I’m not a fan of mushrooms. In fact, I quite dislike them. There’s something about both the taste and texture which just doesn’t appeal to me. When I was a kid (and a fan of Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom soup - which, obviously, tastes nothing like mushrooms….), I never understood why dining in restaurants that served “home made mushroom soup” always meant that the soup would taste foul. A couple of years later, it suddenly dawned on me that it was the mushroomy taste I couldn’t stand. I know, I wasn’t the smartest kid on the block (tastewise anyway)!

6 months ago, when I started considering a career in a professional kitchen, I decided that it would be prudent to expand my tastes to beyond enoki and grilled button mushrooms which both don’t really taste particularly mushroomy. (Probably why I didn’t mind them so much.) I figured that even if I didn’t like them, I needed to know what they were supposed to taste like so that I’d be able to tell if a dish I was cooking was properly seasoned, whether or not I liked the mushrooms in them. This decision was a great joy to bunny, as she’s one of the hugest fans of mushrooms I’ve ever met, and has obviously been quite sore about my constant refusal to ever cook anything with mushrooms in it for her.

Last night, I decided to make a mushroom soup for dinner. Mushroom soup is really easy to make, and if I were to do it at home, I figured I could control the taste such that it would be mild enough for me to enjoy, without completely hiding the mushroom taste. Furthermore, it negates one of the the two reasons I don’t like mushrooms - the texture. Here’s a recipe that’s really easy to do, and can easily be poshed up with a garnish of truffle oil for a dinner party. And lest you don’t believe that someone who hates mushrooms can make a dish filled with them, the other 3 mushroom-lovers at the table loved it, so hopefully that’s testament enough for you. :)

Note: I made my own vegetable stock for this soup (simply boiling up a mirepoix of leek, celery, onion and carrot), but if you don’t have time nor the energy, just buy a tin of vegetable stock/broth. Be careful with the seasoning as some tinned stocks come salted, unlike the home made stock that I used. If you can’t find vegetable stock and aren’t cooking for vegetarians, you can always substitute light chicken stock.

Mushroom Soup

1 large white onion, peeled and finely chopped
3 cloves of garlic, peeled and finely chopped
6 stalks of thyme, leaves picked
600g assorted mushrooms (I used a mixture of shiitake, swiss mushrooms, and porcini)
olive oil
30g butter
vegetable stock (I used about 1.5 litres)
sea salt
freshly ground black pepper
100ml cream, plus extra for garnishing
optional: truffle oil, and a few sprigs of thyme

Sauté the onion and garlic in a little olive oil in a medium-sized, heavy-based pot until translucent and fragrant. Add in the thyme leaves and heat through until the onion just starts to colour. Remove from heat and set aside.

Slice the mushrooms, and sauté them in olive oil and butter in 3-4 batches until all the liquid that comes out has evaporated off. Salt them lightly while sautéing. I would also cook all the same mushrooms together and not mix them as different mushrooms may have different cooking times (i.e. sauté all the shiitake in one batch etc).

As you are done cooking each batch of mushrooms, dump them all into the pot with the onions, garlic and thyme. Once all the mushrooms are done, pour in enough vegetable stock to cover the mushrooms by about 1-2cm (depending on how wide your pot is). Season well with pepper, bring the liquid to a boil, then reduce the heat to low, cover the pot partially and simmer for 45 minutes to 1 hour, stirring occasionally, and checking that the pot doesn’t dry out.

Remove 1/2 cup of the mushrooms, roughly chop them, and return them to a clean pot which will fit all the soup. In batches, blend the mushrooms well and sieve them into the new pot. Add in the cream, and more vegetable stock if necessary to adjust the consistency to your liking, and bring to a simmer again. Taste, season with salt and black pepper, then keep warm until ready to serve. If you’re preparing this in advance, you can let it cool, then keep in a covered container in the fridge for 2-3 days.

I like to serve my soups in a shallow bowl, with a splash of cream and a few drops of truffle oil, garnished with a sprig of thyme.

