Stuff to eat. Mostly around St. Louis.
Peach & Chamomile Panna Cotta
St. Louis summer can be brutal. Oppressive humidity, days where it’s as hot as the desert, spiders. Sometimes I wonder why anyone decided to settle here.
On the other hand, we have some amazing summertime produce. Tomatoes, sweet corn, blackberries. I crush farmer’s markets all summer. And, when I’m feeling particularly outdoorsy, I’ll head over to Eckert’s in Belleville and pick my own.
The Eckert’s family has been growing peaches in the greater St. Louis area since 1837. They’ve got it down. They know what they’re doing. I picked one the other day that was literally the size of a softball. And by picked, I mean Chris Eckert handed it to me when we were out in the field.
“Pick Your Own Peach” season is in full swing, which is great news if you’ve got kids or you and your boo are looking for an out-of-the-box date. If you’re not so into picking fruit but you are into eating it, a day trip to the farm is still nice. They’ve got the country store, which is more like Eckert’s own Whole Foods, chock full of their amazing fruits and vegetables, local meat, wine, and a million jarred goods using their fruit. Peach butter? Strawberry salsa? HELLO.
I am not a pastry chef. In fact, I’m pretty terrible at making even the simplest of desserts. Ashley Rouch, however, is my opposite. She’s the pastry chef of Reeds American Table, and she’s created a dessert that is so good, it makes me feel guilty for all the mean things I’ve ever said about panna cotta. It’s a bit of work, but it’s going to blow you away. More photos follow the recipe.
Peach & Chamomile Panna Cotta
YIELDS ROUGHLY 10 SMALL PANNA COTTAS
INGREDIENTS
CHAMOMILE POACHED PEACHES
2 cups white wine
2 cups sugar
¼ cup chamomile
¼ vanilla bean
1 strip lemon zest
9 small slightly unripe peaches, pitted and quartered
METHOD
Cut and make a cheesecloth sack (or buy from Amazon). Add the loose chamomile and tie shut. You don’t want to pick loose chamomile flowers from the poaching liquid, do you?
In a pot, combine the wine, 2 cups of water, sugar, chamomile, ¼ vanilla bean, and lemon zest. Bring to a boil.
Add the peaches to the pot, taking care not to crowd the pot. Reduce the heat to barely a simmer. Cut out a round piece of parchment paper (once again, Amazon to the rescue) and place it over the surface of the poaching liquid. Simmer until the peaches feel tender to the touch and are bright orange in color, about 7-10 minutes. (Remember: use slightly unripe peaches so they don’t turn to mush!)
Pour them into a container and put the container in an ice bath to cool. Store in the refrigerator for up to a week.
INGREDIENTS
CHAMOMILE HONEY PANNA COTTA
4 cups cream
40 g chamomile
2 cup milk
10.5 g powdered gelatin
½ cup honey
1 t vanilla extract
Chamomile Poached peaches
Pinch of Salt
METHOD
Grease and prepare your ramekins.
Heat the cream in a pot until simmering. Add the chamomile, turn off the heat, and let steep for 20 minutes. Strain the cream through a sieve, or cheesecloth, into a clean bowl, and set aside.
Pour the milk into a pot and sprinkle the gelatin evenly over the top, but do not stir. Let the gelatin soften until the grains look wet and like they are beginning to dissolve (see the photo of the pot below—the top has developed a skin), about 10 minutes. After the gelatin has bloomed, warm the milk and gelatin over very low heat, whisking occasionally, until the gelatin dissolves, 3-5 minutes. Be careful not to let the mixture boil. Once the gelatin is dissolved turn off the heat.
Whisk in the honey, vanilla, and salt. Add the chamomile infused cream and whisk to combine. Put in an ice bath (or your fridge) until completely cool.
Spray the bottom of your ramekins with cooking spray. Portion into your ramekins.
PUTTING IT ALL TOGETHER
If you want to go for the full Reeds experience, reduce the peach poaching liquid down until it’s a thick syrup, almost like honey.
Run a pastry spatula down the sides, then turn the panna cottas over onto serving plates. Drizzle with the reduced syrup, toss some pistachios on top, then add the peaches.
This post is sponsored by Eckert’s.
