Saybons, Plaza Singapura

I finally caught the much-hyped-about The Dark Knight after reading about Heath Ledger's golden-naked-man-worthy performance and how the movie smashed box offices around the world despite the recession.

It was a long movie, not exactly draggy, just 'when is the bad guy ever going to die huh?' I haven't caught Batman Begins so the whole Batman-Desperately-Needs-Lozenges voice box was lost on me. Naturally Batman the movie has come a long way since the days of highly-embarrassing Poison Ivy and Mr. Freeze days to olden versions of Michelle Pfeiffer's stunning portrayal of Catwoman and of course, the Original Joker Jack Nicholson.

One thing's for sure though. Christian Bale / Bruce Wayne was hauuute. This is going to make me sound like a 12 year old with a crush on a Backstreet Boy (a piece of history which should henceforth remain buried and forgotten)... but the sight of Christian-Bruce-whoever in a freshly-pressed suit was enough to make me sign some 'Be Mine XOXO' petition.

Cannot. Take. It.

Breathe... Breathe. I mean this is so unfair right? He's human too so why did 99% of the male population miss out on his god-given goodies (did I just type that...)? I'm starting to understand how guys feel after seeing Giselle Bunchen in a Victoria's Secret spread.

Moving onto other hot stuff...Soup.

French techniques.
French tradition.
French cuisine.

Gee it's just soup?

Thank goodness, some people think otherwise!

Diana and I both love soup; back at SMU, Soup Spoon was our regular haunt. I even managed to complete one of those Soupaholic cards!

Once the 12th stamp has been chopped, souperholic will be entitled to a free grande soup of choice.

Yay.

However now I'm stuck at Dhoby Gaut for my internship so Diana and I decided to do lunch at Saybons, Plaza Singapura.



As the poor girl was recovering from her flu, the Vitamin-A-and-C filled Broccoli & Cheddar Soup served her well, and she had Garlic Herb Butter Bread to go with her soup.



I, on the other claw, had the Seafood Bisque. which was paunchy, briny but sweet. I paired my bisque with Sundried Tomato Butter; it was an odd pairing (seafood and sundried tomatoes?) that worked.



Well the selection at Saybons is not as mind-boggling as Soup Spoon's but at least they toasted their pre-buttered bread. Oh yeah, I mean this in the nicest possible manner but doesn't the owner of Saybons look a helluva like Popeye's Olive Oyl?

Oomphaticos, Tanglin Mall

This year's birthday was extremely low-key. Birthdays were usually opportunistic it's-all-about-me days but this year for some reason, I felt like I have a lot to be thankful for, thus I would rather do something for the people around me than indulge in all that fanfare, candles-on-the-cake drama. Am I too late for a mid-year resolution? If not, I would like to be a better daughter, sister and friend- in that order.



Of course a birthday celebration doesn't necessarily call for fireworks and orchestra-accompanied birthday song. Like Sunday brunch with the girls at Oomphaticos, Tanglin Mall for instance.





The quirky cafe took a no-holds-barred approach to its interior decor and attitude- it was "Cross Dressing Sunday" and we were unfortunate enough to see their male waiters decked out in skirts and sarongs. What an unusual occupational hazard huh? Haha. The mammoth menu featured food of Italian, American, Japanese, Thai influence but we went with the sane-r dishes.



The Gorilla's Breakfast was a slice of olive bread topped with sliced herb-grilled portobello mushrooms, arugula salad, sundried tomatoes and fresh mozzarella slices, served with fig jam on the side.



Despite it's name, the dish was very light, which was just as well as our Farmer's Choice sandwich was huge. Packed with egg, bacon, avocados, tomatoes and romaine lettuce, it was quite the exemplary club sandwich. I loved the rustic feel of the breads they used too.



