molten yolk when attacked with a knife though the mortadella was quite scrummy. It didn’t have that swollen body poached eggs tend to have, a slight wobbliness and inability to contain its insides not unlike a huge badass blister under your skin, angrily threatening to explode (wow that’s a gross analogy but you get the idea right that sort of precarious balance between a whole egg and a poached egg come undone). I wasn’t sure why the hollandaise had been browned on the top as though it had been set under a grill for a few seconds.

Scottish Smoked Salmon Bagel with Cream Cheese, Dill and Rocket

Toasted seeded bagel – now that’s something hard to find in Singapore. This was lovely and the smoked salmon has to be mentioned. WONDERFUL! Very flavourful and not at all bland like some smoked salmon can be.

Savoury aside, we come to what we saved our tastebuds for.

Old Fashioned Pancakes Stack – with berries, honeycomb ice cream and maple syrup

The pancakes were as expected, fluffy and delicious although a little thinner than we’d hoped for. But they were delightful and well paired with berries and maple syrup (hard to go wrong with such a classic combination). What we really liked was that fat ball of melting honeycomb ice cream. If we didn’t have quite so many girls around the table and I was mindful of etiquette, I’d have grabbed that soup spoon of ice cream and dunked it into my mug of Graze mocha. Bet that would’ve tasted sublime.

Orange and Vanilla Waffles – with chocolate sauce and cut strawberries

Mmmm. Need I say more? And ahm, REALLY GOOD vanillla ice cream. My heart melted just a little at the sight of those specks of vanilla seeds. The ice cream was so rich I wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d snuck some clotted cream into the mix.

And to end it all on a rosey-hued note, a glass of Libalis Rose Maetierra wine which was of a lovely shade I wanted it as a nail polish colour. Happy smiles all around, food bellies nicely concealed under roomy dresses or blouses and a slight reluctance to leave this beautifully light restaurant. As we stepped out into the street and hailed more taxis to take us to our next destination (yea a crew of fat ladies who lunch), I couldn’t help noticing this slightly lethargic but warm feeling in my belly. I realised that that was the sensation of peaceful contentment and a stomach goblin finally satiated.

Graze
No. 38 Martin Road
Singapore

http://www.graze.com.sg

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.

Vampires like cool, dark sun-forsaken places. So do I. But dark shadowy areas can sometimes be such a bore (without the right props); this one isn’t. KHA, tucked away in Martin Road No. 38, is a very cleverly lit space. It’s sheltered from the scorching sun, with a basement feel about it. Its shadowy interiors and dark wooden furniture are brought to life, contrasted with beautiful conversation pieces and enamel vases. The only windows in this restaurant provides a view of bamboo plants and nothing else, locking out the rest of the world and leaving you only a tranquility and quiet restfulness. Something about the textures of Kha’s interior makes you feel like you’ve been instantly transported to a fancy schmanshy restaurant of a private resort and yet as welcome and at home as you would be in the living room of a close friend. I really appreciated the menus which were printed as an archived Thai newspaper on browned paper. The design, typography and uniqueness of such an idea surely wasn’t lost on me.

And of course, neither was the food – which was beautiful, immaculate, an exotic explosion of colours and flavours, a real spectacular display of Thai cuisine. It helped that the inviting interiors of Kha were cloaked in a seductive shadow creating a romantic candlelight ambience whilst the plates on your table were slyly shone a spotlight from the snazzy lights above. The food took centrestage really, and everything else appeared but an effortless afterthought. It was a thoroughly delicious and satisfying meal, which left me a little breathless but dessert picked me right up and obviously hit the g-spot well and good. Instantly, I had favourites. The tom yum soup was just gorgeous and extremely comforting for me (I wasn’t feeling that up to scratch in fact I felt as though I was on the verge of destruction with only myself to blame); the prawn & crab cakes were light, refreshing, citrusy and had a lovely crunch against the melting softness of its insides; the desserts were to-die-for and prettily presented (and flavoured – I mean there were FLOWERS in the red ruby). Even the regular mineral still water was delicately flavoured with lemongrass. That’s beaute, dedication and everything which makes a real foodist’s heart flutter!

