Blog Giveaway!

I adore milk tea! Sweet, creamy, milky, and just downright yummy, this little cup of joy is the current big thing of all foodies and health buffs out there. Since coming into the metropolitan scene in the past year or two, milk tea shops have been mushrooming everywhere. And yes, I got addicted as well :) Who wouldn't?

Not only is it yummy, it's chock-full of all the healthy goodness that only tea can offer. Tea is a good source of antioxidants, plus it boosts the immune system and increases metabolism. Weight watchers can also rejoice because tea is virtually calorie-free.What's more, adding a splash of milk to your tea gives added benefits of calcium, iodine, and amino acids. Yummy and nutritious indeed!

I used to go all the way to Cagayan de Oro just to have my fill. So when I heard that CozyCup was going to open in Iligan, I was ecstatic! Of course, I love sharing my happiness so I'm giving all you readers a chance to win up to 20% discount on all regular-sized milk teas from the Cozy Cup. Just follow the mechanics and below:

1. Like Cozy Cup on Facebook.

2. Like The Sweetshop on Facebook.

3. Share the promotional picture on Facebook and tag 5 of your friends with the heading, "I want to avail the 20% discount at Cozy Cup Milk Tea Shop!"

4. Leave a comment on this post with your full name, email address, and Facebook name.

It's that easy! Winners will be notified by email before September 18, 2012. So hurry! Join now and enjoy the goodness of milk tea! :)

Summer Nights

The thing about summer in the Philippines is that it can get excruciatingly hot at night.  Sleeping without a blanket is so not my thing, but even for a thermoregulation-challenged individual like me, I have no choice but to kick my warm sheets out of my bed. It leaves me feeling incomplete falling asleep, but really - desperation, that's what it is.

But the real deal about summer nights are actually any of these things:

1. Cold kalamansi juice with brown sugar.

2. Having an excuse to climb up the rooftop to watch the clear night sky.

3. Wearing short shorts and skimpy skirts.

4. Waking up in the middle of the night. Impulsive baking. Three different kinds of brownies. All at once.

These days, I rarely get to bake for me and my family. While I do bake everyday, it's often for my clients. But on hot summer nights when I just need to make myself feel better get a fix of some sort, I turn to baking brownies. The heat makes me restless to do anything other than sweat in bed. While baking certainly has its own way of giving me a work-out, it's the only kind of exercise I would rather submit myself to. It's an addiction. No big deal.

Peanut Butter and Graham Brownies

Sometimes, a scoop or two just won't do. Just dump all the peanut butter from the bottle.

Coconut Brownies

* In my haste to eat the coconut brownies, I was not able to take pictures. Of course, I may have consumed all of it at once, but I'd rather not talk about my *cough* gluttony *cough* being forgetful. 

Chocolate Smores Brownies

Because swirling melted marshmallows and grahams into your brownie batter makes you feel better. True story.

Again, three kinds of brownies all at once. Because summer nights make me feel more hungry productive than any other night of the year. And really, it's all about making me feel better about my no-blanket situation.

Make your own summer night treats as well!

Basic Brownie Recipe (adapted from Bakergirl)

1/2 cup butter, melted
1 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 cup all purpose flour
1/4 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. baking powder

Preheat oven to 350F. Grease or line an 8x8 inch baking pan with parchment paper.

Mix together melted butter, sugar, eggs, and vanilla in a large bowl until smooth. Add in cocoa powder,  flour, salt, and baking powder. Mix until well combined.

Variations:

For Peanut Butter and Graham Brownies: Fold 1 cup crushed graham and 1/2 cup crushed nuts into prepared batter. After batter is settled in the baking pan, top with 1 cup peanut butter and swirl it around to create a marbled (and yummy!) effect.

For Coconut Brownies: Top prepared batter with 1 cup coconut shreds.

For Chocolate Smores Brownies: Fold in 1 cup melted marshmallow and 1 cup crushed graham into batter before transferring onto baking pan.

Pour batter into prepare baking dish and spread evenly. Bake for 35-45 minus or until toothpick inserted into sides come out clean. Allow to cool completely before serving.