For dessert, we have Toffee Too Much, a mashed up cheesecake with shards of nougatine brittle. I liked it enough i.e. I finished it but I probably wouldn't order it again. Perhaps the dessert would have been sensational if there had been more toffee sauce... yes, a generous drizzle would have been ooo so good. The idea of overdosing on toffee a day after my 23rd birthday suddenly seems like a delectable proposition.

We had order an additional scoop of macadamia ice cream because the Birthday Girl said so... and it's all about me! Crap, I keep forgetting I'm suppose to be more selfless... Sadly like my mid-ear resolution, the ice cream was rather forgettable.



However the birthday gifts more than made up for it! The girls got me "Clotilde's Edible Adventures in Paris" by Clotilde Dusoulier of Chocolate & Zucchini and "Hungry for Paris: The Ultimate Guide to the City's 102 Best Restaurants" by Alexander Lobrano. Truth is I had already "hinted" to the girls what I would like for my birthday as we are close enough to let on birthday wishes. Oddly enough, I'm hesitant to start on the books as they may cause some serious heartache for Paris.



The Edward Monkton card they chose (I love Edward Monkton!) was a darling, as it literally prompted a "you know me so well!" reaction. This is what the card said,

A THOUGHT for GIRLS
Sometimes a person needs SUPPORT, COURAGE, LOVE, HOPE, UNDERSTANDING
and an answer to the Bigger Questions of LIFE.

And sometimes the BIGGEST Question is

"Where can I find a truly unbelievable chocolate fudge brownie?"



As I have said this year, I feel extremely lucky that my life has turned out this way so far.

Naturally on the top of my 'Thank You' list are my parents, who have given so much but ask for so little in return (don't worry I promise to graduate by the end of the this year!)... My sisters, hey it ain't easy living with fellow Alpha types but I'm sure we will figure something out within the next fifty, sixty years... My friends who bring out the best in me over our countless brunch and tea sessions, over French pastries, ice-cream-topped desserts and freshly-baked bread; and more importantly, stuck by me in hard times (and I'm not just referring to bad restaurant service).



Thank you!

Spitalfields, London

One of my oldest friends, Aizhen and I arranged to met up in London and we decided to head down to somewhere both of us hardly knew about- Spitalfields Market. I had never been there and she only once, despite being based in London for the last couple of years.

Entering Spitalfields, one would have a glimspe of what commercialism would do to the place as chic boutiques and eateries lined its sideways and cornestones. However, moving past those, the trader markts offers a more interesting experience.

Away from Barcode Land, Spitalfields Traders Market is the place to visit. The market opens 5 days a week but Sunday's market is the biggest. I thought the traders market was extremely interesting as it boasted a collective collage of ethnic minorities. Sidenote: after visiting London, I don’t think neither Singapore nor Malaysia holds the bragging rights to call themselves multi-racial, Truly Asia, Uniquely whatever.



Spitalfields Traders Market is slightly edgier than Borough Market- the latter, in my opinion, has been marketed and packaged to look “rustic”, although I still love it!. At Spitalfields, we saw a health inspector checking the hygiene of the food stalls and somehow the threat of getting food poisoning allayed fears of visiting a tourist trap.





Food-wise, they do have fine food produce ala Borough Market (think cured hamds and olive oils) but you also get other ethnicities represented such as Japanese (cute dons), Thai and Indian, and grub from less hyped-up cultures such Ethiopian and Caribbean.



Apart from food, Spitalfields Market sell plenty of knickknacks like handmade accessories, vintage scarfves and outfits, random objects that serve no purpose other than dust-collecting.

I say: Spend your Saturdays at Borough Market and Sundays at Spitalfields Market.

Apparently, this is “what Covent Garden was like before it became a tourist trap”. If you feel the impulse to wave your light sticks and pull a rendition of Tina Turner’s "We Don't Need Another Covent Garden", err don’t! Visit the campaign website instead.