Yield: Serves 6

Well, not exactly.. or.. something, but that’s what some ad in the newest terminal in Changi airport says. It’s definitely pretty, but it’s things like this that make me wonder exactly where all this money is coming from (and going to). That said, I’m really not complaining - the lounge in T3 is really excellent, down to the shiny new iMacs (the big-chinned ones), mighty mouses and super flat keyboards (that I have sort of decided are a little too flat), one of which I’m on now.

Bunny and I are enroute to Beijing for a week. I’m not sure if I really officially updated anyone via this space, but at the end of last month, I completed my stint as stagiare in a restaurant kitchen. That was an amazing experience, and while I’ve got some time to think about whether or not I want to pursue this route, it’s definitely something I don’t regret trying out at all. In case you’re wondering where I’ve been for the past couple of weeks since I quit, I’ve essentially been hiding at home, and going on various random photowalks (a couple with jldlin) and… baking copious amounts of breakfasty/tea-time snacks for a bunch of greedy lawyers scattered throughout various banks. Thanks to said goodies, I even managed to get myself an offer for a summer internship. But I really don’t think that’s my cuppa tea.

So anyway, all of you sweethearts who have been complaining that my blog is growing mold and slowly but surely dying away, fear not! I have returned. Or.. I will have returned once I’m back in Singapore from this trip. I have a trip to London and Spain booked for April this year (HELLO FAT DUCK. HELLO RAMSAY’S. MAYBE HELLO PETRUS.) and I’m hoping to steal some time away for another short trip either to KL, HK (it’s been too long!) or Melbourne where I have friends that I haven’t seen in faaaar too long.

Alrighty, enough of this rambly-schmambly. I have to go hunt down my sillybunny. See you all in a few. In the meantime, do check out my flickrstream for live pictorial updates from the land of Peking Duck and a couple of rolls of film that I shot last week.

I love crab. However, as a fan of crustaceans in general, I usually find myself opting for the easier-to-reach variety like prawns, lobster, and crayfish. Hence, it’s really no surprise that I’m a huge fan of crab cakes - they simply spell out delicious crab without all the hard work of digging through the shells for the gorgeous little nuggets of flesh.

One problem, however, is that the crab cakes one finds in most restaurants, cafes and bars these days are really more fish cakes than crab cakes. Worse, many of them have mountains of fillers in them - ranging from breadcrumbs to mashed potatoes. More often than not, I end up feeling like I’m eating a korroke (a little lump of minced meat which is encased in mashed potato, battered, breaded and deep fried as a popular Japanese snack item) rather than crab cakes. These, to me, should have chunks of crab meat, plenty of fresh flavour, fried to golden brown perfection on the outside and steaming hot on the inside. Also, I personally prefer them served with a fairly simple sauce which will heighten the flavour more than drown out the fishiness which diners hopefully won’t detect.

Having found a tub of claw crab meat, I decided to try out making these things on my own. I would, of course, recommend that you use live crabs which you kill and cook on your own as nothing beats them, but if you don’t have the time (or can’t be bothered like me), you can easily find good quality pasteurised crab meat in tins nowadays. I also added a bit of potato as I felt that it lightened the texture significantly in an amount that would not detract from the taste of the main ingredients.

Crab Cakes with Basil Aioli

For the crab cakes:
400g white fish fillets (I use dory)
1 egg
50g boiled potato
400g crab meat (either a mixture of dark and white meat from a live crab, or claw meat from a tin)
salt & freshly ground pepper to taste
1 tbsp freshly squeezed lemon juice
5 cloves of garlic, finely minced
1 small red onion, finely diced
about 1/2 cup Japanese panko for breading
canola oil (or any other mild tasting oil) for deep frying

Cut the fish into small chunks, then blitz with the egg, potato, and garlic in a food processor until sticky and completely pulverised. This helps them to bind together without the use of breadcrumbs and other fillers.

