Comfort notes

OFTEN HERE in Singapore, I don’t need to move away from my desk to survive a hectic workday.  I can successfully keep the insatiable, unceasing hunger pangs at bay with munchies I pop in my mouth from time to time.  You probably think that I could very well have made a pantry of one of the three drawers on my MPD (mobile personal drawer).  To a certain extent, I did.  But I actually survive more through the “love and care for me that is in other people.”

One morning, I found this paper rose on my desk. I still don’t know who made it for me. Ok, cue the song… “Paper roses / paper roses / …” HAHA!

If only my cubicle walls could talk, I would be regaled with anecdotes of food and notes left on my desk by some of the most generous and it has to be said – lovable – people I’ve ever come across here.  The surprises would come in the morning, perfect for starting one’s day, and any other time in between.  Regardless, they’re perfect for adding a spring – no, make that chutzpah – to one’s step in yet another long day in the office.

The food may have long disappeared – believe me, they’ve had (haha!) – but I have the accompanying notes to go back to and read.  They’re like a warm blanket I can pull up to my chin when the cool breeze blows through my windows at night.

And even in the perennial tropic that is the Singaporean warm weather, there really are times when the cool wind blows.

I receive a lot of these from my Malaysian friends. But this one, its Chinese name translated to “Black Sugar Biscuit” has got to be one of the ultimate best!

 

I asked someone to translate for me what these lovely delicious balls of gooey goodness are called. “Black Sugar Biscuits,” he said.

 

Malaysian treats don’t have to exclusively come from Malaysians. I have a Singaporean friend who always remembers me too!

 

These biscuits had a (purple) yam filling. Quite scrumptious too! I liked it.

 

These treats are paper-thin wafers or crepes called “Love Letters,” made by hand by a colleague’s aunt. Each bears a very intricate pattern. They are so delicious.

 

These two boxes came all the way from Shanghai in China, from a beloved colleague I respectfully call “Ms. Lynda.”

 

One box contained these sesame seed finger biscuits that had the feel and taste of biscotti. Perfect with tea or coffee.

 

More cookies in the other box.

 

This is one amazing sandwich made by Betchie (or by her “Staff”). To this slice I sing, “Sana maulit muli…” Hahaha!

 

A variety of teas from Rhonee

 

My current “half-and-half” fixation, introduced to me by Cecille – Cadbury Brunch Bars! Every bar is half guilt, half “good-for-you” goodness.

 

Two muffins from Ms. Sharon

 

Chocolates galore! Godiva, no less. And there are so many others. Like that pack on the left. I’m not crazy about chocolates. But it’s nice to be thought of from time to time.

 

Two of the most heartwarming notes I’ve ever received came from my Bez’s (Glenda) two daughters, Kyla and Keisha!

 

The letter from Keisha opens up, literally, and actually has a story to it.

 

This one is from Kyla.

 

A collage of more recent notes that have been taking up real estate on my wall.

 

This came posted on a couple of morning treats from Ms. Madeline.

 

It’s soya!

 

Saw this on my notebook at the end of a workday.

 

Thanks again, Ms. Madeline!

 

Blast from the past – Some really memorable notes.

 

A lovely note from Trisha. Beside it is a card from Melissa and Sam.

 

Only a true kolehiyala has monogrammed stationery. Hahaha!

 

From Dearest Daphne Tatiana!

 

Of course there is a note from Batman!

 

A farewell note from my Chinese best friend, Bin!

Copyright © 2013 by eNTeNG  c”,)™©’s  MunchTime™©.  All rights reserved

My spaghetti alla carbonara

THE WONDER of home cooking lies in its simplicity.  You fling open the refrigerator or cupboard door and just take it from there.

My spaghetti alla carbonara! Rich and creamy and yet, no heavy cream!

I feel that the cuisine that renders itself best interpreted at home is Italian.  Their food focuses on the simplest of ingredients, the easiest of preparation, but all leading to maximum effect.  A plate of pasta always seems so special.  And perfect for quieting down after–midnight hunger pangs.

Which is exactly what I’m doing right now as I write this.  I’ve just arrived from another long day at work.  And however tired I may be, I reckon that the 10 minutes total time I need to make my pasta–fixation–of–the-moment will be time well spent.

Having been cooking for close to three decades now, I know that by the time the pasta is al dente, I shall be reaping the rewards of my solitary dinner awash with the feeling of an incredibly indulgent spoiled child.

As they say, when in Rome, do as the Romans do.  Spaghetti alla carbonara is a Roman invention.  So I find it quite respectful to cook it as the Romans do – which means totally devoid of the heavy cream that the Filipino version swims in.  Traditionally, spaghetti alla carbonara is made with olive oil, guanciale or pancetta, fresh whole eggs, equal parts of Pecorino Romano and Parmigiano–Reggiano cheeses, and lots of freshly cracked black pepper.

Dried spaghetti usually takes 12 minutes to cook.  Since I always cook my pasta one to two minutes less than what the package tells me, I decide on 10 minutes.

This is how I make one portion.  As applicable, I indicate the brands I actually use or prefer.    Feel free to use yours.  Some are clearly substitutions (I don’t have guanciale or pancetta right now!).

Refrigerator and store cupboard essentials to a most satisfying spaghetti carbonara!

 

One whole egg when I’m less hungry. Two when I really am. Of course, two means I’m making enough for two portions, but to be consumed by only me. Haha! It is important to use UV-sterilized eggs. And oh yes, bring it to room temperature first.

 

Regardless of whether I’m doing one or two portions, I use three to five rashers of Danish streaky bacon every single time.