Spitalfields Market
Brushfield Street
Spitalfields
London E1

Borough Market, London

I had my “I died and gone to heaven” moment at Borough Market. One of the largest food markets in the world, it’s crowded but you can find an amazing variety of food and produce such as …

-Takes a deep cyber-breath-



Artisan cheeses, cured hams, beans and pulses, olive oils, green, black and stuffed olives, truffle oil, foie gras, organic fruit, vegetables and wild mushrooms, freshly pressed fruit juices, preserves, oysters , smoked fish, artisan bread, studded with sundried tomatoes and herbs,



chocolate truffles, balaclavas, pastries, cakes, desserts such as banoffee pie, lemon tart, carrot cake, apple strudel, chocolate and vanilla éclair, vanilla pie, chocolate brownies, flourless baked chocolate truffles, raspberry cake, tiramisu, freshly made pasta, raviolis, tortellini, sausages, kebabs, falafels, sweet and savory tarts, quiches etc etc.

I looked up the brownie pyramid and saw 2 significant crumbs at the top of the pyramid

“Are you going to sell that?” I asked.

The guy shook his head and gave me the brownie crumbs. Score!





The market also houses restaurants and food stalls. The first thing we shared was a box of fish and chips. It wasn’t the best fish & chips I’ve had as the chips were a little limp but we were starving. I also spied a salt beef sandwich stall but no one else seemed interested in sharing.


tart

Dad and I shared a spinach and blue cheese tart, which caused my mum and yang to shudder in horror. The tart crumbed easily and luckily the blue cheese wasn’t too strong- either that or my tastebuds has morbidly altered by the random food I’ve been snacking all day.

Then I finally saw something that made my gut grovel.

Grilled cheese sandwich.





In haste, I grabbed a queue ticket (yes, they are that popular and busy) and stood in front of the cheese-melting machine, utterly mesmerized by the bubbling surface.

“I’ll make a special one for you” the raclette guy told my sister and I. Aww, special treatment.

Too bad my life isn’t a fairy tale or made of milk and honey because my sister asked me, “you ordered that?” pointing to the potato-gherkin-cheese mess.



OH NO! I meant to get a grilled cheese sandwich, not that potato-gherkin-cheese mess. In sheer embarrassment, I took a new ticket and hobbled over to the other side where shelves-ful of grilled cheese sandwiches lay waiting to be pressed by the Panini grill. Oh, another queue! The agony of waiting and getting my grilled cheese sandwich after like, three people!?

When it was finally handed to me, I held in my hands like a newborn baby.




Just imagine melted Cheddar cheese, onions and leeks, nuzzled between buttered sourdoughs. It was greasy, messy and crazily delicious. Seriously if its deliciousness were measured in dollars, people would be fighting over to include this in their pre-nup. This was all 'you had me at hello,' 'you complete me' and all the cheesy movie love lines.

Jack, I’m flying.

CRASH.

No more grilled cheese sandwiches for you, woman.



Borough High Street
Stoney Street and Winchester Walk
London, SE1 1TL
Opening hours
Thursdays: 11am - 5pm
Fridays: 12pm - 6pm
Saturdays: 9am - 4pm

Sienna Cafe, Selfridges, London

About an hour’s worth of shopping for ties, Aunt Jo and I were in need of some refreshments. We literally bumped into Sienna Café, a tiny café “nestled at the base of the escalators in the Central Atrium”. Ha, this is hilarious. The Selfridges website described the café as the place “to see and be seen”? Yeah sure if people can be bothered to crane their necks downwards while they ride the escalators.





We had a chocolate cake, well let’s just call it “Chocolate Fudge Cake” because looking at it, it could pass of as one. Haha and it also saves me the trouble of describing something forgettable. Hey it’s chocolate fudge cake i.e. if you have been reading food blogs long enough, you would know how one tastes even without actually eating one.





The Citrus Pound Cake was a buttery loaf, infused with a deep but pleasant scent of clementine.