Sunshine Dust Ginger Cookies
Let’s just call these rustic cookies, okay? I simply do not possess the finesse needed to make beautiful desserts. I require years of training. I don’t think I’d last 10 minutes at La Patisserie Chouquette, unless they needed someone to mop or do dishes.
Ginger cookies run in my blood—in fact, my last name, Pernikoff, means gingerbread in Czech. We Pernikovs probably owned the La Patisserie Chouquette of a Slavic shtetl, known for miles as the place to get all things ginger. Hell, maybe one of my ancestors was like Dominique Ansel and was the first to take boring old gingerbread cookies and use them for architecture models.
When the team behind Big Heart Tea Co. (formerly Retrailer Tea) and I touched base about doing a recipe using their new Cup of Sunshine dust—a finely pulverized version of their Cup of Sunshine tea—a fiery blend of turmeric, ginger, lemongrass, and peppercorn, this is what came to mind. A chewy ginger cookie, chock full of crystalized ginger hunks, finished with a Cup of Sunshine dust glaze. Voila!
YIELD: ABOUT 40 COOKIES
INGREDIENTS
GINGER COOKIES
RECIPE ADAPTED FROM BON APPETIT
2.5 C AP flour
1 C minced crystallized ginger
2 t baking soda
1/4 t salt
1.5 sticks unsalted butter, room temp
1 C brown sugar
1 egg, room temp
1/4 cup light molasses
1.5 t ground ginger
1 t ground cinnamon
1/2 t ground cloves
GLAZE
1 C + 3 T powdered sugar
2 T milk
1/2 t Cup of Sunshine dust
METHOD
You can bake two trays per oven—put one tray towards the top, one towards the bottom. Preheat to 350F.
Combine flour, crystallized ginger, baking soda, and salt in a bowl. In a mixer, beat butter until creamy; about 2 min. Slowly added the brown sugar and continue mixing until well incorporated; about 3 minutes. Add egg, molasses, ginger, cinnamon, cloves, and beat until blended. With mixer on low, slowly add flour mix.
Line trays with parchment.
Scoop out tablespoon side balls of dough, roll into a ball, then flatten slightly on the parchment. They won’t spread much. Bake for 8 minutes and check doneness—you want them to be slightly firm. Place on a rack to cool.
For the glaze, simply mix together the glaze ingredients in a bowl until well incorporated. Apply glaze to cookies however you see fit. I’m sure you’ll do better than me.
Nathaniel Reid Bakery
I went to France for 2 weeks in 2006, which makes me uniquely qualified to discuss lespâtisseries viennoises, entremets, and baguettes. I see myself as a cross between Mary Berry and Pierre Hermé. When I heard Nathaniel Reid Bakery opened in Kirkwood, I wanted to make sure he knew who he was dealing with. I showed up looking Parisian as hell in my black and white striped shirt, tight black pants, and smug attitude. I peppered the staff with important questions, like where is your beurre from and do you have free samples. I don't want to brag, but they know me there now.
I've gone to Nathaniel Reid Bakery (NRB) close to 10 times now, I think. "Stop eating so much sugar and butter," my doctor would say if I had health insurance. But I do this for you people. I needed to try as much as I could so I could soundly recommend items. My altruistic, selfless nature never ceases to impress me.
When you walk in, before you even look at the display case, head to the far wall, a Willy Wonka-esque treasure trove of chocolates, nougats, caramels, meringues, chocolate pearls. The last two are perfect for prettying up that pathetic attempt at a cake you just made for your kid/spouse. My two favorite jarred goodies: the Spiced Caramel Spread and the strawberry-poppy flower jam. I'd never had poppy flower before (I hoped it would give some sort of opium buzz, but all I got was hyperglycemia), which I found out taste just like cotton candy. And I secretly love cotton candy.
If you'll kindly turn your head to the right, you'll see the display case. This is what you came here for. Colors. Glazes. Shapes. Ooh. NRB typically has 6 to 8 types of macarons in their case, each with a pronounced flavor but a texture that's fairly different than La Patisserie Chouquette's. I don't know if one is more French than the other because I didn't eat any macarons in France during that trip a decade ago. I would happily eat both, Nathaniel's in my left hand, Chouquette's in my right.