 

On this one time, I used exactly only three rashers.

 

I’ve always loved De Cecco dried pasta which I believe is simply the best. But I’m pleasantly surprised to be enjoying Arrighi lately!

 

 

I know that salt is salt is salt. But there’s something about MORTON® coarse Kosher salt that just makes any dish more delicious.

 

MILLEL® remains to be my favorite parmesan cheese. I’d buy it in wedges which I’d snack on without ceasing. But whenever there’s no MILLEL®, there’s always Kraft® or Perfect Italiano™. Its flavor is bold but not quite strong.

 

In my recipe I say “dice” the guanciale, pancetta or streaky bacon. But you can just simply slice it any which way you want.

 

A serving portion for one needs about a quarter of a pound of dried pasta. That’s a quarter of a pack or box. To clarify, this again is a portion for one – make that, “one eNTeNG.” Two less hungry people can share this amount.

Bring water to a boil in a pot that is deeper rather than wider.  Add about a tablespoon of Morton® coarse Kosher salt (this is not the time to make your pasta water as salty as the Mediterranean!) and cook about a quarter pound of De Cecco®, Arrighi® or San Remo® spaghetti.  (I set my timer at five minutes so I can check the pasta halfway through.)

To a heavy bottom skillet on medium flame, add a kiss of Bertolli® Classico olive oil (“mild taste”) and three to five strips of SuperFresh® Danish streaky bacon that have been diced.  While the fat renders out, crack one large whole egg into a bowl and beat it until frothy.  In a separate bowl or on to a huge wooden cutting board, grate half a cup each of Pecorino Romano and Parmigiano–Reggiano cheese.  Or, just cheat by using Kraft® 100% real grated parmesan cheese – nothing wrong with that.  Add the cheese (or cheeses) to the beaten egg and freshly crack lots of McCormick® black pepper into the mixture.  Stir to combine.

Drain the pasta when it is done, but set aside about a quarter of a cup of the pasta water.  Add the pasta to the egg and cheese mixture and quickly toss it well.  You’re essentially cooking the egg with the heat of the pasta.  To further emulsify the sauce, add the pasta water gradually – you don’t need to add all of it in.  Now, add the crisped streaky bacon, a splash of the rendered out fat (already mixed with that “kiss” of the olive oil), and toss all together.  Taste for seasoning.  As needed, you may add a little more cheese and black pepper.

Enjoy!  Didn’t I tell you that this can make you feel rewarded, spoiled, and incredibly indulgent?  Heaven.  I’m in heaven.

The ease of making pasta lies in the fact that the sauce will almost always be ready by the time the pasta is done. That is, “al dente”. For my spaghetti alla carbonara, I start rendering the bacon (fat) after I have plunged the dried pasta in the boiling water. From this point, total cooking time should be 10 minutes almost exactly!

 

Get ‘em sizzling. To a heavy bottom skillet on medium flame, add a kiss of Bertolli® Classico olive oil (“mild taste”) and three to five strips of SuperFresh® Danish streaky bacon that have been diced.

 

Get it crackin’! While the fat renders out from the streaky bacon, crack one large whole egg into a bowl and beat it until frothy. To this, you add the cheese or cheeses. No hard rule as to how much, besides “as much as you want of equal parts Pecorino Romano and Parmigiano–Reggiano.” My recipes will never hold you under s tyranny.

 

See, sometimes I don’t even follow my own recipe. On nights when I would feel as over incredibly indulgent as lazy, I wouldn’t even mind beating the eggs until frothy before I dump the cheese and freshly cracked black pepper in. Clearly it works just fine. Just don’t start by whisking vigorously or you’ll end up with cheese all over your face.

 

This is the golden sunshine of a sauce, waiting to be hit by the heat of the pasta. This is quite “savory” – the cheeses are nutty, the egg creamy, and the freshly cracked black pepper oozing with boskiness. Yum.

 

Getting there. The pasta and the bacon are done. At this point, all you need to prepare for is to.. toss, toss, toss… and toss well! Make sure you did set aside a little of the pasta water! The starch that the dried pasta gave off to the water will help further emulsify the sauce. My mouth is watering just thinking about it!

 

I do beg you to please try to follow my recipe. BUT, nothing is keeping you from tipping the pasta over to the pot where the bacon rendered its fat. Again, one of those lazy nights. Haha! The only drawback of doing this is that the strands of spaghetti will be coated with the oil and fat, and to a certain extent, will make it a bit difficult for the (egg) sauce to cling to the pasta. But the result is delicious just the same.

 

In keeping with the lazy mood I was in on the night I took this, I poured the sauce on to the already-mixed spaghetti and bacon. Then, I tossed like crazy.

 

I tumbled the tossed pasta back into the bowl where I mixed the sauce. I have to say, this was such a delicious, scrumptious bowl I brought back to the bedroom with me.

 

This was the last one I made. Just last night. Make that way past midnight! This bowl was the result of all the steps outlined in my recipe.

 

I must’ve slurped my way through the spaghetti. Hahaha! It was so good.

 

Spaghetti alla carbonara loosely translates to “coal miner’s spaghetti”. Like the other pasta I’m quite fond of, spaghetti alla carbonara has an interesting story. Legend has it, Italian men who work in the mines would whip this dish up quickly for lunch time. The generous sprinkling of black pepper reminds them of the coals. Hence the name. Hahaha!

Copyright © 2013 by eNTeNG  c”,)™©’s  MunchTime™©.  All rights reserved

For the love of tomato

With tomatoes, garlic and basil, I’m always halfway to a satisfying pasta.