By the way, if you think the table looks a little arty-farty, it’s because the café has been given the “surreal treatment, courtesy of culinary threesome extraordinaire Les Trois Garçons”, which “after reinvention by this highly creative team, Sienna Café will look, feel and taste different – selling Surrealism inspired cakes and nibbles.”



So said the PR team.

Well, there’s nothing surreal about Sienna’s scones. It was bang-on, almost teeth-cracking hard. I toasted the other one in the microwave the next day and it redeemed itself somewhat; but otherwise, I think this should probably be classified as a dangerous object because with a careful aim, you could hurt somebody.

Sienna Cafe
Selfridges
Lower Gound Floor

Selfridges, London

There aren’t that many must-return eateries in London because you can get just about anything from the rest of the world. For instance, I didn’t even return Four Seasons for their roasted duck rice because I’m sure if I look hard enough I can find kickass roasted duck rice in Singapore- although I must say, I’m never “in the mood” for duck rice in Singapore. That being said, the salt beef sandwich at Selfridges has been post-it-ed, bookmarked as a “yes go” in my to-do list.

The place is a lot roomier than before and the sitting area is considerably more comfortable. Somehow back then when I had to balance my bag on my lap and my butt on the high stool, while making sure my shopping bags was still around, the kookily perilous experience had seemed more memorable.

Yet with more comfortable seats, there was less reason to rush through the meal. At The Brass Rail, they serve both regular salt beef and tongue. I exercised the ‘how often do you often tongue’ logic and settled for a regular tongue sandwich with rosemary bread, instead of the regular rye.


a half sandwich

The sandwich had an optional dash of mustard within, which I highly recommend because it takes the salt beef from ‘downright salty’ to ‘downright salty with a twang’… and we are all about multitude of flavors right?

When we sat down to eat, I realized everyone around me (including 6 feet tall men) had the half portions. Very embarrassing. Hey then again, I need a proper regular sandwich for the memories to last me months, if not years!



It was fantastic. Chewing through the heartachingly-soft tongue slabs, I could almost imagine myself bouncing on tongue mattresses in slow motion as Oompa-Loompas sang hymms around me. Don’t ask me why but salt beef tongue does to me what magic mushrooms does with most people.

Mmm. Kids, stay away from drugs.

Brass Rail - Salt Beef Bar
Selfridges Foodhall
Ground Floor

Laduree, London

I had trouble deciding on a place to meet up with Edward* and discovering Laduree at Harrods was my ‘Rumpleskiltskin’ moment.

* Edward- Remember him from Boston? Lucky guy was doing a summer program in London.



It was a tea room fit for the famed pastry couturier. The first thought that came to my mind was, 'whoa, have I stepped onto the set of Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette?' Googling the patisserie, I found out Ladurée was actually selected as exclusive pastry consultant for the film.



Playing to our cravings, Edward was supposed to choose the macarons, while I picked the pastries.

Edward (to waitress), "For the macarons, we'll have one liquorice... one pistachio..”

I panicked at the first two flavours he picked. I can't think of a more vile-tasting candy than liquorice; the first time I tried it, not only did I spit it out immediately, my fingers were itching to scrap off the taste from my tongue and esophagus (if I could only reach it). My feelings towards pistachios are less hostile; although I do feel pretty strongly that the pistachio is better off eaten as a nut.

I shot up from the menu and gave him my best 'eh dude' look, eyes enlarged, nostrils flared.

He got the hint immediately. Ahh, bless friends who recognize and embrace the control freak in you.



Eventually We-He settled on the Vanilla, Coffee, Salted Butter Caramel, Raspberry, Orange blossom and sigh, Liquorice.

I’m neither a fan nor expert on macaroons so my brain doesn’t register the taste of the macaroons other than the fact that it is sweet and crumbly. Macarons are so wasted on me. But judging by the number of ‘died and gone to haven’ blog entries of Laduree-aficionados, it’s an experience not to be missed if you a macaron-lover.