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Easy Philly Cheesesteak Sandwich

Last night, I grilled some steak for family dinner. I used this recipe from Yummy magazine, and it was phenomenal! I'm used to having the sweet-spicy/juicy kind of steak, but what I liked about last night's dinner was that the flavors were so simple. With only a cup of oil and a handful of some basic herbs, the flavors of the beef were well brought-out, ceasing the need to cover it up with barbecue sauce and such. I served it with roasted potatoes, garlic mushroom, and some home-made coleslaw. Needless to say, I got all of us stuffed!

This afternoon, I noticed some left-over steak in refrigerator. And because I was mad-hungry for something substantially filling, I came up with this great philly cheesesteak sandwich. A cheesesteak, or a Philadelphia cheesesteak to be exact, is a sandwich made from thinly sliced pieces of steak and melted cheese in a long bun. True to its name, it traces its origin to Philadelphia, USA.

I've never had a philly cheesteak in my life, but due to long hours of exposure to the Food Network and all those recipe books which made a hole in my wallet, I can say I've theoretically mastered the art of making it. However, due to limited resources, I had to improvise and make use of what was readily available.

Since the remaining steak piece was relatively huge, I sliced it into thin strips. The next thing you wanna do is prepare the gravy. You can use any ready-mix gravy, but I make mine from scratch.

In a bowl, mix 1 beef cube with 1 cup hot water and stir to combine. Once this is properly mixed, add in 2 tablespoons of cornstarch.

Heat a small pan and pour in the liquid mixture. Keep stirring. Once it thickens, pour in 2 tablespoons of all-purpose cream.* Add in the beef slices and allow to simmer.

* This is not my usual gravy recipe as I normally make a roux out of butter and cornstarch first before adding in the broth. But like I said, I had to make do with what's available. The new gravy recipe turned out to be better than the first. :) 

Meanwhile, slice a loaf of French bread into two pieces, lengthwise. Toast them for about 3 minutes only. You don't want your bread to be crunchy, but you wouldn't want it to absorb the liquid from the cheesesteak either.

One the gravy mixture is reduced in half, pour it on top of the bread. Add in some fresh onion rings. Then here's the best part - scoop some Cheezewhiz spread over the whole thing and watch it melt into perfection through your own eyes. Oooooooooh la la!

Place the top part of the bread and serve. Eating the sandwich can be quite messy, so I covered mine in a layer of parchment paper and aluminum foil. This is also a great way to pack your sandwiches if you intend to take it out as your baon.

Making this sandwich was so much fun because I was not really following any standard recipe. Instead, I went with my instincts and it's such a nice feeling to make something truly yummy out of nothing. 

Does this sandwich make me the most awesome girlfriend ever? ;) I think it's a big YES! :)

Berries and Cream

I was never a fan of strawberries. Fresh, juiced, jellied, or candied, I never seem to appreciate this perennial fruit, mainly because of the after-taste it brings to my palate. This coming from someone who can eat the whole chick (feather, bones, small beak and all) from a balut. 


I've had my share (and loads of it) of baking and creating strawberry-based desserts during my run at the pastry school, but the overexposure did nothing to desensitize my distaste for it. I'd have a taste or two, for comparison and knowledge sake of course, and I tried so hard to remain objective about the strawberry dishes we made in class.

Strawberry cheesecake made during class

So much for that though. I still keep getting requests from my friends and certain people to bake something strawberry-based. Oh the life of a baker.

But I chanced upon this lovely breakfast bruschetta recipe from Yummy magazine, and I simply had to make it. Of course, the catch is that, well you probably guessed it - it's a strawberry bruschetta. But that's not going to stop me. Well, that and considering that strawberries are rare, if not extinct, here in Iligan City.

I love bruschetta with the usual  savory stuff, so it was refreshing for me to actually do a sweet version of it. For those who do not know, bruschetta is an Italian hard bread that is often served with olive oil, tomatoes, and basil. These are served as appetizers or a simple light snack. You can basically use any hard bread available, the most common being a baguette or a French bread.

Luckily, all the ingredients I used for my bruschetta were leftovers so I was pleased not to have gone all the way to the grocery store to shop for them.

Initially, I though of replacing the strawberry part with bananas, but seeing that my Dad ate the last piece, I had to resort to something equally yummy and healthy - dried winter berries. I bought a pack of dried raisins, cranberries, blueberries, and cherries from a sale and I was glad not to have consumed them all at once at the time I first opened the pack.