But lemme really talk about the food (with pictures to show for it).

I was sipping a watermelon juice quite happily waiting for the real queen of drinks to turn up – the pomegranate mocktail – known quite glamorously by the name Ruby Starlet (now you mustn’t mind that it has a real burlesque dancer feel to it). This is Kha’s maroony red signature mocktail with pomegranate, fresh mint leaves, lychee juice and fresh lime juice. It’s a little on the sweet side, but if you’ve a sweet tooth then you’re sorted. Thoroughly refreshing.

Then came the appetizers, hefty, delicious and a force to be reckoned with.

Appetizers

Papa Adun’s Phad Tow Hu – a crispy fried tofu with crispy basil and three flavoured sauce. Light and creamy tofu encased in a paper thin crispy crust which had a sweet savoury flavour quite similar to that of Indonesian fried chicken.

Tod Man Poo – Thai Crab & Prawn Cakes served with green mango salad, yoghurt and sweet chili. This was a real favourite of mine since crab cakes are something I really adore and it was interesting to taste a Thai rendition of this classic. The sweet chili went really well with the smooth sweet taste of crab and prawn. Nice touch on the yoghurt as I’m not a fan of mayonnaise which restaurants so love to pair with crab cakes.

Yam Nua Wagyu – grilled red curry rubbed wagyu beef with papaya salad, yoghurt & chili jam. Like red curry? You’ll love this which goes terribly well with the richness of the wagyu. So tender the whole thing just melts in your mouth once you bite into it. They’re extremely generous with the yoghurt and chili jam here but it isn’t too spicy. The jam would go so well in a salad or just on a cracker.

Crispy Whole Green Chili stuffed with Pork & Herbs with Malibu Chili Soy, Tom Yum, Honey Mustard dipping sauces – In all honesty, I was a real pussy with this one. My reaction when the plate was placed before us, ‘Oh, I don’t eat chilis really and definitely not whole green ones.’ My fear was for naught. The chili seeds have been removed and replaced with a fragrant herbed pork. The chefs obviously do a little surgery thingy on the chilis, seal ‘em back up and then deep fry them in a deliciously flavoured batter. Light like tempura. The three dipping sauces were quite something and so very creative. I liked the tom yum dip. The Malibu chili soy had a real impact in every sense of the word. Careful, it’s bleedin’ hot, like a lady in a red dress.

Tom Yum Goong – soup is always comforting but even within the world of soups there is a hierarchy with my mumma’s herbal soups being at the top, carrot coriander and anything with churned butternut coming way close at second, homemade miso varieties at third, kimchi jjigae kinda tied actually, fish steamboat soups or hotpots coming close after…I mean there’s lots. And of course Vietnamese pho broth. And then I forget that somewhere out there, a tom yum soup is demanding to be acknowledged. I acknowledged, and bowed down. This is one humbling experience. A cacophony of flavours all captured within a bowl – sweet, savoury, citrusy, spicy, sour, taste of the sea, zing of lemongrass. There’s so much going on in here with different bits shrieking for attention, shouting and pulling at your tastebuds but at the same time the warmth and spice of the soup tugs at my heartstrings and breathes life (or fire) into the hearth of my chest. It wouldn’t go away even after I was done with this soup, like a clingy girlfriend or a burning tattoo freshly inked onto tender skin. Yea. It was soooo sick I wanted more.

Main Courses

Gaem Sam Yang – 3 Signature Curries: Penang Beef Curry, Green Chicken Curry, Red Vegetable Curry – The penang beef curry was quite chicly presented. Red vegetable curry very rich and creamy but maybe not so much my kind of thing. The Thai Green Curry? Winner. Enough said.

