Shots to start the day.

I know, I know, this is perhaps the one thousandth time I'm talking about Ann Siang. But let's face it, if there's any place to get your latte on a Sunday morning, this is the best place to be.

It is particularly awesome on weekends, with the slow buzz that makes the lazy Sunday morning perfect. What I love about it really, is that old guildhalls (we actually have a Dried Goods Guildhall!) complete with the low rumble of mahjong tiles emanating behind closed shutters and refurnished shophouses stocked with merchandise carefully sourced from around the world can sit side by side and still look perfectly in sync.

A little bit of old magic never fails to make my day (:

♥ to the best friend who has to constantly put up with my crazy random exploration habits.

Surprise ♥

Look who decided that I needed a smile to start my morning?

Straws and My Tart Craze

The one thing I missed out 3 years in ol'London was strawberry picking. The season of straws always coincided with the dreaded examinations or post-exams when exploring Europe was more in vogue. Last year was no exception, with my examinations stretching way longer than everyone.

So while the flatmate and his visiting brother happily trooped out to pick/eat/both straws, I was stuck at home with my nose plastered to my books in a desperate bid to reverse my fate. T'was a real bummer to say the least, but of course, the said flatmate did come back with a huge box of straws for us and made a really yummy traditional Eton Mess out of his yummy picks.

With my last tart crust turning out into a joke (see mango tart post), I was quite adament on making a successful tart - both process and end product. And yay! finally managed to beat the heat (with flour) and rolled out my tart crust the way it should have been done (: Chef G would've been proud.

And then I found out that my sis finished the milk. Imagine my horror! To have a tart shell and gorgeous red straws lying around and NO milk to make the pastry cream. I think I must make an awful chef- no maison en plus whatsoever and always finding out that I'm lacking some ingredient or another at the very last minute. But, I decided to substitute it with whipping cream instead. Not as smooth as desired, but still, a fuller bodied (in terms of fat percentage) denser creme patissier made its debut.

Don't straws just make you want to smile?

Sunday Brunch Out

Picnic plans on Saturday had to be shelved last minute due to certain last minute responses to the exigencies of a biannual event. But, when you've been looking forward to it for the past two weeks, shelving plans can be a real let-down. Sooo, thanks to my wonderful, amazing, darling girls, we re-arranged it for Sunday instead!

Yes, we had none of the whole chicken on foccacia jazz that was planned, and really, all that we got were kinda junk food. But in between stuffing our face with kettle chips, trading latest on-goings and hiding under umbrellas (them, not me), we had a whale of a time.

No elaborate planning needed, just great company and great weather.

That's how Sundays are meant to be.

Insanity.

The rate at which the weeks have been flying by really freaks me out. Every week, I feel like I'm split into a million, billion pieces dealing with ongoing/pending issues and only on Fridays do I gain some semblance of sanity. But I guess that's probably how everyone feels at work and we all have our own ways to get it out of our system.

The God of Alchies wasn't on my side last night, and some other method was definitely much needed for me to keep that semblance of sanity for the weekend. So, when I saw the fresh ripen mangoes at the Wet Market this morning, I decided that I was going to bake a Mango Tart.

I realised, a little too late (and after I've made my Pate Sucree) that we had no rice at home. Uncooked rice (in case you think I've gone mad), is the poor man's alternative to the posher baking beans that are available in any baking specialty stores. They help in the process of blind baking to keep the tart shell looking the way they should. But of course, there is always a poorer man's alternative out there and I had to resort to repeated docking of the pastry whilst the tart was baking in the oven to prevent air bubbles. Crisis resolved!

Thank goodness my creme patisserie came out looking the way it should, providing my mangos with a nice blanket of creamy goodness.

With insantity kept at bay for the weekend, maybe, just maybe, next week could be a better one.

Come picnic with me (:

You know how sometimes, just sometimes, getting takeaways just doesn't cut it? On those days, the dad, sis and I will drive down to our friendly neighbourhood butchers' to get ourselves a ready roasted chicken. Throw some campbell soup into the pot (mushroom only please), mash up some potato and voila. Easy peasy, no?

But when you start doing this on a weekly basis, things can start to get a little boring. So instead of just attacking the chicken fingers and all, I decided that I wanted my chicken on foccacia AND on a blanket of gouda. And that's what I did! Of course, sans all the lettuce and tomatoes and everything the mom tried to convince me necessary.

The only thing that was missing was a picnic mat, but of course the parents would hear nothing of that sort (only because our garden is really just a patch of grass and of course with the crazy heat we've been experiencing, the mom just goes into a well-rehearsed the-sun-is-terrible mode).

SOooo, I've managed to psych my darling bestfriends into a picnic in a fortnight! Can't wait!

London- the ex lover.

So after months of hard work, non existent weekends and pure exhaustion, alcohol was definitely in order last night. Sure it's temporary relief, but I'll say any relief is better than none.

Our little party of four started talking about the crazy days in London and soon realised that we were sitting on two different sides of the fence. You see, we started personifying London as the lover- the dashing dark and handsome stranger that you'd wish to have flings with over and over again. And of course, Singapore was the dependable archetypal Mr.Right that girls tend to marry and end up with even if the constant yearning for the darker side remains. Because dependable and safe (and boring) is always good, no?

Well, that's how the other girls saw it. But K and I stood on the opposite side of the fence. Sure, London was the lover that taught us so many things, allowed us to breathe freedom, lured us to see the world proper with our own eyes. London was sexy and seductive, but London wasn't exactly the ideal perfect lover. In fact, London was pretty nasty and cold to us at times, and many a time we'd wonder why the hell were we there.

Sure, Singapore's dependable and safe and undeniably my Mr Right. But whoever said being in the comfort zone isn't a good thing (or boring?!)? We've gone out and explored options. We've had dalliances and decided that it wasn't for us. And I've decided that being able to have my favourite Roasted Pork Noodles in the morning with loved ones is something that I cannot do without.

Besides, I live with the faith that my new lover will throw me fantastic surprises when I least expect it.