THE TOMATOES are not San Marzano, the kind ripened by the kisses of the Neapolitan sun.  They’re not even the more accessible Roma.  They’re from Malaysia by way of Cold Storage.

Except for Bertolli that originates from Lombardy, none of my store cupboard essentials for my fail–safe pasta boasts of direct Italian provenance.  The garlic is from China and is packed clustered in bulbs of a few cloves each, ready to be thrown in to bak kut teh (pork ribs soup).  The cayenne pepper is a Kiwi.  The basil leaves – bunches of heady perfume – come proudly from Malaysia too.  While suspiciously named after a Catholic saint, the angel hair pasta hails from Down Under.  The grated parmesan cheese, as if snow falling on cedars, trickle down on to the pasta all the way from the States.

The coarse salt I use to make the pasta water as salty as the Mediterranean and the sauce tasty and balanced is Kosher, from Chicago, and is endorsed by one of my favorite chefs, Rocco DiSpirito.  Oh, there’s at least one more Italian connection after all.

I’ve been fixing myself a huge bowl of my angel hair pomodoro for about five nights in a row now.  And I don’t see the craving letting up any time soon.  I’ve been in dire need of comfort that only it can provide.

The byproduct – the study in globalization that makes it to my heavy bottom skillet just before I toss the finished dish on to my shallow bowl – never ceases to amuse me with its apparent depth.

In the middle of the night, I would suddenly have the urge to make this pasta. Whenever I’ve run out of supplies, I can just walk to the nearest Cold Storage. If it would be past 10:00 PM, I’d go to Fair Price Xtra.

 

It’s quite important to wash your fresh produce well. As you can see, I just throw everything in my trusty IKEA strainer and wash away. I rub the skins of the tomatoes pretty vigorously while singing. Hahaha.

 

The thing about making pasta is that with experience, you shall never be under the tyranny of the recipe. On a whim, I count three or four tomatoes to go to the making of my sauce. No hard and fast rules.

 

I’ve espoused blanching the tomatoes first, then peeling off the skin and de-seeding them before they are used. But sometimes, a rough dice, with skins and all, doesn’t hurt.

 

For this meal in minutes, a rough dice would do just fine. The flavor of Malaysian tomatoes does not come close to San Marzano or even Roma, but what it lacks in that department (“flavor” in the context of Italian sauce) it more than makes up for with it meaty flesh.

 

Making this five nights in a row would surely put a dent on my extra virgin olive oil stash. Here I am, finishing yet again another 500-mL bottle. Fortunately for me though, when Kuya Michele left Singapore at the end of his months-long assignment, he handed down to me ALL his remaining grocery items. There were bottles upon bottles of this golden green culinary jewel of an oil.

 

The sauce starts with extra virgin olive oil, garlic and cayenne pepper every single time.

 

Making this is always a two-burner affair. You make the sauce as you boil the pasta away – always 30 seconds less than what the box or package tells you. It’s because I always tip the cook pasta over into the sauce. And they always finish about the same time.

 

Nothing splatters likes tomatoes. You shall know this once the roughly diced fruit hits the hot oil.

 

The moment the angel hair is done – in all of one and a half minutes only – I tear the basil leaves on the bubbling sauce. I tumble the pasta on to this and I’m ready to eat.

 

What I take to my mouth with every bite is a shameless amount. Haha! No wonder that a pound ogf dry pasta lasts me only three servings.

 

On some nights, I’m so hungry that I see the extra step of plating to be such unbearable delay. So I eat straight from the pan. Anyway, I never would share this. Hahaha!

Copyright © 2013 by eNTeNG  c”,)™©’s  MunchTime™©.  All rights reserved

Plain and less

I’VE SUDDENLY become virtuous in satiating my cravings.  While I’ve run back to the familiar loving embrace of former flames – bagel and cream cheese – I’ve become exacting with their provenance.  Bagel should be plain and from NYC Bagel Factory.  Cream cheese?  The ubiquitous Philadelphia, conspicuously unavailable now in my favorite “whipped” variant but equally satisfying as “spreadable.”  And yes, the one with 80% less fat.

Plain and Less. But amazingly satisfying.

 

80% less fat (than butter or margarine). This thought comes in handy as I shove down my throat all the Danish streaky bacon I could handle. Hahaha!

 

Copyright © 2013 by eNTeNG  c”,)™©’s  MunchTime™©.  All rights reserved

An American breakfast in the Lion City

Good morning, Singapore!

I WOKE up to an overcast Sunday sky morning.  When clouds hover overhead this way, I long to be gastronomically comforted.  When this mood hits me, I prefer to have the flavors of the familiar for breakfast.  Being deeply committed to a romance with places I call home, I decided on old-fashioned freshly baked bagel with a good schmear of cream cheese.

For a year and a half in Folsom, California, this was exactly my breakfast.  Clearly, my choice of the first meal of the day today is in honor of the States, which in the past few days has shown the world stories of courage, heroism, and hope.

Here in Singapore, I get my bagel and cream cheese fix from The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf.  I would ask that the bagel be cut across, then thrown to the toaster to just brown ever so lightly.  Onto the fluffy, chewy center, I smear a generous amount of cream cheese, the more it slides down to the sides, the better.  While most approach it like they would a sandwich, I actually deal with each slice separately.  Unless I find myself within the walls of my office cubicle, I see no need to rush the pleasure.

Breakfast is served! Old-fashioned sesame seed bagel and cream cheese, with hot chocolate topped with marshmallows.

 

This is a surprisingly affordable plate! The bagel costs only S$ 3.50 and the cream cheese, S$ 0.80. The butter and the jam are complimentary!