Red Vegetable Curry

Green Thai Chicken

Penang Beef Curry

Pha Yang Bai Tong – Chargrilled Seabass with Lemongrass in Banana Leaf and Dill Chili Sauce This was a real stunning dish. Maybe it’s cause my poppa loves fish and I am a pescetarian myself but this was really good and had the soft flake-away melt-in-your-mouth texture as steamed fish dishes normally do (and this wasn’t even steamed!). The lemongrass marinade on the fish skin was a nice touch although I couldn’t quite grab any banana leaf fragrance from this. Nonetheless, the dill chili dip was amazing in a violent way. Think wasabi. Wasabi’s perfect with raw fish. Dill is perfect with fish, whichever way. So really…this is >> Genius, fiery and so unexpected. (If you’re thinking of a steamed seabass with Thai flavours quite similar to this, Westlake Restaurant does a pretty snazzy one too)

Pad Thai Noodles – Delicious of course (tasted similar to mee goreng noodles) but not quite what I was expecting. This was a little too sweet for my liking not that it was bad at all but not the pad thai I have usually eaten at other restaurants. But to be fair, I’ve never had pad thai in Singapore so this was fun.

Desserts

Thap Thim Krwap aka Red Ruby – red rubies, coconut jasmine syrup, shaved ice and real jasmine flowers to boot (don’t eat them though!). A childhood favourite of mine because I used to think I was eating real rubies but they’re red coloured starch-covered bits of water chestnuts.

Khao Neaw Ma Muang – Mango with Sticky Rice and Pandan Coconut Cream A Thai favourite and classic, jazzed up with a minty green coloured pandan flavoured coconut cream. Love that coconut cream has a vanilla-y, almost savoury flavour and gives this dish real depth. Hmm, rephrase? Yea, coconut cream can expand your horizons people. Take that.

Sang Kha Ya Pug Thong – Pumpkin Custard with Coconut Ice Cream, shredded apples & strawberries and mango purée Blew.me.away. Really. I wasn’t expecting this pumpkin funny-looking thing to taste so good and rich like a cake, yet pretty light and wobbly in the mouth. Press a bite of it gently between tongue and roof of your mouth and all sorts of wonderful begin. The coconut ice cream impressed my dining partner. It was true to its taste, kinda like a real coconut bashed up into an ice cream maker with lots of coconut milk, a bit of sugar and nothing else. Nice. Simple, raw, uncomplicated food. In a sense. I really liked what I saw (and ate) on this plate.

So, after all that I was nearly reaching a state of food coma. Had to have tea to wash it all down and soothe a rapidly expanding stomach. This helped: Lemongrass Tea from Gryphon Teas. Fragrant and soothing, and it certainly helped bring on a wave of sleepiness.

Meal concluded. I was such a satisfied fat cat. All I wanted to do was lie down to die.

Anyway, remember I was banging on about the ambience and light in Kha? Well that’s not the only clever thing about Kha (and its food), its space is inspired by the industrial warehouse lofts in the big NYC and the big smoke (London) and it kinda does feel like that judging from my repertoire of warehouse partays (Shhh.A lot more civilised, sophisticated and less grunge and grimey of course). What’s more awesome, however, is that Kha is just a humble child of boisterous triplets – No. 38 Martin Road is where a 3-in-1 dining concept has been born. Here, you’ll find Kha, Provisions (all decked out with royal blue Smeg fridges and gourmet food for takeaway) and Graze which is apparently the shiz for brunches housed in the same block. Kha’s siblings interestingly are well-lit and decked out in lots of white walls and furniture. Bright, cheerful yet cheekily rustic. I’ll be visiting soon – the two chirpy siblings and the black sheep of the lot.

Curious? And curioser? Go check it out yourself.