In a medium mixing bowl, fold the fish paste, crab meat, lemon juice, and onion together. Season with salt and pepper, then break off a little piece and fry it to check your seasoning. Divide the mixture into 15 balls, roll them tightly, then press to flatten into a disc that’s 0.5cm thick. Roll in panko to coat, then refrigerate for at least 30 minutes or until ready to cook.

For the aioli:

1 egg yolk
1 large clove of garlic, finely minced
100ml olive oil (not extra virgin)
2 tbsp lemon juice
salt
5 large leaves of basil, cut into chiffonade

Whisk the egg yolk and garlic together until the colour turns pale. Slowly drizzle in the oil, whisking continuously to emulsify, and continue until all the oil is used up. Whisk in the lemon juice and salt to taste, then stir in the basil. Keep refrigerated in a covered container until ready to serve.

To serve:

Heat about 1cm of canola oil in a heavy based saucepan to 170C. Fry for 1-2 minutes on one side until golden brown, then flip over to finish cooking. You know that the cakes are cooked through when a metal skewer pierced into the middle of the cake feels hot on your lower lip.

Serve with basil aioli.

Yield: Makes 15.

While the bunny was working for a couple of years in Tokyo, she drank so much coffee (and got so stressed out) that it gave her a gastric ulcer. As a result, she no longer can drink coffee on a regular basis. That hasn’t stopped her from absolutely loving the taste of it, and whenever she can, she takes a sip of my latte or indulges in coffee-flavoured cakes and desserts.

I haven’t baked in a while - mostly because I’m too tired on my off days, despite having a file brimming with recipes that I want to try. Last night, I decided that I’d bake today, and remembered that bunny had loved this espresso buttercream so much the last time I made it that she’d piped the remainder straight into her mouth, and skipped around the chocolate cupcakes I’d paired them with (being the chocolate-hater that she is). Apparently, her colleagues also miss my housewifery, as they haven’t had their Tuesday Treats (as my baked goodies had been dubbed, since Monday was my usual off day for October and November), so I made enough for all of them to share.

The cupcake recipe was taken off Chockylit’s recipe for Vietnamese Coffee Cupcakes, only I used strongly brewed normal coffee straight out of my espresso machine, as I figured that since she’d paired it with a Sweetened Condensed Milk Pudding and slightly sweetened whipped cream, it couldn’t be one of those insanely sweet cupcake recipes. She’s also got a whole bunch of recipes that I’ve been wanting to try out, so this was as good as any to start with. (Note: Weighing in approx 50g of batter into each cupcake liner - which filled them slightly over the halfway mark - gave me 30, not 24 cupcakes.)

Chocolate coated coffee beans are also so easy to make and delicious (just melt some semi-sweet chocolate in a bain-marie or microwave, then stir in the required number of beans, and let cool in the refrigerator for 15 minutes on a tray lined with silicone paper), so they were a no-brainer to choose for this triple-shot morning-coffee cupcake.

Espresso Buttercream

2 eggs
1/2 cup caster sugar
a pinch of salt
1/4 sheet of gelatine, softened in cold water
250g unsalted butter, cut into 2cm cubes, at room temperature
4 tbsp strong espresso, cooled

Special Equipment:
Instant read thermometer
Stand mixer

1. Crack the eggs into the bowl of your stand mixer with the sugar and salt. Whisk together briefly with a hand-mixer. Bring 2cm of water to the boil in a small saucepan, and rest the bowl of your stand mixer over the saucepan, ensuring that the base does not come into contact with the water. Squeeze the excess water out of the gelatine, then whisk constantly until the temperature reaches 70 deg Celsius. The mixture should be very pale, foamy, and increase by about 4x in volume.

2. Re-attach the mixing bowl to your stand mixer, then beat at high speed for about 5 minutes or until cooled to room temperature. THIS STEP IS IMPORTANT, DO NOT UNDER-BEAT. When the mixture has cooled, reduce the speed to medium and add the butter in one cube at a time. It will probably curdle halfway through, but it should smoothen out into a velvety buttercream by the time you add the last cube.