 

The perfect bagel has a shiny crusty exterior and dense chewy interior. I asked for it to be cut across then lightly toasted. Just how I would do it at the office cafereria in Folsom for a year and a half!

 

I’m always all the more so excited the moment I peel off the top of the cream cheese mini-tub.

 

I reckon that this small-ish tub is always never enough. Hahaha!

 

Nothing like hot chocolate with marshmallows on a cold morning.

I take a bite through the crusty outside all the way to the dense, doughy interior, unperturbed by the cream cheese moustache that would form with each bite.  I lick this tasty smear around my lips, take a sip of my hot chocolate topped with marshmallows, look outside the window and see that the sun is slowly breaking free from the clouds.

Indeed, there is still more good in this world.

I just love this photo of the Merlion from my archives. I took it during one of the many breakfasts I’ve had here.

 

The Singapore skyline in the early morning.

Copyright © 2013 by eNTeNG  c”,)™©’s  MunchTime™©.  All rights reserved

Jo to the world

Ms. Jo and her “dearest eNTeNG,” meeting up in Singapore for the very first time ever. I love how she has always referred to me that way.

MANY PERSONALITIES make me up.  So it is always a monumental task for someone to get me “get me”.  When I find people who do, I try not to lose them.

Where I used to work, I have never been made to feel really understood or really important any better than by Ms. Jo Damian.  She used to be the Senior Executive Assistant to a number of our company’s General Managers (think, Country Managers) before taking on the role of Senior Human Resources Business Partner.  At some point, she was – for all intents and purposes – our HR Manager.  She was a major force behind getting us all here in the Lion City, although nothing was in store for her for doing so.  I guess she got something better – unspoken appreciation, lifelong gratitude, and much love.  She is guaranteed of those, at least from me.

I worked with her on the biggest and highest level programs, and together, we handled most of the Site’s communications.  Our collaborative efforts culminated with the coffee table book “Faces of Memory,” to commemorate all the men and women who were part of our former company.  Call it vain, pointless conceit but that book is on my all–time Top 10 List.  Hahaha!

Our official photo as the Editorial Team of the coffee table book “Faces of Memory”. With Ms. Jo and me are Jack (left) and Alfie (right).

 

This was actually my favorite of all the photos. Haha! I love to have been immortalized in this reclining position. Notice the two wristwatches I have on? I do love stacking them.

 

I’ve always felt that Ms. Jo treats me like her own son. Although she’s more like my big sister.

 

Ms. Jo wrote me a note on this page of my copy of “Faces of Memory”.

 

What Filipino photo shoot is complete without the requisite wacky shot?! Hahaha!

Ms. Jo was here for a couple of days last week.  And while I missed the dinner in her honor, I was at least able to take her to the airport and see her off.  I put more weight to the latter, knowing all too well that that is one gesture I do only for the truly deserving.

Thanks, Ms. Jo.  And I shall see you again!

We didn’t play with ramen. But we did have it for lunch. Alvin and I with Ms. Jo at Ajisen Ramen on the day of her flight back to Manila.

 

Welcome back to Changi Airport Terminal 2!

 

Ms. Jo took a Singapore Airlines flight back. I don’t know a better way to fly.

 

Just two small pieces of luggage – a check-in in her favorite shade of purple and a carry-on (which is actually her laptop). The red bag contained lots of her favorite Bee Cheng Hiang beef jerky. The lambskin leather bag is actually my Longchamp Parisi, just joining in for the group shot.

 

Ms. Jo knows me like the back of her hand. So when she had made it to the end of the line to the check-in, she knew that I would be grabbing that opportunity to snap shots away. She turned around on this one just in time to catch me striking a pose. Hahaha!

 

This is the proper one.

 

Alvin and Ms. Jo.

 

Then it was my turn.

 

Ms. Jo, in head-to-toe Marks & Spencer, against the backdrop of Changi Airport Terminal 2.

 

Spectacles – Ray-Ban Classic Wayfarers in white. T-shirt – “Last Night The DJ Saved My Life” from Malaysia. Bottoms – Adidas running shorts. Wristwatch – Philip Stein Signature Large. Bag – Longchamp Parisi in lambskin leather trimmed with cowhide and/or goat skin. Shoes – TOMS in red corduroy.

 

“Goodbye… it’s time for me to go…”

 

Just one more for the road

 

My reflection on the stainless steel frame of the departure area gate. We waited until Ms. Jo had cleared immigration.

 

One more time for a selfie!

 

Take away some FRESHNESS – a slice of New York Cheesecake and a venti Caramel Frappuccino.

 

eNTeNG, Starbucks Coffee, Changi Airport Terminal 2, Singapore.

Copyright © 2013 by eNTeNG  c”,)™©’s  MunchTime™©.  All rights reserved

Happiness is two kinds of ice cream in that waffle bowl thing

Salted Caramel’s Earl Grey (left) and Salted Caramel (right), served on a waffle bowl.

WITH EVERY step I took towards our destination, it started to feel like whatever ioata of being a food critic wannabe I had in me was slowly melting away, much like artisanal ice cream sliding down the surface impressions on a waffle (cone) bowl.

I felt unworthy in the presence of someone who has succinct opinions of practically every gastronomic establishment on the stretch of Upper Thomson Road, his words buoyed by the waves of the no-nonsense tone of a stern father.  At one point, he summarized one place in just one word that conjured up a vivid image in my head:  I would be better off chewing on a piece of cardboard than any pricey item on the menu.  He was not complaining about the price, he clearly has strong feelings about “getting what you pay for.”