Kha
No. 38 Martin Road
Singapore 239059
Tel. 6476 9000
Web. http://www.kha.sg

I’m beginning to feel the Christmas season. Yes I’ve finally stepped out of my bubble of denial and have acknowledged that it is December already (which would pass by in a flash). Soon, I’ll be whizzing along in a panicky flurry baking things, shopping for ingredients, storing and packing it all away before that important Christmas dinner. I haven’t had time to start filling the house with mince pies and fruit cake. In fact, I find myself baking in the middle of the night when I’m tired and half-asleep, snapping pictures hurriedly in the early morning before I leave for work, uploading them onto the laptop in the evening after dinner and then (usually) falling asleep whilst trying to edit them. I’m knackered yes! And feeling very guilty that I’m not doing the usual baking (or shopping if things get dire) to get the house in a Christmasy mood.

But things aren’t all that bad. I am still soaking up the flavour of local delights. And one of that, of course, is prawn mee (or prawn noodles)! This dish comes as a choice of yellow egg noodles or a mix of egg noodles and rice vermicelli, and fresh juicy sweet prawns served dry with a mix of condiments and fried shallots. Or, you can have it noodle soup with that signature dark brown murky broth so rich with the flavour of prawns you’d be hard pressed not to down the whole bowl!

Singaporean dishes are flavour-packed. I admit that some don’t look like much and I agree that some border on being just a plate of grease. There’s the bad, and then there’s the good (well, I’m actually learning that as I go along). So we look towards the brighter side of life right? Flavour is something the locals here do not discount on and truly, it is the pride of local cuisine. You can taste it almost before you put it in your mouth. An explosion of flavours, a symphony of it – all of them trying to get your attention all at once. Local flavours aren’t subtle and I doubt they’ll ever be.

Prawn mee is all about flavour! Minimal ingredients, fantastic condiments and an out-of-this-world broth. Most people will choose the noodle soup option to slurp it up with all that wonderful broth. A noodle dry option, panic you not, is no way inferior to the former though. The noodles aren’t at all dry but served with a mix of savoury and spicy condiments. A bowl of broth is also served together with the noodles lest the customer starts up a riot (who eats prawn mee without the broth yea?). I especially love to add a few spoons of broth to my dry noodles and mess it all up soup, noodles and condiments so everything is well coated. Messy. But absolutely delicious.

This place we ate at is a local favourite. Hungry yuppies from wherever they huddle flock to the East side for this. We’re lucky our office sits just above this place, well sorta. Getting a table here ain’t difficult as they’re well prepared for a big lunch crowd. To get your food though, expect to queue.

One interesting thing about this eating house is that they outsource one particular dish – ngoh hiang or 五香. Ngoh hiang is a Hokkien dish of fried fatty pork or prawns flavoured with soy, Chinese five spice and mixed with ingredients like crunchy water chestnuts, spring onions, etc. It is wrapped in a thin beancurd skin then deep fried. It is absolutely delicious and the varieties are many. I’ve always eaten the usual pork rolls but the stall here offered varieties like sweet potato filling and even pork liver roll. I shuddered at the latter, having ordered that by mistake but surprise surprise, I loved it. The fried prawn biscuits 虾餅, the flat white cracker-like things at the bottom of the plate, were crispy and wonderfully light as well. A great side dish or appetizer I suppose. These can be eaten on its own or with a variety of condiments such as a sweet and tangy plum sauce, a thick spicy chili paste and even this surprisingly sweet but strangely coloured pink gooey sauce.

So there, a slice of my eating life and a few snaps of some local cuisine.

Beach Road Prawn Mee Eating House • East Coast Ngoh Hiang
370 East Coast Road
S(428981)
Singapore
Closed on Tuesdays

Singaporean cuisine has much to do with hawker food. In the past few years in which I’ve been away from home and rather sheltered from the F&B industry being unable to stay put in one place due to travelling, I’ve been told that many new modern, chic, trendy and sophisticated cafés, restaurants and patisseries have sprung up catering to a discerning, young and forward-looking crowd. With a crowd desiring for the new and the different (which hardly surprises me in a postmodern age), the F&B industry has also resorted to ever funkier names (sometimes bordering on the cliché) like Ministry of Food, Once Upon a Milkshake and the real alternative restaurant The Clinic which certainly ruffles quite a few feathers amongst the superstitious older generation (why should you dine at a hospital-themed restaurant…do you want to eat to your death or eat dead people?). Apparently, you’re served by waiters dressed in scrubs, drink from a blood-drip thing, sit in wheelchairs and dine off a hospital examination table. Swanky. Each to their own (fetish) eh?