3. Add the espresso in, scrape down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula, then beat on high speed for 1 minute. Spread/smear/pipe onto cooled cupcakes and consume immediately, or store in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 3 days before using. In the event that the buttercream feels too stiff to use, just tip it back into your stand mixer and whip it thoroughly for 30 seconds to soften it.

Yield: Makes enough to top 30 medium-sized cupcakes as shown in the picture above.

I’ve pretty much decided that when I’m done with this stage, I’m going to write a book. (Check back with me when I’m actually done with said stage to see if I really get down to writing it or not.) Not about my experiences with this kitchen/restaurant in particular, just some things I’ve found out, been taught, and in general want to scream at the world at large.

The first chapter is going to be titled after this post. Salad leaves are the single greatest bane of my existence in a professional kitchen. Salad leaves get wet, bruised, START TO SMELL FUNKY, and always - ALWAYS - need to be treated with the utmost care. In my first week, I really did little more than sort out buckets and buckets of salad leaves - for which I’m glad. Because now I respect them, now I know how they need to be treated, and - frankly speaking - if I didn’t, I wouldn’t trust myself with a knife.

Yesterday was my first day into the second half of my stage. It’s growing to be the sort of experience where you wake up each morning with half of you excited about going to work, and the other half has to be dragged kicking and screaming out of bed. I love that I’ve become more comfortable with my surroundings; that I now know (more or less) exactly what I need to do, that a grey tub slightly over half full of salad dressing X will likely last me at most 3 more days before it’s time to make a new batch, that I need to defrost the chicken first thing in the morning so that I can get it grilled before dinner service starts. I just wish there was something that would make it easier to yank myself out of bed when it’s a Sunday morning and my girlfriend’s fast asleep next to me.

As much as I hate having 3/4 of my non-sleeping hours locked up every single day of the week, I know I’m going to miss this terribly when it’s over. I guess I might be having one of those existentialist moments where I wonder if I’ve found something I could do for the rest of my life.

As I mentioned in my last post, I love eggs. Bunny’s got a colleague who’s been seconded to Singapore for the past few months, and will be leaving next month to return to a freezing cold winter and very little good (Asian) food - which he and his wife have both come to love. As such, we decided to host him (and another colleague) for dinner tonight, and I had quite a lot of fun playing around in the kitchen.

For our starters, I made the miniature eggs benedict again - this time, thankfully, remembering to include the bacon. Next up, I served my Bakkuttini (pictured below, with the burger) - a deconstructed version of bak kut teh, where I shred the meat and mix it with a reduction of the broth, pile it into a pyramid in the centre of a martini glass and serve the broth around it - which I chose because it’s my take on a very local dish, which apparently they haven’t had the chance to try (and are now dying to). S especially loved it - and by that I really mean the queen of puns was enamoured with the name, more than the dish. :P

The main course was a mini cheese burger, done the usual style with a slice of emmental melted over the top. Delightfully juicy patties, a sauce of Japanese mayo, chilli sauce, brown sauce and some worcestershire dolloped over the bun, a little rocket, thinly sliced cherry tomatoes, all encased in a mini butter roll.

After a palate cleanser of orange sorbet came the highlight of the meal - Reconstructed Lemon Eggs (pictured at start of post). Now, I’ve been wanting to try this - and a whole bunch of other recipes - from Michel Richard’s Happy In The Kitchen. There are so many ridiculously innovative and creative ideas in there; the book completely blew my mind when I first started flipping through it. My favourite part of the book is when Richard explores the concept of trompe l’oeil, or playing tricks on the eye - that is when he has an item which looks like something, but is actually a completely different entity. For example, I can’t wait to try his Virtual Egg - something that looks exactly like half a hard-boiled egg, but really has mozzarella cheese for the “egg white” and yellow tomato for the “yolk”.

Today, I stuck with something a lot easier. The reconstructed lemon eggs are essentially a layer of lemon curd, sandwiched between two layers of meringue and served in an egg shell, so that when you dip your spoon in, it’s almost like eating a soft boiled egg. They’re really easy to make and taste divine, and I’d encourage anyone who’s entertaining soon and looking to impress (without killing yourself in the kitchen) to give it a shot.