One establishment that got high praise from Michael was this burger-and-beer place called FAT BOY’S. We shall come back for the tall, stacked burger. All the beer-drinking ill be left to Michael though.

 

See what I mean about the beer?

My good friend Michael is back after a five–month assignment at the home of the growing Lujiazui skyline – a place I last beheld about eight years ago.  We find ourselves on this stroll on Upper Thomson Road as I finally take him up on his offer to introduce me to one of the best artisanal ice cream places in the island city.  I usually walk double time, but somehow, the thought of the anticipated gratification necessitated a little more delay.  The pace just had to be leisurely.  Besides, I was carefully taking down mental notes, crafting a roadmap to conquer this seeming slice of gastronomic heaven.

When we started our walking tour, Michael politely called me out on my start-and-stop stride as I snapped away images on my Blackberry Bold 9780.  Before I could even attempt to rationalize my actions as my knack for really documenting my adventures, he was equally quick to surmise that a blog post was probably already taking form in my head.  I would’ve understood – and honestly waited – if any brewing impatience would take the form of him scratching his head or gnashing his teeth but instead he offered that I use his Samsung Galaxy S3.  “It would take better images.”

Anything in colorful font stops me on my tracks.  So I just had to take an image of this blackboard that enumerated the “Flavours Today” in colorful (handwritten) block capitals.  I finished taking my snaps and asked, “Where to?”

“We’re here.”

I saw the sign and it said, “Salted Caramel.”

Reading through this colorful “Flavours Today” menu board was enough to make anybody’s blood sugar shoot up with happiness. I was breathless in anticipation.

 

“Surprise me” was the theme of this ice cream treat. Michael took care of all the ordering.

The place was packed, its off–white interiors offering the illusion of the space appearing larger than it really is.  My generous host of a friend asked me to secure our seats while he took care of ordering an array of scoops he thought to be my best introduction to the place.  The only decision he had to trouble me with was – waffle bowl or waffle cone?  I saw a table against the wall and went for the save – not only was it packed but the queue was long also.

The ice cream makes it to the table!

Soon enough, ice cream so fresh I swear they could’ve only come straight from the udders of cows finally made their landing.  Smarting under the lash of reality check that I wasn’t the smarter foodie at the table, I made a last-ditch effort to salvage whatever self-respect remained.  Essentially by trying to sound smart.  Hahaha!

“People haven’t really been salting their caramel until fairly recently.  So how long has Salted Caramel been here?”

Michael, who lives nearby, estimated the ice cream house’s emergence to a couple of years back.  He went on to introduce to me the four scoops he ordered for us to share.

Michael’s favorites Stout & Chocolate and Rum & Raisin

“You don’t drink.  But I hope that you’re not allergic to alcohol.  Here we have Stout & Chocolate, and Rum & Raisin.  This bowl has Earl Grey, like the tea, and the house signature, the namesake Salted Caramel.  I like the Stout & Chocolate.  It is usually stronger than this.  I think that (another shop’s name) was the first to infuse alcohol into ice cream.  But it was Salted Caramel that perfected it.”

A very Michael thing to do – once only a little of the ice cream is left, he crumbles the waffle bowl into the paper cup in one quick squashing action very similar to abruptly closing a book shut.

And everything indeed was perfect.  I mean, you cannot call something artisanal – a fact proudly brandished by this shop just beneath its name – and expect everything to be technically perfect.  The profundity of Salted Caramel’s ice cream’s scrumptious beauty and flavors lies in the promise of homemade fresh goodness served in classic and spiked interpretations – Vanilla is comfortably juxtaposed with Stout & Chocolate.

When you find these scoops melting into each other in a waffle bowl or cone, you too will melt away.  Ice cream, after all, is the anti-freeze to the soul.

I chose to keep my first ever Salted Caramel ice cream spoon as a memento of the experience. I will surely go back!

 

This Salted Caramel ice cream spoon is set against the backdrop of SHOP Singapore, one of my favorite publication in the island city. I wonder if Upper Thomson Road has ever been featured on its pages.

 

The Salted Caramel paper cup bears a sticker of the logo and colors of the place. Everything is in comforting shades of brown. At this shop, clearly, it takes salt and burnt sugar, one magic moment, to know you’re in heaven.

 

Salted Caramel is housed on a stretch of buildings that bear marks of Singapore colonial architecture.

 

WHO?  Salted Caramel Artisan Ice Cream.  WHAT?  Artisanal ice cream, waffles, a lot of dessert stuff.  WHERE?  246F Upper Thomson Road, Singapore 574370.  www.saltedcaramel.sg.  WHEN?    Sunday–Thursday 12:00 NN–11:00 PM / Eve of Public Holiday, Friday & Saturday 12:00 NN–2:00 AM.  WHY?  The ice cream is top notch.  There’s alcohol in some of them.  The staff is nice.  HOW?  The nearest MRT station is CC16 Marymount (Circle Line).  We walked about 10 minutes.  HOW MUCH?  It was Michael’s treat but I think he spent nowhere more than S$ 5.00 per head.

Copyright © 2013 by eNTeNG  c”,)™©’s  MunchTime™©.  All rights reserved

Ang Mo Kio at The Podium

Bak Kut Teh at Ang Mo Kio at The Podium

THIS ANG Mo Kio is not the 16^th station of the North–South line.  It’s so way out the Red.  Like, New Jersey out.

I always pay my favorite mall, The Podium, a visit whenever I come back home to the Philippines.  Whenever I would have to play the role of the trusty door–to–door delivery man (“Serbisyong parang ikaw na rin ang nag-abot sa kanilang mga kamay!), I would often request to meet up at The Podium.  It’s also the nearest mall to all my Superhero friends.  But it actually doesn’t really matter whether there’s an errand to run or not.  Often, I just go.