City-state Singapore, a nation not wanting to be left behind, has surely caught on the obsession with molecular gastronomy and no doubt, at one point of time (or maybe still is) was invaded by the macaron craze. The prices in general have gone up considerably too and I find myself completely at a lost when people ask me where and what’s good. I cop out and often say, ‘No idea. Mum’s cooking is best.’ Ok that’s a lie. It’s not a cop out because Mum’s cooking will always be the best and most comforting but we don’t eat out that often except on the weekends. I’m only beginning to settle back home so picking up the food reigns where I once left it will be a rather slow process. Nevertheless, in my humble opinion, the heart of Singaporean food lies in the streets, in the heartlands, in people’s homes and definitely in the hawker centres (of course, you need to know which ones the good stores congregate at). My sis A and the Pops have been very helpful in pointing out the good chows about town.

I’ve had a childhood favourite revival recently. It’s a Chinese dish from the Teochew dialect group (of which I belong. I’m 3/4 Teochew and 1/4 Cantonese) known as chee kwueh (romanized from a Chinese dialect) or 水粿 (in Mandarin). It is a kind of steamed rice cake and literally means water rice cake. A rice flour and water mixture is prepared, then poured into little metal bowl tins the size of one’s palm, steamed in bulk in large bamboo steamers. They are then dug out from their bowls by a wooden spoon and served hot with a generous amount of preserved salted radish known as chye poh (in dialect) and a powerful fried chili sauce. The chye poh is the best bit and I could often just eat jars of it on its own. It’s crunchy, salty, sweet and slightly piquant.

When it comes to chee kwueh, a darling dish to all Singaporeans who know their hawker food, the famous stores to visit (I hear on the foodie grapevine) are the ones in Bedok Interchange Food Centre or Ghim Moh Market which are all highly raved. The latter store was one we visited quite frequently back in the days. The Siang Siang store, although less raved about, has won awards and recognition by the locals in Bedok North. I liked the creaminess of these rice cakes and that they weren’t terribly greasy and stodgy. The chee kwueh man, whom I am very fond of, is always dignifiedly dressed and friendly to all his customers. He is generous with the preserved radish and serves you with a smile. Ace! For more information on chee kwueh and the stores in Singapore (this I found very helpful for a home-returning foodie), jump to ieatishootipost blog which features all the best local haunts in Singapore here.

Ok, so enough and whatever with my chatting. I give you: moist chee kwueh with melt-in-your-mouth texture and softness and that isn’t overly starchy; generous portions of chye poh and a chili sauce that can stand for its own. I like this! Can you not tell???

Siang Siang Chee Kwueh
Fengshan Market and Food Centre
Blk 85 Bedok North Street 4
#01-247
S(460085)
Singapore

If like me you love all things aged and vintage, that treasure chest of stored memories and dusty stories untold or forgotten, then looking through old photo albums must be a joy for you. Settling back home and unpacking is such a chore. So I’ve left bags, clothes and all of my randomness of a clutter to be strewn all over the bedroom. It’s procrastination station. But time spent at this station is time well spent (in my defense) because I’m taking a break looking through old photo albums and having a real hoot of a time. Literally, a HOOT. I’m guffawing so much with laughter, running all through the house squealing at the ridiculous atrocity of my past fashion sense and the awkwardness of teenage years, that period of fatty and carefree wonderment. A picture of my little sis in shocking pink floral tights and myself – a vision of angsty boyishness – brings forth tearful laughter so loud that I’ve drawn both my little sis and Mum to come join me. The more the merrier – to revel in the bittersweet and nostalgic times of the past, immortalized in yellowed, sticky pages of old photo albums within these (very fine quality, might I add) photographs on Kodak/Fujifilm paper. They’ve stood the test of time, aging very little and only in terms of colour. That means something!