Reconstructed Lemon Egg
(adapted from Happy In The Kitchen)

6 large eggs
1/4 cup of granulated sugar
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (I used the juice from about 3 medium sized lemons)
25g unsalted butter, cut into cubes

Special equipment:
a cardboard egg carton
egg topper or serrated knife
disposable piping bags
blowtorch

Preheat the oven to 120°C.

Cut off the narrow end of each egg. I started out using an egg topper, but it didn’t work too well, so if you don’t have one (or don’t have one that works well), lay your egg on a towel, and saw halfway through using a serrated knife firmly but gently. Hold the egg upright, and remove and discard the tops. Empty the contents into a bowl, and separate two of the egg yolks from the egg whites, and reserve the other four whole eggs for another use. Ensure that the whites are completely free of yolk - if any of the yolks broke, use “clean” whites from the other eggs. Cover the bowl containing egg whites with clingfilm and set aside at room temperature. Place the yolks into a large heatproof bowl.

Wash out the shells, and pull the membrane out from the inside. Discard. Remove any chipped pieces from the edges of the shell, and discard. Turn the eggs upside down, place them in the egg carton, and place in the oven for a few minutes to dry out.

For the lemon curd, whisk 1/8 cup of the sugar into the yolks until pale and creamy. Add in the lemon juice, whisk, then place over a bain-marie and add the butter in one piece at a time. Carry on whisking until the curd has thickened to a thick custard (about 8 minutes), ensuring that the whisk comes into contact with the bottom of the bowl to ensure that none of the egg yolk gets overcooked. Press a piece of clingfilm down to the surface of the curd to prevent a skin from forming (but use a sharp knife to poke a couple of holes in the clingfilm so it can still “breathe”), and let cool to room temperature. Refrigerate until cold. This can be made up to 3 days in advance.

For the meringue, place the egg whites in the bowl of your KitchenAid stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, and whisk on high speed until very foamy and fluffy (there should not be any liquid egg white at the bottom of the bowl anymore). Slowly start adding in the other 1/8 cup of sugar, and continue to beat on high until stiff, glossy peaks form.

Fill one piping bag (or large ziplock bag) with the meringue carefully, then fill the another with the lemon curd. Cut a small opening (about 1/4 inch in diameter) in the bags to pipe, or use 1/4-1/2 inch plain tips. Stand the dry egg shells, cut side up, in the egg carton. Pipe the meringue into the egg shells, filling each one about 1/3 fill. Pipe the lemon curd onto the whites so the shells are two-thirds full. Pipe more meringue, allowing it to mound over the top, making a small dome.

Brown the tops of the meringue with a blowtorch (or if you don’t have one, preheat your broiler with the rack in the upper third of the oven and place the carton on a baking sheet and under the broiler to brown the meringue). Serve immediately in individual egg cups.

Yield: Makes 6. One each was just about right for a small dessert at the end of a 5 course meal, but you can easily double this recipe - as it was originally intended to be - and serve each person two eggs. I just got a refill.

I love eggs. No, seriously, I love eggs. You know how you always have one retarded friend who’d take it upon themselves to inflict misery on you by forcing you to imagine what it would be like to only have one thing in the world that you could eat for the rest of your life? When that retarded friend of mine comes along, I always say eggs. (Maybe with prawns.)

As I mentioned previously, there’s a new cookbook store in town. And the first book that I picked off the shelves was Michel Roux’s Eggs. While my interest was simply piqued thanks to the rather in-your-face cover, I was immediately sold when I flipped through and found pages and pages of beautiful recipes, all of which either primarily feature eggs, or are on dishes whose specific characteristics rely on the behaviour of eggs (in whole or in part) to provide those features. And, as if I needed any more encouraging, amazing food photography accompanies the majority of these pages.