Dried Berries Breakfast Bruschetta


1 cup dried fruits (really, you can use any fruit you want - fresh or dried)
1 cup all purpose cream, chilled
1/2 cup cream cheese
1/2 cup walnuts or cashew nuts, chopped and roasted
Honey
6-8 pcs. French bread, toasted and sliced diagonally

In a mixing bowl, beat cream cheese and all purpose cream until at spreading consistency. Fold in the nuts and fruits.

Scoop a generous layer of the cream cheese onto the toasted bread. Spread evenly. Sprinkle with more fruit and drizzle with honey.

Dried berries are a good source of vitamin C, anti-oxidants, and fiber.

What do you think? :)

Of Espasol and Rellenong Bangus

Kapampangans are the best cooks in the country.

I'm neither one nor the other, but I totally agree.  I've heard this phrase countless times and everywhere from every city I've ever been to and from every local cooking show I've watched. Locals will always have a special dish of their own - Pangasinan's Pinakbet, Zamboanga's robust seafood, and Cebu's Anthony Bourdain-praised Lechon - but when it comes to all-around, all occasion cooking, Kapampangans reign superior. And in spite of the majority's claim of this to be true - I know so. Why? Because I come from a family of Kapampangans.

My mother's parents, although pure-blooded Ilokanos, have spent a majority of their lives in San Fernando, Pampanga. Since my grandfather used to be a soldier in the Air-Force, my mom's family of five had to stay in Basa Air Base. And in Pamapanga is where they built their whole lives on. My grandmother, with her natural talent in the kitchen, got to learn the ropes of Kapampangan cooking quickly.

I can still remember the way she used to make Espasol, and the way she chuckled while looking at her rice-flour-dusted nose. Her rellenong bangus still leaves a delicious after-taste in my tongue, that even after 8 years of being unable to taste the dish, it's something my palate will always yearn for.

She was the very best cook I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. Until know, I can see bits and pieces of her impeccable taste through my Tito Harold's Kilawin, my Tito Abe's scrumptious and creamy goat kaldereta, and my Grandfather's Laing. These are the only remaining pieces of her that I can still cherish, apart from her memories.

I never really got to know her in a more intimate level, but I know enough to conclude that she was a woman with a great spirit and a big heart. Apart from that, I never really knew my place in her life. Until yesterday.

My mom told me something that made me realize I'm so much closer to my grandmother than ever before. It was that one sentence that completed the puzzle on where I stood in her short life.


"You're the only one to take her passion for food. If she were still here, she would've been proud of you."

And because I'm close to tears right now, I'll end this note with an article I've written shortly after she died years ago. I wish I could have learned so much more from her. But if it were her, I'm sure she'd tell me that sheer determination and passion is all it takes to excel.


Mamang was her not name, but it was what we called her. she was my grandmother, but she was not, as most grandmothers usually are, old and wrinkly, short and stubby. she had the elegance of a woman who prided herself on her femininity, even though she was different from the delicate flowery women in the rest of my family. tall and slender like a crystal vase, willowy like an ivy vine, her features marked the arrogance of her spirit, and the tiny lines along her face revealed the strength she had throughout her life. a native of Northern Luzon, she would occasionally visit us in Iligan, bringing with her boxes of Pampanga’s finest delicacies. she always reminded me of sweetened pork and crab fat, of anchovy and shrimp paste, of herbs and freshly sliced tomatoes. she fussed about in our kitchen, her unending fascination over the many, many things she could buy at our place, as compared to her hometown where commodities cost twice as much. she loved to make dishes foreign to us - espasol and relleno -things that were passed on to her by her ancestors of the bygone era. there was a feeling that you could get away with anything around her, but her ever watchful eye and fixed stern look would stop you from doing anything "improper". a simple girl from the barrio, she caught the eye of a rich man’s son with her dalagang filipina features,and she was married at a very young age,naive about the world, but nonetheless, filled with love and affection. and those things were passed on to us, even to me, her direct descendant. she’d pull me into my bedroom where she slept, opened her giant suitcase which smelled of mothballs and camphor, the elemental scent of her home in Pampanga. out came little wads of tissue containing miniscule treasures; rings and gold bracelets, pictures of her and Papang along with their five children in a faded black and white photo, scapulars and other religious items. she also gave me the freedom to succumb to my guilty pleasures- letting me eat raw Spam, giving me rockhard yema after i brush my teeth at night, buying me softdrinks and candies and coconut wine until i was red in the face for having drank too much. and she would just laugh it off; her notes were always in the highest decibels possible but very much unlike the melody of tinkling bells. it was more of the clucking of chickens hungry for food and she talked that way. she talked fast and irritating but i loved listening to her stories. she’d tease how my mother had gotten so used to Cebuano, that even her attempts of talking back in Tagalog or Ilokano were taunted because of the loss of her native accent. she was unstoppable; her sense of right from wrong was like a slap in the face, but of the good kind. that was years ago.