The viennoiserie options vary depending on the time of day, what's in season, etc. What I'm trying to say is that you might see a picture of an apple pastry today, but next week, when you go, it'll be pear. And you'll inevitably tweet at me about it, whining. You snooze, you lose.
If you're a NRB rookie, grab an assortment of breakfast pastries. Below, you'll see their pecan cinnamon roll, a croissant, and the love of my life: their twice baked almond-chocolate croissant. The croissant, decked out with dark chocolate, is sliced open and slathered with almond paste, topped with more chocolate, then baked until extra crispy. I like to bite into it while staring directly into Nathaniel's eyes and tell him "good bake" a la Paul Hollywood.
I've been watching a lot of Great British Bake Off lately.
NRB has delicious sandwiches (and salads, but salads are too healthy) available for lunch, with my favorite being the roast beef. It's a simple sandwich, the kind I'd buy on my morning stroll back when I was living in France for those two weeks, made with tender roast beef, slivers of red onion, a slice of cheese, and horseradish aioli. Though, to be honest, it's the bread that wins me over: brioche (aka butter) bread with a sprinkling of shaved parmesan on top. Molto Bene! as the French say.
Where NRB really shines is with their entremets, also known as "them fancy cakes" if you're from St. Charles. Reid's creations are incredible, undoubtedly some of the most delicious entremets I've ever had. And the detail work that goes into ever component is mind-boggling. Here's the recipe for the Amber cake below. Are you going to attempt that at home? I didn't think so.
He's so good, in fact, that the Nathaniel Reid you see in the picture below isn't even him. That's 6 feet of spun sugar. He's that good.
Almost all of the entremets are available as full sized cakes, or in miniature form. The Amber is all about pecans and caramel. For something more tropical, the tangerine-colored Polynesia is a banana-passion fruit cream and coconut mousse cake. Not pictured, because I ate it without thinking, is the Sambava, a mix of chocolate, hazelnut and vanilla. My current favorite, being that I'm addicted to pistachio, is the Jarmo pistachio cake with a berry gelée and pistachio cream.
Before we go, I have to give special kudos to Señor Reid, for he has done the impossible. He has taken up the challenge of improving the much maligned, oft ignored fruit cake and turning it into something people actually want to eat. I guess opening a bakery and having a baby in the last 4 or so months wasn't hard enough.
I'm pleased to say that I enjoyed his fruit cake, which he tells me took nearly 7 years to perfect, immensely. It doesn't feel like you're eating a spiced brick, thanks in part to a proprietary technique he developed. He soaks and candies all the the fruits and nuts himself. It's a labor of love and you can taste it.
I know it's hard to believe, but your friends and family will actually thank you for bringing it to their [Insert Holiday] party.
Chouquette's Canelé
You're looking at that picture and thinking about canelés, thinking to yourself that this post seems familiar. It should. Since I started Whiskey And Soba, I have pushed hard for you to go try La Patisserie Chouquette's canelés and I see no reason to stop pushing now. For over two years, these have remained my favorite French pastry in a shop full of remarkable French pastries. But why? you wonder to yourself. How could this oversized thimble be his favorite in a shop full of cakes and eclairs and macarons?
The exterior, crunchy, caramelized—but not burnt—thanks to the beeswax brushed copper molds Chouquette uses. Cracked open, they're a pale yellow, the filling soft and custardy. Slightly sweet, with hints of rum and vanilla. Or, on occasion, lemon and thyme. They're basically tiny cakes made of crepe batter (though I'm sure the French would take exception with that statement).
So many pastries scream their flavors; there's no ignoring the butter of a croissant or the black sesame filling of a Paris-Brest. The canelé is the subtle, seductive mistress of Bordeaux. Perhaps that's why I like them so much—I don't have much of a sweet tooth. The only dessert I have ever truly loved, I think, is tiramisu. Yet I cannot go into Chouquette without getting one of these. In an ideal world, I would eat one of these every day with my breakfast, but unfortunately, I don't live close enough to do that.
The next time I leave Union Loafers and walk over to Chouquette, I better not see any canelés left. I am requiring that you buy one with every purchase you make there—you should leave with a Darkness in one hand and a canelé in the other.
You can thank me in the comments below when you see how right I am.