I picked the Praline Millefeuille, a caramelized puff pastry, sandwiched between praline cream and a crispy praline of almonds and hazelnuts. My heart literally skips 2 beats when I spy something with layers.



It was lovely. The delicateness of puff pastry and crispy praline resembled organza wings caught between and stuck onto the luscious praline cream.

I felt bad for vetoing Edward’s macaroon choices so I let him choose the other pastry.

Perhaps to make up for his pistachio-nonappearance, he chose the biggest and fanciest macaroon they had- the Ispahan.



Is this revenge? Nah, Edward just loves berries.

Lo and behold, this pastry/macaron comes with its own entourage and dry ice effect. I’m kidding. I’m pretty sure most of you don’t need any introduction to this rose-lychee-raspberry concoction.



We accompanied our pastries with tea because I just realized coffee kills the taste of whatever I’m having. I had thé Mélange Spécial Ladurée, a blend of citrus fruit, rose, vanilla and cinnamon tea while Edward had something “normal”- I don’t remember, probably Earl Grey.



It was the most expensive tea I’ve ever had in my entire life. I could auction off my Laduree experience at Sotheby’s or Christie’s, ok fine maybe eBay. Of course you can find credit-crisis-friendly versions of Laduree pastries elsewhere; however one must understand those cheaper morsels were spun of the les originals in the first place. In other words: be prepared to pay for heritage.

Ladurée at Harrods
87/135 Brompton Road
London SW1X 7XL

Harrods Rotisserie, London

On my first day back in London from Copenhagen, aunt Jo and I met up for her-brunch-my-lunch and she took me to Harrods Rotisserie.

“It’s very good” she gleefully remarked. Well it sure looked like it because there were people seated by the counter at around 11.15am, even before the rotisserie was ready to receive orders.
We sat down, in vivid anticipation of service. And we waited. At precisely 11:30pm, a waiter handed us a menu that featured a handful of your usual roast items.



I immediately knew what I wanted because
A. I’m so predictable.
B. I have this mental checklist, which takes me about 12.5 seconds to make a decision.

1. Game Birds e.g. quail, pigeon
2. Tongue in Cheek. Tongue or cheek of some animal
3. Red meat in the following order: duck, beef and lamb
4. Fish in the following order: cod and salmon
5. Chicken
6. Pork



The list remains more or less unchanged unless meat is prepared differently or served with unusual side dishes. By then I would be increasingly indecisive and would take about 10 minutes to make a decision, before getting 2nd and 3rd doubts about my choice.

Since there weren’t any game birds or tongue/cheek stuff, I had the duck and Aunt Jo went for the chicken.



For an additional charge, the rotisserie offers side dishes such as oriental rice, roast potatoes, mashed potatoes but we ordered the corn on cob and green salad.

Before our mains and side dishes came, we ere given a basket of sliced bread coins that was unceremoniously plain. This was most un-Harrods- I thought everything at Harrods was meant to be OTT?

Like the duck, which was hugeass- almost as unbecoming as the roasted ducks served in Chinese banquets where one duck is usually shared by a table of 10 and I myself finished half in Harrods!

The roasts were marinated in yoghurt, lime juice, garlic and fresh Herbs. In case you thought I had bionic-uber-sensitive tastebuds that picked out the precise ingredients used to make the marinade, well I don’t and that’s what a website is for. Haha



As in the case of some eateries, luckily the complimentary bread basket wasn’t the star of the meal.

Served with gravy and roasted vegetables, the roasts were very good. As you can tell, I’m not one to start hyperventilating over roast dinners. I enjoy a good roast but I’m not about to kiss the ground or do a rain dance for. However if you are one who lives to roast and you have a few extra pounds leftover from VAT claim, Harrods’s rotisserie may just be your port call.