i never went to see her dying. my first semester in college had just begun when she stopped going to therapy. her cancer had gotten worse, and there was nothing else for the accomplished oncologists and the best big money could buy, to do. surrounded by her great walls and children and grandchildren, she chose to spend her last days in her mothball and camphor filled home.

three days after her 64th birthday, she died. my mother allowed me to travel alone for the first time, so i flew all the way to the place i spent so many happy childhood memories of. i saw my cousins, titos and titas and even relatives i never knew existed. i looked at Mamang in her rest, still stern and arrogant looking, but drained of the life she once had. this dead woman had once been alive, had once cooked espasol and relleno for us, had once laughed like a chicken and had once been loved by a little girl who feared her strength of character.

she was buried on the day i turned 17. people did not know if it was alright to greet me a happy birthday, but i wished they’d focus their attention to Mamang. i wished that everyone had a grandmother like her, brave and strong. i wished everyone would have someone to allow them to sneak into the kitchen and steal cans of Spam and pieces of yema. i wished for a Mamang for everyone.

In Julia Child's Shoes

This afternoon, I got hungry. Like seriously mad hungry. And because I wanted to take a break from anything that's stuffed with sugar, flour, and butter, I decided to cook a decent, filling snack for myself.

What could be more fitting than the humble omelette?

I know what you're thinking. What place does an omelette have in a baking blog? Or even in any food blog? Making it is so mindlessly simple that even toddlers can do it. Even if that toddler is a monkey. A monkey toddler on blindfold.

Genius at work

After watching Julia Child flip her omelette ever so flawlessly, I realized that there's more to the omelette than meets the eye. Whether you want a delicate French-up roll, or a full-moon platter reminiscent of Spanish reference, or even a traditional English half moon - the omelette needs two things in order for it to be perfect: quality ingredients and the right size of pans. Oh, as for the flipping? You'd be better off if you had a lot of fearless wits as well.

And so I took out my eggs (haha), cracked them open in bowl, tossed in some salt, some cheese (just plain cheddar), and some cayenne (i love cayenne on everything - and yes even on my coffee). In my mind, I could hear the voice of Dexter in that popular Dexter's Lab episode wherein the only word he could say was "Omelette du Fromage". And I'd do him justice once I create my own omelette du fromage a la Child.

The thing is, I did all of this - cooking, flipping and all - expecting I'd get it right the first time. Expecting I'd end up with the same beautiful omelette Julia Child used to make on tv.

Oh Julia, why'd you have to make set the bar so high?

I remembered what Julia said about being fearless about the flipping. But I did not want to end up with an eggy mess, so I just shook the pan too modestly. The perfect omelettes require the right timing, or else you eggs will become dry and lose all its moisture. You would also want it to be smooth on the edges, with flaps covering the melting cheese on the inside. Instead, after much shaking and prodding, I produced this:

Later on, I learned that the perfect omelette doesn't just happen inside my head. Even with the Omelette du Fromage chant. So I resorted to online sources and checked up on what the gastronomists had to say.

• According to Larousse Gastronomique, 2-3 tbsps. of milk can be added to 8 beaten eggs for added fluffiness.
• The founder of the foodie community Egullet, Steven Shaw, says that "one teaspoon of cold water per large egg will make a difference in the fluffiness of the omelette...the water becomes steam upon hitting the pan...this steam rises throughout the omelette and acts as the leavening agent of sorts, thus making the omelette fluffier."
• Use eggs when they come to room temperature as cooking cold eggs will result to an overcooked base and will toughen up if not cooked fast enough.
• Harold McGee says, "If good scrambled eggs demand patience, a good omelette takes panache - a two or three-egg omelette cooks in less than a minute.
• If the pan is too big, the omelette will cook too quickly. If it's too small, it will be tough on the outside and be very very runny on the inside.
• It's tempting to use a non-stick Teflon pan to flip your eggs around flawlessly, but a cast-iron skillet will do just fine - if properly heated and buttered.
• Michael Roux Jr. School teaches how to cook the omelet like so: pour in the eggs, allow to set for 20 seconds, then start stirring and shaking the pan to no end until the whole thing is ready.