Ices Plain and Fancy
Very rarely does a visit to a restaurant (or in this case, an ice cream parlor) allow me to "review" two separate subjects. The main purpose of this post is to discuss St. Louis' only nitro ice cream parlor, Ices Plain & Fancy. The secondary purpose of this post—and of my visit to Ices—is to test out an apparent miracle drug, Lactaid. While I do dabble in dairy, as seen by my plentiful pizza posts, consuming large amounts of ice cream has been known to make for difficult drives home. What better way to test Lactaid then to have a midday ice cream feast?
With its brightly painted facade, Ices is easy to spot in its Shaw neighborhood location. I park just outside (not too many people are eating ice cream at 2pm on a Wednesday) and head in, greeted by the smell of waffle cones being made. As a chunky youngster who couldn't handle his ice cream, waffle cones were my jam. Those were the days when coconut milk ice cream hadn't been invented, soy milk was still only in Asia, and people who were lactose intolerant were shunned by society. I miss the 90's.
I'm meeting Troika Brodsky, one of Ices' owners and formerly my camp counselor, for this feast. While he talks business with his partners, Max and Darla Crask, I peruse the much larger than expected menu. There are normal ices, like chocolate, vanilla, and rocky road, dairy-free ices made of both soy and coconut milk, Sump Coffee collaborations, and soft serve. There are two fancy ice specials: Campfire Smores and World's Fair Jelly Donut. I want all of these.
Oh, there are also very boozy ice cream cocktails. I cannot make a decision, so I defer all ice cream orders to Max and Troika.
The first ice cream we get is Mrs. Marshall's Old Fashioned. I assumed they had some kind of Old Fashioned concentrate that they would mix into the ice cream base, but that is not the case. Our ice cream artist literally is making an Old Fashioned and pouring it into the mixing bowl. A full cocktail's worth of Old Granddad bourbon, Strongbow Cider, vanilla, bitters, Luxardo cherry, and orange peel all go in and the mixing begins. Because they pour in liquid nitrogen, the alcohol actually freezes, meaning the ice cream you get has retained all the proof of the booze that went in.
Yes. You can get buzzed (or hammered, if you're really dedicated) from these ice creams. The result is delicious—it has all the flavors of your typical Old Fashioned, but it's edible. This is like something out of the Jetsons, a world where all foods can be consumed in ice cream form.
Lactaid update: I take the Lactaid with my first bite of ice cream, as instructed.
Max tells us he's going to whip up something special, but needs a few minutes, so Darla, the wonderful woman she is, brings me a dairy-free version of the boozy Ancho & Lefty: Ancho Reyes, Aztec chocolate bitters, ancho powder, chocolate, cocoa nibs. This is absurd. It is simply too good. I've always been a fan of Aztec chocolate—that mix of chocolate and the heat of ancho or cayenne—but this it out of this world. I stealthily push the Old Fashioned towards Troika and position my chocolate out of his reach. This is more ice cream than I've consumed in the last decade.
Lactaid update: I've had a hefty amount of ice cream in the last 15 minutes and still feel fine.
Max beckons me behind the counter and immediately creates a ball of fire using an aerosol can and a blowtorch. I ask him what he's doing (I'm not sure if this is for ice cream making, for fun, or both) and he explains that he's torching absinthe—it's Sazerac time! Templeton rye and Sirene Absinthe go into the bowl, then the final product is given another spritz of absinthe, a few drops of Peychaud's Bitters, and an orange peel. This thing would sell like beignets down in New Orleans! Troika and I work diligently to eat our three large ice cream bowls.
Lactaid update: Three ice creams in and I feel fine. I'm scared to drive home, though.
We finish things off by literally drinking the now melting ice cream cocktails. After three ice cream cocktails in a matter of about 35 minutes, I'm wildly impressed by Ices and I completely understand the massive lines that form in summer. There's something about the way the ice cream freezes with the nitrogen that gives it a much creamier, smooth taste that I love. Max said something about ice crystals, but I was 3 cocktails deep and all I started thinking about was what color lightsaber crystal I would pick if I were a Jedi. I recommend you go to Guerrilla Street Food for a late lunch, then head over to Ices. Win/win.