By the time I was done with my half duck and a quarter of Aunt Jo’s chicken, I was phyisically exhausted from all that slicing and tearing. We didn’t have dessert but after visitng their webste, I realize they have a Sticky Date and Toffee Pudding, with fig crème brulée and butterscotch sauce. Someone please Fedex this to me!

Harrods Rotisserie
Ground Floor, Harrods
87-135 Brompton Road
Knightsbridge,London SW1X 7XL

London

What I loved about London
1. The weather- crikey, you sure you went to London? Yes it was breezy and sunny- the perfect Spring weather.
2. Meeting up with Aizhen and Edward
3. Farmers' Markets
4. The Gloucester-South Kensington-Knightsbridge-Chelsea area. I could really pack at and move there like -er- right now.
5. Marks & Spencer Simply Food. Remember my 'Supermarket Fetish' ? I loved Whole Foods too but it's imported LAH!

What I'm uh-huh about
1. Oxford Circus and High Street Kensington. I loved these places as a kid / teen but now the see-one-see-all soon-to-be-IPOed mass appeal labels bore me.
2. Underground tube.
...2.1 I'm sure we have all done the 'Pick Your Nose' test and found the air beneath to be slightly less than clean. Just slightly.
...2.2 On my first MRT ride back from London, I was struck by how wide our MRT carriages were, I could actually do a cartwheel or split jump in an emptish carriage. The only thing stopping me is I can't actually do a cartwheel or split jump. Moving on!
3. Crap Chinese food in Chinatown

Food Mob
1. China China at Chinatown. Nasty- don't do it.
2. Royal China at Bayswater. Expensive Chinese dinner, which was good but I could fall alseep blogging about Chinese food. Sorry.
3. Bugis Street at Gloucester Hotel. Singaporean. Enough Said.
4. Harrods Rotisserie at Harrods*
5. Laduree at Harrods*
6. The Brass Rail at Selfridge's*
7. Seina Cafe at Selfridge's*
8. Borough Market*
9. Spitalfields Market*
* blogging about them

What I wished I had more time for
1. Borough Market
2. Spitalfields Market
3. Camden Town
4. Nottinghill Gate

What I would return for
1. Gastropubs
2. Canteen at Crispin Place, Spitalfields
3. Gold Mine at BayswateR. I don't care for Chinese food but I would have liked to try this just to check out the hype.
4. A picnic at Hyde Park
5. The Anya Hindmarch sale

It was a good trip. It wasn't exactly 'Discovery Channel' because growing up, I visited London many many times. However with my parents, we always went about the same few places... Oxford Circus, High Street Kensignton, Convent Garden... This time round, I checked out Chelsea, Borough Market and Spitalfields, and what a world of difference it made to my experience!




Hyde Park

In my opinion, Copenhagen is the kind of place where feel-good saying ‘there is more to life than money and material goods’ rings loud and clear; however in London, it is simply the case that ‘there’s no life, if there ain’t money’, and the only things ringing harder than the doorbells are the cash registers.

Money can’t buy you happiness? That depends on your definition of happiness.

The summer sale was going on and women were going absolutely crazy at Harrods, Selfridges and Harvey Nichols. Gaw-, I swear some of them are trained in combat.

Me? I didn’t shop that much. I think the one thing I forgot to leave at home was my ‘voice of reason’. Argh, I was ready to bruise my credit card (having applied for my own so that I wouldn’t have to rely on dad’s card) but everytime I thought my heart skipped a beat, my voice of reason intruded.

Do you really really need another tulip skirt? Or patent-beige pair of heels?

No.

People like me are the retailers’ worst nightmare. It’s not that we don’t we shop (we do!), it’s just that we got to make them beg, grovel and jump through fire hoops before we part with our money semi-willingly. HA.

What a long post. I'm gonna stop here.

Hide Bar and Grill, Durham

If you thought Durham was all medieval castle, cobbled streets and old-fashioned English pubs, well, you are not exactly far off.

Let’s be honest.