Mama and Me

Many a times, when you get caught up in your own world and your own troubles – or for me get swept up in the hustle and bustle of a different city – one can forget so much. It’s good for the soul sometimes to look back and reminisce or as a Chinese idiom goes: 飲水思源 , to remember the spring when you drink water and be grateful for it. The source of my spring water, the source of inspiration for me is my mother’s cooking. And one very simple almost mundane dish she cooks is well-loved by the whole family and when talked about, bring wide smiles and big sighs – Mum’s spaghetti bolognese. Mum hasn’t had the time to cook a mammoth pot to feed all of us house of the hungry.

I stepped in. The first dish I cooked for the family since I moved home – squid, mussel & shrimp pasta in basil oil broth. A pasta combining both spaghetti and spinach fettucine (pffft..how half assed right?) and a good selection of seafood. I used a Jamie Oliver recipe which involved preparing a lovely lemon basil oil made from pounding basil leaves and anchovies in a pestle and mortar before adding extra virgin olive oil and lemon juice. This then went with with the broth produced from the cooking liquids of the mussels (and other seafood which I added because we’re such seafood fans). It’s not the same however. The satisfaction and that post-dinner rub-belly-and-’AH!’ feeling just wasn’t there. Mum’s cooking is still the best and everyone knows it. She’s spoiled our tastebuds.

groovy, baby

I’ve still much to learn. And my Mum is both proof and inspiration that one needs to keep learning and improving. Anyway, she’s pretty damn cool too. I’m sure you’d agree if you saw some old pics of her, her wardrobe and the dresses she used to make for herself and friends. East London vintage shops, my mum could put you all to shame! I might have forgotten this for quite a while, or rather, have always known it but with time have not been quick to remember it – I am who I am today because of my mother (and of course, my dearest paps. I was a tomboy before, so I think my paps helped a lot in that area. Actually, I’m still very rough around the edges with a heart that’s half dude) and boy, she was and still is a beautiful and intelligent woman.

Ah. Mothers and daughters, right (and fathers and daughters)? Rock on, y’all.

Have I been missed? I’ve been away for quite a bit that’s for sure (nose deep in books, essays and my laptop til my eyes crossed) and so has the sun. But just for today (can’t be too confident with English weather) – for one day only? – the sun is out and I’m back with a quick and scrummy blogpost.

When summer arrives in its fully glory, I have less exciting food cravings and more urges for ice cream and fruit. I’ve some friends who completely lose their appetites too which of course is just a little sad. If its unbearably hot and humid, I get too grumpy to even bother with food. My cure is to sit on the patio, feet soaking in the koi pond whilst I guzzle down jugs of iced water or soda. One way to restart your tastebuds, however, I find is eating something with a combination of flavours like hot and spicy, sweet and sour, sweet and savoury. And that brings me to this seasoning for bibimguksu noodles, or a Korean spicy mixed noodle dish. I don’t have all the right ingredients but what I really wanted was the sauce so I decided to use the recipe for its seasoning and whack it into my own concoction of ingredients that I had on hand. This is not authentic bibimguksu I’m afraid.

I’m unembarrassed to say I’m currently going through a barren-fridge moment. Living off junk and processed foods, completely in line with being a starving student/artist type. I know students get so much mick taken out of them and wrongly accused for being bad cooks, etc. I beg to differ. The student race can be pretty talented at cooking, a discerning food shopper and foodie right down to his/her toes. Only when the going gets tough, do we get a little lazy. Doing the washing up, food shopping, cooking properly on the hob all gets thrown out the window for takeaway, cold sandwiches bought cheaply from Tesco, dry cereal, microwaveable meals and cuppa soups. I shudder even as I type that but yea, that’s really my life at the moment. I hope you can sense the dread and utter unwillingness.