Lactaid Update: I hesitantly left Ices feeling perfectly fine, but well aware I had a 25 minute drive ahead of me. Then, of course, there was a car accident, changing my drive to one that took almost 45 minutes. I'm happy to say the Lactaid worked like magic. I'm back in the dairy game, baby!
La Patisserie Chouquette
With the holidays just around the corner, you've got a lot of entertaining, gift buying, and, more importantly, gift receiving ahead of you. Impress your friends and family with a box of goodies from La Patisserie Chouquette, my go-to for all things sugary and delicious. I took it upon myself to go and try all their winter offerings so I could tell you what you need to be getting (or asking for). I'm sorry in advance for making you hungry.
The Darkness
You claim you love chocolate, but there's only one way to prove it: The Darkness croissant. If you can consume this monument to decadence, this vortex of dark Dominican chocolate, then I'll believe you. Simone spent years (decades?) perfecting this recipe and the result is, uh, perfection. Fellas, think of this as a "forgiveness grenade." Next time you do something wrong, swing by Chouquette, get one of these, and consider yourself out of the doghouse.
Turducken Croissant
Thanksgiving is over, but Chouquette doesn't care. All of December is Turducken month. These football sized croissants are filled with roasted turkey, duck, and chicken mixed with Simone's famous smoked bacon and cheddar cornbread (see below), cranberry orange chutney, and a smattering of French fried onions. Each croissant comes with a side of gravy. Good luck.
Red Velvet Cheesecake
This is the classic Red Velvet cake flavor in Chouquette's soft, sensuous cheesecake. It's topped with waves of rich chocolate cream and a macaron shell garnish. Additionally, it's cut into a rectangular shape so you can easily eat it with just your hands while driving. At least I think that's why it's cut like that…
Canelé
So many Chouquetters get caught up in the glitz and glamour of the cakes, eclairs, and macarons that they end up ignoring these little brown thimbles called canelé (can-ul-ay). That's a rookie mistake. These are my favorite pastries...ever? The outside is crunchy, the inside is soft and pillowy with hints of vanilla and, if you're lucky, lemon and thyme. It's like a tiny cake made with crepe batter. The flavor is sublime.
Chouxnuts
Just after scolding you for only buying the pretty pastries, I'm telling you to buy them. Chouquette's take on the Paris-Brest, a round eclair, are their chouxnuts. Get it? It's a choux pastry but it looks like a donut. The fillings change daily and have included matcha, strawberry, apple cheesecake, bourbon pecan, and Boston cream pie, to name just a few.
Bacon Cornbread Muffin
It's a muffin made out of cornbread mixed with cheddar cheese and smoked bacon. What else do you need to know?
Tiramisu Brownie
For a good portion of my life, I didn't like any desserts except for tiramisu. No tiramisu on the menu? No dessert for Spencer. I've since branched out (obviously), but it still holds a special place in my heart. This brownie—which is almost as massive as the Turducken croissant—hits the spot.
Macarons
You knew these would be on the list, didn't you? No one in St. Louis is doing macarons better than Chouquette. Each little sugary sandwich is packed with flavor, and their fall/winter selections so far have been particularly delicious, including gingerbread, eggnog, "skinny mint", red velvet, and more.
For the full range of what Chouquette has to offer, make sure to go on a Saturday!
La Patisserie Chouquette
1626 Tower Grove Ave
St. Louis, MO 63110
314.932.7935
2am:dessertbar
The "World's 50 Best" awards are a bit of a sham, but seeing that Singaporean Janice Wong had won Best Pastry Chef in 2013 & 2014 had me intrigued. Her restaurant, 2am:dessertbar, is tucked away behind and above a bar in Holland Village. Known for their beautiful, inventive, and delicious desserts, I decided it was something I shouldn't pass up. 2am opens at 3pm and closes at 2am, making it a fun late night stop for a cocktail and treat. Patricia and I opted to go at 4pm on a weekday because we're just that wild.
From the restaurant's website, I thought it was going to be dark and moody, with spotlights aiming down at the table, creating an air of theater and mystery. Instead, it was like pretty much any other restaurant. Even the music seemed slightly off; I had imagined the kind of music you might hear at a W Hotel would be playing, all helping to create a very cool experience.
With only two other tables taken when we arrived, we had our choice of seats. We ended up at the bar, right where the wall curve upwards.