The Philip Stein flagship store is there – perfect for ogling at timepieces I couldn’t afford.  And there are plenty of gastronomic choices to quiet down grumbling tummies.  Usuals include Banana Leaf, Café Med, Figaro, Healthy Shabu Shabu, The New Bombay Canteen, and Shi Lin.

I’m adding a new one to that list – Ang Mo Kio (“Singaporean Hawker Cuisine”)!  I first noticed the very shabby chic, beat up solid wood tables and benches in the colors of the Singaporean flag – red and white.  But it was the restaurant’s name that really drew me in.  It was as if the two-year Singapore resident in me suddenly faced head-on the deep-seated homesickness he has been brushing aside for days now, only because the sight of the familiar promised to offer a cure even if it took the incarnation of neon in red and white, buzzing in his head, spelling the name of an MRT Station.

Ang Mo Kio at The Podium

 

The interiors. The tables and benches somehow evoke images of the Malaysian Food Street beside Universal Studios Singapore. The wall has an artist’s rendition of the daily life in the Lion City.

 

I absolutely love the beat-up look of the tables and benches. I swear I could very well be in Singapore, if not for the whiff of airconditioning that cooled the short strands of hair on my nape where I would usually expect the unforgiving equatorial heat of the Singapore sun.

It could’ve been Kembangan and still, he would care.  As long as it was “Singaporean Hawker Cuisine”.

A cordial greeting at the door ushered the Superhero and me in, all the way to the back, by the window where there is a sweeping view of the city skyline and the traffic jam below.  The “wait staff” attending to us went on describing the concept behind the (new) place, the aesthetics, the interiors, the whatnots.  All this time, most of his words just faded in and out of my consciousness into chiaroscuros.  I guess he did notice that all my attention had transfixed onto the wristwatch he had strapped on.  It was an automatic movement TW STEEL, arguably a long lost brother to the TW STEEL I had on, alongside a Philip Stein.  (Me and my stacked wristwatches!)

The black TW STEEL I had on was actually on loan from my brother. Ang Mo Kio’s owner’s automatic movement TW STEEL is the one on the foreground.

 

I love the descriptions on the menu.

Wristwatches became instant conversation pieces and broke further what was left of a clearly crumbling iceberg.  Before long, he properly introduced himself as the owner of the place.  He was inspired to put up the restaurant in the Philippines after having lived a number of years in – you guess it right – the Lion City.  I told him that it was quite admirable and inspirational to meet someone like him who turned an experience into an entrepreneurial endeavor!  Business cards were exchanged.  And from what he handed me, I learned further that he and his family are also in the jewelry business.  One of the specialty jewelry shops in the mall is actually theirs too.  Wow.

The menu was extensive as it is impressive, covering all the bases of the melting pot cuisine that is Singaporean.  For that “true” Singapore taste, we asked for the Bak Kut Teh and the Hainanese Chicken Rice.

The food soon hit the beautifully rustic white table and with one sip of the soup, and a stain of chili on fragrant chicken rice, whatever longing I had for my second home was instantly appeased.

Often, I would end up judging Hainanese Chicken Rice, not so much by the chicken, but by the rice.

 

The steamed (Hainanese) chicken was moist and flavorful.

 

The Hainanese Chicken Rice came with the requisite blanched vegetable in oyster sauce. This was baby bokchoy.

 

The Bak Kut Teh hits the table! I love it for its robust, restorative broth. I think this is closer to the Malaysian version. The broth is darker and more herbal. Not as peppery as, say, Song Fa’s.

 

A tight shot of a fave, the Bak Kut Teh!

Copyright © 2013 by eNTeNG  c”,)™©’s  MunchTime™©.  All rights reserved

A stopover in Hokkaido on the way to the flat

YOU NEVER ever forget your first.

The first time I was out of the Philippines, my destination was Japan.  I went there to speak at a United Nations international conference for students.  I carried with me a speech – the original draft of which I still have – with the most appropriate and beautiful opening paragraph courtesy of my eldest brother.

I was 16 years old at the time.  I still vividly remember walking up to the rostrum, faced the crowd and saw that everybody had their headsets on (for real-time translation) to listen to me.  “Just like in the movies (when heads of state would meet just before a disaster strikes),” I told my surprisingly calm self.  I was confident enough not to bring with me the printout of my speech.  Back then, I had unwavering faith in my memory serving me right.  And for the five days leading to the speech, I had had sufficient practice delivering impromptu talks at all the primary schools, secondary schools and the Ministry of Education office that we visited.

I think I got thunderous applause.  But nothing was louder than the one I got after singing a capella before the program closed.  Mine was the only musical number they allowed in what was a strictly formal event.  It was a last-minute addition too.  The organizers asked me to sing after hearing me do so at one of the schools we had gone to.  I was later approached by an Austrian violinist who wanted to offer me a music scholarship in Europe.

Why am I suddenly waxing nostalgic?  And of Japan of all places?  I blame it on Cold Storage.  I blame it on them for setting up this “Hokkaido” gastronomic festival of sorts at the open area of the mall nearest my flat.

I didn’t go to Hokkaido during that trip to Japan.  I went to Tokyo and Yokohama.  But if what I remember of all the gustatory delights I had in those two cities could at least be a faint figment of what the country’s biggest island offers, then I am all for shopping to my heart’s content.