Durham -sigh- Good ol’ (as in ‘really old’) Durham isn’t about to overthrow London or New York’s as Capital of the World anytime soon. Although they do have their fair share of clubs, Coolhunters aren’t about to move to Durham to spread more-than-just-words anytime soon. Hide Bar and Grill probably raised Durham's cool meter by centigrades.



You know a mushroom soup is worth its spore-bearing body when you get a pureed blend of grainy mushrooms… and just not mushroom toenail-bits in baby’s-puke-cream. Hide’s mushroom soup was awesome and one could almost hear the whirling sound of a food processor or hand blender.



Dad’s lamb rump was served on a bed of zucchini and the whole baby potatoes lent a rustic feel to the entire dish. The rump was cajolingly tender, despite its thickness.



Predictably, mum went for the pork filet that came with wholegrain mash and sliced caramelized apples, drenched in pear cider cream. Her pork would have made those who weren’t afraid of becoming public spectacles squeal with delight. Although the mash was totally devoid of the wholegrain-ness, the overall assembly was very pleasing.



I had considered ordering the marinated duck breast that Yang had because it came with sweet –delovely!- potato and garlic mash. Well, I didn’t because she really wanted it and I had other options… Yang must have enjoyed her duck or been really really hungry. She finished so quickly, I didn’t even get a chance to say, “Can I try…” If the duck’s deliciousness were measured by the number of seconds it took to polish off the dish, I think it’s safe to say this duck’s a winner.



Joyce’s bacon-onion-cheeseburger was huge. In fact, the rest of us were more or less done with our mains and she was barely halfway through. I didn’t try it because it was my first time meeting her and I didn’t want to scare her by pinching her dish; in other words, yeap I was pretending to be civilized. She couldn’t finish her fries and that almost compromised my pseudo-civilized act. I asked for one frie. Uno. Singular. And I stopped. Gaw-, I was thisssss close to flubbing my act…



I had the cod with chorizo and buttered cabbage. Sadly, the cod failed to swim as it was dry and underseasoned. The chorizo and buttered cabbage was interesting and odd at the same time - interesting together; odd with the cod - but it failed to revive the sinking dish.



Like the cod, Nick’s pancetta-wrapped goat’s-cheese-stuffed chicken was only interesting on paper. To me, the description read “Pancetta! Wrapped! Stuffed! Goat’s cheese! Fireworks!” but taste-wise, it was “Blah Blah Flightless Bird”. Just in case you are wondering how I managed to keep up my act and taste this dish, well Nick and I knew each other back in JC; though we were vaguely aware of each other’s existence i.e. not BFFs, I thought that was enough to warrant a bite of his dish. Ah, so many things to consider when you are eating off someone’s plate…



We shared a platter of dessert, which consisted of a cheesecake, brownie, pudding, curd and “mess”.

The blueberry cheesecake sat in in the middle of the plate, where a layer of blueberry topping clothed the soft velvety cheesecake.

The brownie with ice cream was … well you can’t go wrong with this dessert, especially if the brownie’s Fudgy with a capital ‘F’.

Marmalade Pantry’s STDP will always be the benchmark to meet or beat; Hide’s was delectable but the pudding still hadn’t dethroned Marmalade’s ‘cushion’ status. I can do with just ‘delectable’ … haha



‘Eton mess’ is a classic English dessert traditionally served at Eton College's annual "Fourth of June" celebration picnic. Despite its elite origins, this dessert was by and large a tooth-achingly sweet mess made of strawberries, meringue, cream and tons and tons and tons of sugar. Did I mention it’s tooth-achingly sweet?

The lemon curd was everything one could hope for in a lemon curd- custardy, citrusy and sweetish, with enough zest to own the term ‘lemon curd’.

Overall, it was an enjoyable dinner at Hide. Too bad we only found out about this place after Yang spent 3 years in Durham.

Hide Bar and Grill
39 Saddler Street
Durham
DH1 3NU
Phone 0191 384 1999