Reviews of 2am constantly reference terrible service and I will wholeheartedly agree with that sentiment. The waiter did everything he could to avoid us, and when we finally got him at our table, it seemed like every request was a chore. I think if we had asked for one more thing (god forbid we want some water), his reaction would have been like this.
Service and ambiance aside, we decided we'd get three desserts to split. Aggravatingly, all three were brought out at the same time. If we had ordered two desserts, for one person, I can understand that; but you would think that when two people order three desserts, that they would space it or at least give us a heads up—especially when each dessert has parts that will melt. Instead of a leisurely mid-day meal, we had to scarf down all three desserts in a hurry so we could actually taste them.
The first dessert was [symple_highlight color="blue"]Purple[/symple_highlight]: purple potato puree, blackberry parfait, fruit leather, lavender marshmallows, fruits of the forest sorbet. It seems like a waste to put so much work into so many elements when it all ends up tasting the same. As the dish melted (very quickly), we both agreed that it all just sort of tasted like a berry sorbet. We tasted no lavender and no purple potato.
The [symple_highlight color="blue"]Hojicha Sesame[/symple_highlight] was the highlight of the desserts, namely because of the tofu parfait and hojicha custard. The tofu was dense and creamy, and when paired with the smoky hojicha, it was perfect. The dish should have focused on that and only that.
The right side of the plate had a pear vodka sorbet, what tasted like ginger jellies, and a mushroom crumble. I don't even understand this side of the plate. I didn't think the flavors added anything to the idea of hojicha and sesame, nor did I think they were particularly good. Not only that, but the crumble itself was chewy and stale. The left side of the plate was the best of the day; the right side was the worst.
Our final dessert was [symple_highlight color="blue"]Popcorn[/symple_highlight], a mix of sweet and salty with a very, very tart passionfruit sorbet. Ignoring the stale popcorn (I still don't know if we were supposed to eat it or not—we asked the waiter and he just kind of raised his eyebrows at us), this dish didn't work composed as it was. You had to smash it all up into a mess, melding the flavors together to get it to work.
It did nothing for me. It didn't evoke the taste of popcorn. All it did was taste like salty passionfruit.
Like many other people who have gone to 2am:dessertbar, I was hugely disappointed. The desserts are beautiful and complex, but all that work is wasted when it doesn't taste good. It's sort of like this famous Miss America contestant: she looks good, but that's about it. I thought this would be a no-brainer entry into my Best Desserts of 2015 list, but it won't be appearing there. Perhaps the 2am team should take notes from Bob Zugmaier and Sarah Blue about how to make a dessert that's both beautiful and delicious.
Redhill Hawker Center
I'm standing in the middle of the Redhill hawker, a few minutes walk from the MRT station, already dripping with sweat. The fans of the open air food court don't do enough to cool me off, thanks to my pampered 24/7 air-conditioned life. I walk down the aisles, taking in the nearly 60 hawker stalls. Chicken rice, mee siam, curry chicken, BBQ stingray, dim sum, colorful iced desserts. Too many choices. Too hot to eat. Then I see it, like an oasis in the desert: the juice stand. One large sugar cane juice for me, one large mango-carrot juice for Patricia. Grand total: $3.70. Refreshed by the fresh juices - sugar cane juice rolled out of the long stalks, ripe mangoes blended with carrots - we continued the search for the perfect lunch.
Without visiting, it's impossible to understand the myriad of food options in Singapore. The country is and has been a melting pot since its inception, much like the US, but the size concentrates it. The primary cuisines are Chinese, Malay, Indonesian, and Muslim (typically Indian-esque food), broken down even further by specialty. Stalls tend to be limited to one or two of these - they may only serve bee hoon or satay - and their names reflect that. There's usually a Western-inspired stall, as well, which offers a random mix of spaghetti, chicken nuggets, and burgers. If you're a tourist or expat eating at that stall, you're weak and worthless.
Inside the ever growing number of malls, you'll find the cleaner, more expensive (a term I use loosely) food courts. Anything looks expensive compared to the hawker centers: you can get a 1/4 chicken in a huge bowl of curry with rice and veggies for $4. Same goes for a plate of BBQ duck. Besides the food being cheaper (and arguably better), the hawker centers provide the sort of cultural experiences that the food courts don't: shirtless old men demolishing huge plates of food, bathrooms with a $0.10 entrance fee.