On Monday, I was due to cook for a friend’s birthday, while her girlfriend was out of town. (Babysitters.com, remember?) Unfortunately, she fell sick in the end, and hence the meal that was planned for her never really made it out the door. Or, it did, but it went straight into someone else’s mouth. Wei, lurking around after her immensely satisfying visit to 25 degree Celsius, quickly volunteered to fill in, and was hence treated to beer battered fish and chips, served with malt vinegar, tartar sauce, and some mustard Hollandaise. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

For our starters, I wanted very much to try a recipe that I saw in the abovementioned book. Its a recipe for sunny side up quails eggs, on miniature (4cm in diameter!) toast rounds and served with a light Hollandaise. However, due to some developments at work, I’m also a little obsessed with poaching eggs at the moment. Further, the bunny has been pleading with me - and making the bunny face - asking for Eggs Benedict for the longest time. Hence, I did a miniature version of Eggs Benedict, sans the bacon (which I kind of forgot about).

Mini Eggs Benedict
(inspired by a recipe from Michel Roux’s Eggs)

8 quails eggs (plus one or two extra if you’re not confident)
2 slices of plain white bread
melted butter
white vinegar
2 rashers of streaky bacon, halved crosswise.
chives to garnish
mustard Hollandaise (recipe follows)

Saw off the rounded ends of your quails eggs with a serrated knife, and place them in individual saucers. Bring a deep pot of water (at least 8-10cm deep) to the boil and add 2 tbsp of vinegar. This will help the egg whites to coagulate. When it starts to boil, gently tip one saucer at a time into the water where the bubbles are, then use a spoon to swirl the water around the egg to create a ‘whirlpool’. Let it cook for about 45 seconds over medium-low heat, and when cooked (press gently on the yolk to ascertain if it is done to your liking), remove using a slotted spoon, and transfer to an ice bath to arrest the cooking process. Repeat with the rest of the eggs.

When all the eggs are cooked, use a small knife to trim the edges. This can be done up to 2 days in advance and stored in the fridge in a bowl of cold water.

Prepare the mustard Hollandaise, and grill the bacon in the oven until crisp.

Use a 4cm pastry cutter and cut two rounds from each slice of bread. Toast the bread lightly on both sides until golden, then brush one side with the melted butter and keep warm. Heat a small saucepan of water to a simmer, then immerse all the eggs in for 10-15 seconds, just to warm through.

To serve, place one toasted round on each plate, buttered side up. Place one piece of crisped bacon on the bread, then top with two poached quails eggs. Cover half of each quails egg with some mustard Hollandaise, then serve a little extra on the side in a small spoon. Garnish with chives.

Yield: Serves 4.

Mustard Hollandaise

1 tsp white wine vinegar
1/2 tsp white peppercorns, crushed
1 egg yolk
65g clarified butter, cooled to tepid
1-2 tbsp lemon juice

20ml double cream
10g Dijon mustard
sea salt and powdered white pepper

Mix the vinegar with 1 tbsp cold water and the crushed white peppercorns in a saucepan. Reduce by one third, and leave to cool. Add egg yolk to the cold reduction, and whisk. Place your saucepan on a heat diffuser and whisk continuously until the sauce emulsifies, becoming very smooth and creamy after 8-10 minutes, with the heat gradually increasing. Do not allow the temperature to rise above 65C.

Off the heat, still whisking, drizzle the tepid clarified butter in a steady stream. Stir in the lemon juice, and pass the sauce through a muslin lined chinois to eliminate the peppercorns.

Whip the double cream in a bowl to soft peaks, then mix in the mustard until evenly blended. Whisk the mustard cream, little by little, into the Hollandaise. Season with sea salt and powdered white pepper to taste, and serve.

Note: The Hollandaise will not keep for long, so prepare it as close to serving as you can. Otherwise, keep it warm in a bain-marie (with hot water - not simmering water), with some clingfilm pressed down to the surface for an hour at most.