I scoured all the racks radar-locking at anything that resembled my favorite Japanese cookie, the Fujiya Chocochip Cookie Cocoa Country Ma’am.  Apparently, it doesn’t trace its roots to the island.

But it wasn’t any reason to fret.  I love Japanese curry (Hello, Coco Ichibanya!) and there were a lot of choices on offer – scallop, salmon, clam, and octopus.  I equally heart ramen, so this I got in all its broth variations – shio (salt), shoyu (soy sauce) and my all-time favorite miso (fermented soybean paste).  The closest I got to the chocolate chip cookie of my dreams was a box of sweet choco soft rusk.  And to top everything off – and to best end a day of nostalgia – was a tub of Hokkaido Ice Cream in Premium Vanilla.

This promotion runs until Friday this week.  And I can’t wait to go back tomorrow and stock up.

Scallop Curry

 

Salmon Curry

 

Clam Curry

 

Octopus Curry

 

These are squid stuffed with rice.

 

Sweet Choco Soft Rusk

 

I got sold the instant I saw the tag line: “Only Hokkaido Taste”! This is the shoyu (soy sauce) ramen.

 

Miso Ramen

 

Shio (salt) Ramen and that cute Kid’s Ramen!

 

There was only one freezer for the frozen delights. The tubs of ice cream each sells for S$ 9.30, and comes in chocolate, vanilla and strawberry.

 

They were quite proud of the fact that only “Hokkaido milk” goes into the ice cream.

 

Why settle for vanilla when there is PREMIUM vanilla?! This was the one I got!

Copyright © 2013 by eNTeNG  c”,)™©’s  MunchTime™©.  All rights reserved

Almost home

Best friend Darryl on the phone with his wife, Brenda, right after checking in all his luggage. No excess baggage!

I’M NOTHING if not fiercely loyal to my family and my friends (who are actually quite few).  I find that to be very Filipino, having grown up on Social Studies classes that always associated the words “family” and “closely knit” to no end.

A couple other things that I do find to be very Filipino are – as I have always said on this space – welcoming loved ones at the airport or sending them off.  Trust me, stop by the NAIA (Ninoy Aquino International Airport) at any given time and you will find throngs gathered as if they are there to topple a dictatorship.

I use this as one of two excuses to either pick up or send off friends at the airport.  The other excuse is that Changi International Airport is just so beautiful.  I call it an urban oasis where the tummy can be filled, the senses satiated, and where serious retail therapy can be had.  And I actually only need to hop on the Purple Line and take a couple of short interchanges before I soon find myself within the halls of Terminal 3, imposing with its cavernous, cathedral ceilings that render the place nothing short of hallowed.  I emerge to a Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf shop to my right, ask for their Red Velvet Cake, sit back, and feel that I wouldn’t want to be someplace else.

Yesterday, I was back.  This time, to see best friend Darryl off.

“I see the tower! I see the tower!” “Fast approaching Changi International Airport. Darryl, a stickler for keeping schedules, told me that he had to be at the airport at exactly 4:00 AM.

 

Darryl arrives at Changi International Airport Terminal 1.

 

Long-standing friends eventually develop patience for me. Because as you can see, I will keep on asking them to… pose for second here, here, here. Hahaha!

 

“It should just be here somewhere.” Darryl, though quite sure that every piece of luggage meets the airline standards, still wanted to have a final weigh-in.

 

On the way to the industrial-grade weighing scale by Door No. 5, I saw this Audemars Piguet wall clock. See, we were able to beat our goal!

 

Darryl soon realized that I was actually of no use. Hahaha! Yes, I accompanied him to the airport but I just let him do the heavy lifting all by himself. Haha! Sorry about that. You know me and my camera, we sometimes have a world all our own.

 

Everything was weighing in according to Darryl’s expectations. Good job!

 

Note to self for future reference – that’s how much a 40-inch flatscreen in its original packaging weighs. All of 20.55 kilograms!

 

The stroller for the TV was checked in separately. It’s what airlines call as “irregularly shaped” items (for check-in).

 

Now that the weigh-in is done, It’s time to head off to Row 07 for Darryl’s check-in.

 

We couldn’t walk past this very “old school”-looking information counter and not take a snap. At some point I had to mention to Darryl that Singapore should seriously consider lobbying for Terminal 1 to be made into a UNESCO Heritage Site. The place just feels so historical in all its well-preserved glory. I couldn’t say the same for the NAIA, sadly.

 

“Hold it right there! Say cheese…” (Ok, not really a very popular word right now. Hahaha!)

 

Darryl goes through his papers while he waits for his turn at the counter.

 

It was not a long wait. But of course I still managed to squeeze in a self-portrait session. Hahaha!

 

Row 07 check-in counters are right beside the entrance to the departure area. Time check after clearing check-in? 4:10 AM! Everything’s going on smoothly.

 

Time in one’s hands is a good enough excuse to… eat! Hahaha!

 

I love it when a place speaks my language!

 

We decided on KFC for breakfast! Very important reminder: Outside food is not allowed.

 

My platter of a breakfast! The eggs were nice. I particularly loved the crust on the original recipe chicken (fillet). Quite peppery. Some like it hot!

 

Darryl had Blueberry Pancakes and a side of Scrambled Eggs.

 

Something to slather on to the pancakes

 

Breakfast was on Darryl. Thanks a lot!!!

 

KFC has this sweeping view of the airport check-in area. Notice how this scene is beautifully awash in blue.

 

I really like the orange-and-white color combination on the Jetstar Boarding Pass.