Redhill was the first hawker center I ever visited. I remember walking through the adjacent building and being overwhelmed with the smells of fresh durian and seafood - you always remember your first wet market experience. It's like getting punched in the nose.
That first meal was my introduction to BBQ stingray, coated in thick, spicy sambal, and roti prata, a plate of thin Indian breads served with curry for dipping.
Most hawker centers have at least a few 'famous' stalls, places that you'll have to queue for at peak hours. Some, like Tian Tian Chicken Rice at Maxwell Food Centre, are absurd, with 30-45 minute waiting times for a few slices of chicken. We made the brilliant decision to go later in the day so we could avoid the lines and not have to fight for a table. Important note about food courts/hawker centers: you need to bring something, usually a packet of tissues, to save, or "chope", your seat. You go in, find an empty spot, then toss your choping mechanism down. I realized early on that almost everyone uses the same packets of tissues, which makes it all very confusing. I remedied this by using my business cards for choping, to the amusement of my Singaporean friends.
We stopped at one of the more famous chicken rice stalls. This is the Singaporean dish. You get steamed or roasted chicken - I always get roasted - and a plate of rice cooked in an especially oily chicken broth, plus a small bowl of chicken soup. All that food you see on the tray below was $3.50. That's $2.50 in USD.
I didn't grow up eating chicken rice, so I can't judge them as well as, nor as passionately as, the locals. I thought this was good. The chicken was about as tender as you can make it, the chicken rice tasted like fatty chicken goodness, and when it was all topped with a mix of ginger, chili sauce, and dark sticky soy, it was really, really delicious.
Our appetites are usually large enough to handle another dish or three, but an unplanned large breakfast threw things off. Instead, we headed over to the [symple_highlight color="blue"]Loh Jia Pancake[/symple_highlight] stall for dessert and got an $0.80 paper thin waffle-tasting pancake wrapped around sweet desiccated coconut.
It is, in my humble opinion, imperative that any visitor to Singapore visit a hawker center. Even if you're content on staying in the Orchard Road area, shopping till you drop, the Newton hawker center is just one stop away. Don't be intimidated by the terse vendors or the unfamiliar menus. The food is so cheap that even if you get something you don't like, you can go back up and get something else.
Plus, paying $10 for a meal for two will be a nice break for your wallet after paying $25+ per cocktail and $40-50 per entree at those fancyschmancy places you've been going to.
La Patisserie Chouquette
My favorite way to spend a Saturday is to go to La Patisserie Chouquette, buy one of everything "for later", then shamefully eat half the box in the car. After the guilt wears off, I hop back on the highway and go to Salume Beddu for lunch and do the same thing, substituting pastries for pork. I think Chouquette's creations speak for themselves, so I'm going to let them. Here's a collection of recent purchases I've made there. Chouquette, Early Spring, 2015.
Peach and raspberry coffee cake // White Forest Gateau: Cherry yogurt mousse, cherry citrus gelee and kirsch soaked joconde (almond sponge cake) and gold leaf
Tiramisu // Calling it now, the "Pastry of the Year": Canele
Lemon Thyme and Traditional Caneles
The Damiano: Tiramisu Cream Puff. Dark Cacao Barry Extra Brute Cacao Powder, Sweet Mascarpone Mousse and Espresso Meringue
Roasted Peach Frangipane
No, it's not a donut. This is their Choux-nut, a modern take on the classic Paris-Brest. This one was filled with an apple cream.
Chouquette's recent collaboration with Sump Coffee to create a striking black macaron made with Sump's coffee. The coffee is subtle but outstanding.
Food photography note: if you're an aspiring food photographer/instagrammer, Chouquette is perfect to work on technique. A few of these were shot in the shop, but most were taken home so I could play with different lighting, backgrounds, etc. The frangipanes, tiramisu, and coffee cake were all taken with a studio light (I hate the wood background, but I had already eaten everything by the time I realized that). The Sump macarons, last two canele shots, and the choux-nut were all taken with natural lighting. Working with beautiful products makes your photos instantly look better.
1626 Tower Grove Ave
St. Louis, MO 63110
314.932.7935