That is, the cupcakes. Red Velvet Cakes have rather befuddled me for quite a while now - try as I might, I can’t really seem to find a satisfactory explanation as to why one would want such unnaturally coloured food! According to wikipedia (every student’s favourite source), the red colour first came about as a reaction between the vinegar in the cake and the cocoa powder, and following the introduction of Dutch Processed cocoa powder, red food colouring has since stepped up to enable us to recreate the deep red hue, as the increase in alkalinity results in a dramatic decrease in this colourful reaction.

I don’t actually remember when I first heard about these peculiar cakes. But I do remember thinking that it was such a delightful sounding name - Red Velvet brings to mind the image of a deep burnished hue, and a creamy, luscious texture. Having seen a whole bunch of recipes that differ quite dramatically from each other, I approached The Chin Chai Chef and got the original NY Times recipe that hers was based on. Like her, I decided to go with the Orange-Ginger Cream Cheese Frosting (without omitting the ginger, this time), and the results proved lovely. After all, it’s difficult to fail with orange and chocolate. :)

Red Velvet Cupcakes
(Adapted from the NY Times)

3½ cups cake flour
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa (not Dutch processed)
1½ tsp salt
2 cups canola oil
2 cups granulated sugar
3 large eggs
3 tbsp red food colouring
1½ tsp vanilla extract
1¼ cup buttermilk
2 tsp baking soda
2½ tsp white vinegar

Preheat oven to 180°C and line your cupcake tray with liners. Whisk flour, cocoa powder, and salt in a bowl. Place oil and sugar in the bowl of your KitchenAid fitted with the paddle attachment and beat at medium speed until well blended. Beat in eggs one at a time, scraping down the sides as necessary.

With the machine on the lowest speed possible, add red food colouring carefully, as it may splash. Add the vanilla, then add the flour mixture in two batches, alternating with the buttermilk. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and beat just long enough to combine.

Place baking soda in a small dish, stir in the vinegar and add to batter with machine running. Beat for 10 additional seconds.

Divide the batter amongst the cupcake liners (I filled mine just over half full - about 55-60g of batter per cupcake), then place in oven and bake for about 20-22 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the centre of the cupcake comes out clean. Remove the cakes from the tray and cool on a wire rack completely before frosting.

Orange-Ginger Cream Cheese Frosting
(adapted from a Martha Stewart recipe)

100g unsalted butter, at room temperature
500g cream cheese, at room temperature
100g icing sugar, sifted
finely grated zest of one medium preferably unwaxed orange
1 tsp finely grated, peeled fresh ginger
pinch of salt

In the bowl of your KitchenAid fitted with a paddle attachment, beat butter on medium-high speed until light and fluffy; about 2 minutes. Add cream cheese, beat until well combined and fluffy; another 2 minutes. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and beat for another 30 seconds. Add remaining ingredients and beat for 5 minutes. Frosting can be kept at room temperature, covered with clingfilm, for up to 2 hours.

Yield: 30 Cupcakes and enough cream cheese to frost them all!

Well, not quite hot, but things are certainly warming up with new kid on the block 25 degree Celsius. A couple of days ago, a dear friend texted to say that she’d found a new cafe/cookbook store in Keong Saik Road (just down from 1929, and across from Whatever cafe). Very familiar with my compulsion for buying things-that-I-already-have-too-many-of (i.e. cookbooks - and also teeshirts), she then requested that I not tell the bunny where this tip came from.

I’d imagined that it would be more of a cafe with a few shelves of cookbooks on sale, but 25°C is more accurately described as a small bookstore, devoted entirely to cookbooks (and a few non-recipe-books related to food), with a test kitchen and a small seating area for the cafe at the rear. I felt like I’d stepped straight into heaven - conversely, and into bunny’s worst nightmare - when I crossed the threshold. Floor to ceiling shelves! Lined with cookbooks! On almost any topic imaginable! By all manner of authors! And reasonably priced too!