I’m starting to lose my train of thought now and before this post actually gets nowhere and bores everyone to death, let’s just say I was pretty glad to have fresh ingredients between my hands this afternoon, to get out the chopping board and to see a real proper hot meal appear before my eyes in the kitchen. This is quick and I swear, one of the best sauces for preparing noodles. Totally delicious.

Recipe can be found on My Korean Kitchen that is a wonderful reservoir of Korean recipes. Here, I’ve reproduced the part containing the seasoning.

I’ve used soft egg noodles and fried it with onions, garlic, yellow peppers, sansai vegetables and codfish. Fry this all together, then add the pre-mixed bibimguksu sauce and garnish with whatever you fancy; some ideas like boiled eggs, black sesame seeds, chilli pepper, spring onions.

Bibimguksu sauce
Ingredients
2 tbs gochujang (Korean hot pepper paste)
2 tbs rice vinegar
1 tbs soy sauce
1 tbs honey
1 tbs sesame oil
1 tbs brown sugar
sesame seeds, lightly toasted (for garnish)

This yields 2 servings.

Mix together well. Set aside until use for mixing into noodles.

When it comes to cooking, not that I know or am skillful at all cooking methods, deep-frying is one of those things I avoid. Shallow-frying, on the other hand, I find thoroughly satisfying. The latter is not any big achievement for sure. It’s just hot fat in a pan, and in you stick your food, out comes this deliciousness with a fairly crispy exterior. Dead easy. But the sizzling of hot fat in a pan is music to my ears, the scent of whatever you’re cooking wafts up so much quicker than steaming or boiling or stewing. It doesn’t pervade the whole kitchen and surrounding rooms as roasting in the oven does but it certainly is eau de parfum compared to eau de toilette.

And there’s something quite therapeutic about watching fresh sage leaves frying in a pan and watching them darken, curl then crisp up. Almost a bit like fresh prawns going from grey to crimson, curling as they cook from the heat. What a sight! I’ve been mulling about quite a few things lately, and there’s lots of stuff I don’t personally approve of happening at work so it was quite nice to empty my mind of everything and simply focus on preparing myself a hot cooked lunch.

I last had gnocchi at Cafe Uno with loads of assorted mushrooms and a green pea sauce. The dinner crowd wasn’t huge and we were the only non-family trio there with a bottle of white to share. I’d not dined at Cafe Uno before but considering how delicious my gnocchi was, I wouldn’t mind going back again for more. Except, I remembered ogling at a plate of burnt butter and sage gnocchi over at Manggy’s blog and it looked far more delicious than what Cafe Uno had served up (no offense). The way Manggy seared his gnocchi and scattered the sage leaves on the plate…you need no words to describe it, except some flutterings of the heart. And there, I can’t help but say homecooking simply is the best. I love eating out but recreating similar dishes at home is just as wonderful, if not more.

This really is a non-recipe. Just add butter to a frying pan on gentle heat. When the butter melts, add the sage leaves and fry until they crisp up. I followed Manggy’s method of removing the sage leaves but added a tiny squeeze of lemon juice to the hot butter. Once the gnocchi were cooked, I drained and then added it to the hot butter. Quick toss then transferred to a warm plate, seasoned with salt and black pepper before adding the reserved sage leaves to the gnocchi.

The salty creaminess of feta, tanginess of lemon, the licorice-laced crisp flavours of fennel, the explosive sweetness of Sultan’s Jewel tomatoes, the mild honeyish pomegranate seeds and the nuttiness of edamame all brought together in harmony by the grassiness of good extra virgin olive oil.

And to think sometimes I forget why salads are so addictive, so all-encompassing and very beautiful to look at. If something so simple (and simply put together) can taste so good, lifting my spirits with each bite, I’m never going to underestimate the humble salad ever again.