 

For some reason, I find the Jestar logo design to be quite smart, catchy, and with good recall. Speaking of recall, the logo brings to mind a skinny tie I had eons ago. It’s black silk, with – you guess it right – a star subtly embroidered on it. I would wear it to gigs to give me an instant boost of… stardom. Hahaha!

 

At the airport, a traveler checks and checks again his stuff.

 

On the way to the Departure Area, guess what Darryl saw? A tarp for QANTAS, the flag carrier of Australia!

 

We just had to take one last selfie before we hit the road – I mean, before I hit the road and Darryl hit the sky at 30-plus-thousand feet up in the air.

 

Buh-bye!

It was practically his last day in the Lion City, en route to a place where the opera house by the water is considered to be one of the first marvels of modern architecture.  The route he is taking is by way of a week-long break in the Philippines, then an hours-long layover in Singapore to pick up his remaining luggage, before it would be time to scoot to the Great Outback.

There, his wife Brenda – along with their plans for a new life – awaits.

I know it is still a matter of a few more days to the day.  But it is so close that best friend Darryl can already smell the kangaroos.

All the best, Darryl & Brenda.  You know I will miss you!

I love looking at the Flight Information Board at airports!

 

I would’ve wanted to wear a DLSU shirt in honor of the traveler. But I realized that I don’t have one. HAHAHA! I thought a green shirt would do. But then I saw this “UC DAVIS” shirt and just put it on.

 

After seeing best friend Darryl off, it was time to hop on the Skytrain to Terminal 3.

 

Inside the Skytrain, I got transfixed on to this ad. Nice visuals. Hahaha! Oh, the key message bears repeating – you get 7% savings on the GST if you shop at the Changi International Airport.

 

Gotta have another shot of me in my “bagong gising” (just-out-of-bed) look. Conceited much??? Hahaha!

 

I can buy my month’s worth of magazines at Times Travel in one go! I had to come back later because it was still quite early and they don’t open until 7:00 AM.

 

Changi Airport presents “Fascinating Russia” from 16 Mar – 7 Apr 2013!

 

Prepare to be fascinated by Russia!

 

Welcome to Red Square!

 

I saw this part of the “Fascinating Russia” setup framed in my Canon IXUS 860IS and I knew right there and then that I want it printed on a shirt and I’d wear it!

 

I can’t help but feel so tiny whenever I’m inside Changi Airport Terminal 3. And I’ve always loved the ceiling treatment. I’m not sure if those panels serve a specific, important purpose. Better ask my brother!

 

I can get stuck in Terminal 3 and never want for anything. Haha! This board has my name written all over it.

 

I love giving feedback. So when I saw this terminal, I knew I just had to write something for all the amazing people behind Changi Airport. Besides, I had plenty of time to kill while I wait for the shops to open.

 

The keyboard has a very Apple feel to it. Though one of the keys clearly says otherwise.

 

Didn’t take me long to fill out the online form.

 

Of all my TOMS, this one in red corduroy has racked up the most mileage. One of my brothers got this for me as a send-off gift on the day I left for Singapore. On the wya to the airport, we stopped by Alabang Town Center. There, he asked me to try on TOMS (he was the first one to go crazy over these shoes) ans whichever I liked, he said he would get for me. The sales people ended packing up what I had on as I decided to wear this pair on my flight.

 

Accompanying me while I waited for the shops to fling open their doors was my Longchamp Parisi in lambskin leather. It’s not as obvious given that it is in black, but I can tell by the feel of the supple leather that this bag has been developing a lovely patina.

 

Again, given that I had a lot of time in my hands, I decided to go to the Information desk and clarify what time the shops will open. Impatient much?!?! Hahaha!

 

From the Skytrain/Departure Area on Level 2, the Information personnel recommended that I check out the shops on the Arrival floor.

 

I saw this panda at a promotional booth and wanted to buy it. Hahaha! “Jia Jia” is the name.

 

See, there’s recreation at Changi Airport. This one is called The Slide @ T3.

 

I don’t think I’ll survive this slide. I got nauseous just staring at it.

 

Just about anywhere there is a mirror. Hahaha!

 

I took this photo as a shout-out to my Italian big brother Kuya Michele!

 

I really find the elevators at Terminal 3 to be such marvels of architecure, or in a simpler term, construction. This for me is a conversation piece with my youngest brother.

 

Yey! Times Travel had finally opened! I immediately hit the magazine racks that occupy almost two walls.

 

I picked up all the titles you see on this photo. Obviously, I’m a believer of Style, silver linings, and Oz The Great and The Powerful!

 

These wall clocks hang above the men’s magazine section. i looked up and saw them as if they were my shining stars. Hahaha!

 

I saw that the Robb Report’s latest edition features wristwatches so I’ve just got to have it! It was a pleasant last-second addition to my already heavy stash.

 

First the wall clocks. Now these editions of The Lonely Planet. Singapore and Australia side-by-side. What are these, portents of things to come?

 

“Ring up my purchases please!” Notice that the sales associate was kind enough to double up my carrier. It was THAT heavy. It would be a considerable journey by train so I figured that all these reading materials would come in handy. It was still quite early so there should be plenty of seats on the train on the route back.

 

Even this escalator ride to the MRT station just has an air of grandeur and elegance that speaks of a budget that didn’t allow for any corners to be cut.

 

Changi Airport MRT Station

 

The last text. See, only a real best friend can make a reference to a nonexistent lovelife. Hahaha! Notice that Darryl’s number is still recorded on my mobile under his wife’s name (who used to use this number). Darryl would keep on reminding me to update my records. I didn’t get around to doing it. Hahaha!

Copyright © 2013 by eNTeNG  c”,)™©’s  MunchTime™©.  All rights reserved