I first visited 25°C on Saturday, just stopping in to check it out and grab a cup of coffee - which was delicious, by the way! Apparently, it’s a secret blend they import from Taiwan. I left almost 2 hours later with my pockets significantly emptier, and loaded with four books to add to my already sagging shelves. And mind you, I only left with four since I was limited by she-who-guards-the-bookshelf. Of the four, my favourite has to be The Cookie Sutra, which I only spotted because I accidentally knocked it off the shelf while staring at the books on baking, but immediately had to buy when I flipped through it for its hilarious pictures and witty quips. (Take a look inside and you’ll know what I mean.)

Having been dragged out against my will since it was time for me to head back to work, I made a reservation for lunch there today, and invited two friends who share my love for food (and cooking) to join me in the heart of the Bukit Pasoh Conservation Area. I was really eager to try out the food there (having spotted duck confit on the menu), and couldn’t have been gladder that I did. In the end, I decided to go with the minute steak, which was a lovely melt-in-your-mouth slice of beef, lightly marbled with fat and so incredibly tender that I actually got a slight shock when my knife went through it with almost no effort at all. The confit, which both my friends had, however, was a little overcooked and ended up being slightly tough around the edges - which was a pity - but the one thing that both dishes shared were the friggin’ unbelievably tasty potato sides. The confit was served with a caramelized onion mash, and I had pan-fried potatoes which were lightly crisped on the outside and so fluffy on the inside to go with my steak. The three of us also shared two desserts - a sticky date toffee pudding that was drenched in butterscotch and flavoured with plenty of nutmeg, along with a warm Valrhona chocolate fondant which tasted like pure, crazy-delicious chocolate fudge.

I’m so glad that I’ve found this place. It’s a lovely quiet-ish, cosy refuge from the hustle and bustle of the area, and one that’s rather reminiscent of an English book cafe you’d escape the thick of winter in, warming up over a steaming cup of tea and a good read. They encourage browsing - so long as you don’t do it with food on the table - and I forsee myself spending many Monday afternoons hanging out here, and I’d definitely recommend like-minded cookbook junkies to head on over too!

25 Degree Celsius
25 Keong Saik Road #01-01
Singapore 089132
Tel: +65 6225 5986

And my bunny is no different. Today’s her birthday, and since I’ve made a habit of baking something on Mondays - my off day - I decided to let her pick what I’d bake this week. I had hardly finished asking her when she immediately squeaked, “CAAAN WE HAAAVE CARROT CUPCAKES? WITH THE LITTLE BABY CARROTS?”

She was talking about these little sugar decorations that we’d chanced upon while in Sydney over my birthday, which I’d conned her into buying.

When we first moved in together, Bunny and I would go out for a nice dinner at least once a month - “date night” we called it. Date Night was really just our excuse to go out and splurge on ourselves. Ever since we moved into our current apartment that came with a nice kitchen that I’ve since fastidiously decked out, instead of going out to spend time together, we now love nothing more than being able to have a quiet night in, just the two of us, over a meal that I’ve cooked for her. Since I’ve started work, we obviously can’t eat together - whether at home or dining out - as much as we would like. As such, I thought I’d not just bake cupcakes, but cook dinner for the two of us at home. On the menu were Pork Chops with a Mustard Sauce (from Nigel Slater’s The Kitchen Diaries, a book that’s bursting at the seams with oodles of thoroughly English recipes), a beautiful orange sorbet from the same book, and - as requested - Carrot Cupcakes.

I know many people (my age) looking in would imagine that she and I lead rather boring lives - we both go to work, we hardly see each other till after 11 at night. We don’t even get weekends together. When we have time to spend together, instead of going out and painting the town red, we opt to stay in and lie in each others’ arms, just enjoying the quiet silence of each others company. Yet, there’s nothing more that I could want in this world. Nothing gets me through those days where I spend 12 hours standing in a hot, humid kitchen, assembling starter and dessert after starter and dessert than knowing that at the end of the day, she’ll be there for me to climb into bed right next to and fall asleep with, and that no matter how smelly I am, and no matter how loud I snore, she’ll be here by my side.

Happy birthday baby. I’m so glad I’ve been able to spend the last 3 with you, and I look forward to the next 50 together.