A friend once offered me a bottle of salad dressing, to which I turned it down saying I don’t really eat salad dressing. I enjoy salads mostly as they are – their component parts with no oily, wet dressing that splatters everywhere when I’ve got leafy bits sticking out between my lips like a goat. I don’t know if it’s some weird purist mentality I’ve got but that’s pretty much how I usually like my salads. Or if I really had to go for a salad dressing, then extra virgin olive oil and loads of balsamic vinegar which I love with a great passion. Anything mayonnaise-y, or something thick like thousand island dressing really puts me off. Not that I can’t stomach it, I just won’t enjoy it as much. And give my tummy a few hours, it’d probably start feeling a little upset and gurgling like it was part of a string orchestra. I kid you not. Therefore I stress clean, crisp flavours always. That’s just the way forward.

After months of wishing after the Ottolenghi cookbook, and the torturous process of having to see my beautiful foodie friends blog about their Ottolenghi recipes, experiences, it was high time I finally got my own copy. And I did. And it was such a luxury – a stylishly put-together cookbook with a glossy white cover; my heart was beating twice as fast and doing little skips as I flipped through the pages, eyeing the pulses and vegetables, curbing the urge to start sticking little 3M sticky notes in there with a frenzy for potential lunches and so forth. Happiness is moi. (Yes I’m so easily pleased with new cookbooks. But aren’t we foodies all a species of that sort? I’m eyeing the The French Laundry Cookbook next.) I’ve always been a fan of Ottolenghi food ever since I moved to London and even before I did, I’d browsed through the cookbook thinking how gorgeous the food must taste. Then I started visiting the Islington branch since I live just a little way from it. There was no turning back. I became a true fan. Unfortunately, I always felt a bit like a muggle or a half-blood without the cookbook. And having to queue for half a day (yes I exaggerate) or resorting to take-aways to get Ottolenghi grub in my mouth, down my esophagus and then safely into my stomach whenever I have a craving seems much too complicated. Remember, I am lazy.

Equipped with my new cookbook, life seems so rosy. With the beautiful weather too, it’s about time I shove that crabbiness so typical of my character somewhere where the sun don’t shine. I can’t wait to try out more of the recipes and actually, that’s probably not gonna change the fact that I’d still be hopping on a bus to Angel to take-away Ottolenghi cakes (and then eating them in the dark corners of my bedroom – on my own – a la Gollum) or meeting friends there for lunch.

On a final note, let me just say that I’m not just OCD, a perfectionist and anal (please, no crude jokes) to the point of being annoying. I also plan like a high-strung freak (not that I’m high-strung at all. I just have this thing about planning.) But here’s a confession – I’ve booked my sister and I in for dinner at Ottolenghi 2 MONTHS in advance. Yea, so I’m totally off my trolley like that. Crazy.

The original recipe uses tarragon instead of basil and adds no tomatoes or edamame. This makes about 4 servings.

Fennel and Feta with Pomegranate Seeds, Edamame & Sumac
Recipe adapted from the original (p.17) in Ottolenghi: The Cookbook
Ingredients

1/2 pomegranate
2 medium fennel heads
4 tbs fresh edamame beans
1/2 cup cherry/plum tomatoes
1 1/2tbs olive oil
2 tsp crushed sumac, plus extra for garnish
juice of 1 lemon
4 tbs fresh basil leaves, roughly shredded
2 tbs fresh flatleaf parsley, roughly chopped
70g Greek feta cheese
salt and ground black pepper, for seasoning

Remove pomegranate seeds from the fruit. Be careful not to bruise them or break the skin. You can purchase pomegranate seeds also fresh from the cut fruit section in major supermarkets.

Remove leaves from the fennel, reserving some for garnish later. Trim the base, making sure there’s still enough left on to hold the slices together. Slice very thinly lengthwise. Place sliced fennel, herbs, edamame and cherry tomatoes in a large salad bowl.

In another bowl, mix the olive oil, sumac, lemon juice, herbs and some salt and pepper. Add this to the salad bowl, toss well. Taste for seasoning and adjust to taste.

To serve, layer the fennel, then the feta and then the pomegranate seeds. Garnish with reserved fennel leaves, sprinkle with sumac and more parsley leaves if you have any lying about. Serve.