And what did Julia Child say about cooking omelettes? I think she did it the way Roux Jr does. 

One more thing.

I got this on valentines Day:

This is not my copy, although mine looks exactly like this. 

How could I have been so stupid to forget that I had Julia Child's seminal culinary book in my room? I could just easily flip through the page on the omelette and read through her instructions. After all, this was THE book that introduced French cuisine into the kitchens of every American household back in the early 1960's, owing to its easy to follow techniques. Darn it. I should not get too excited - or too hungry - if I am to expect perfection in my Omelette du Fromage. 

It happens.

What happens when you fall in love with a baker?

On my delusional days (which happens quite often), I fancy myself a writer. And then I found this : http://karenfelloutofbedagain.tumblr.com/post/14327141634/what-happens-if-you-fall-in-love-with-a-writer

I immediately fell in love with what she wrote. of course, i got jealous, like most delusional writers are. So I made my own version. I decided to use my being a baker instead to make things more legit. 

This is for you, Camera Boy.

What happens when you fall in love with a baker?

You will have to endure 2 am phone calls just to hear her cry over a flopped birthday cake due in the morning. You will have to run around the city and waste gas just to find a single bar of cream cheese, because frankly, your city does not seem to think cream cheese matters at all. You will have to grate six blocks of cheese, and whip up ten eggwhites until stiff but not dry, just because you have bigger arm muscles than her. She will not speak to you if you refuse to take pictures of her latest creation. And you will end up having flour on your new black shirt.

Sure, you get first dibs on her latest sweets creation. But that’s just the thing. You will be fashioned into a food critic. You will be expected to take mouthfuls and mouthfuls of sweets until your tongue numbs. And even if you hate nuts on chocolate, you have no choice but to devour them. You will be expected to be honest in a civil manner. If you say it’s good, she won’t believe you. If you say it’s the most disgusting thing you’ve ever tasted, she’ll cry. Yes, you will crush her spirit. But you have to live with the fact that doing so will make her a better baker.  You will have to go through the cold war after that.

You will start to feel less and less special. She will treat her kitchen tools with more love than she could show you. You don’t go out on dates anymore because all she ever wants to do is stay at home and cook.

You will have to listen to her drone for hours and hours about her culinary dreams. And even if you’ve heard it a million times, you are expected to nod and smile in all the right sentences. If you don’t, she’ll think you don’t believe in her. You will not hear from her for hours and hours afterward. She will not answer your calls because she’s in the middle of a baking frenzy. And the only reply you’ll get to your “ I love you” message is a curt “K”.

But what happens when a baker falls in love with you?

You will have mini-cupcakes delivered to you at any random day. Or chocolate chip muffins. Or heart-shaped cookies. You will have the luxury of eating French Macarons for free, knowing that one bite would already cost you more than your day’s allowance. A dish will be named after you. Or dishes, for each and every name you have. You will receive your coveted SLR lens in fondant form, and while you cannot use it to take pictures, it can withstand damage from fluids, unlike the real one. You will find a gumpaste mini-figure of yourself in her dresser. Or in her kitchen counter. Whatever works just to keep your presence close by. You will never have to miss out on your favorite food again. She will labor for hours in the kitchen, knowing that you deserve only the best. You will get to save money, and eat delicious home-cooked food at the same time. Your life will be filled with sweetness.

You will get to see the sweet smile on her face when she’s finally made it big, knowing that you played an important role in helping her reach that dream. You will become an inspiration, a guiding light, and a constant best friend to her. You will be her source of joy and strength.

You will get to hear her say “I love you, too” early in the morning, just as she hits the sack, and you’re about to start your day.  She will be a variety of all things sweet, spicy, salty, sour, and bitter. Everything will become unpredictable and exciting.

If you fall in love with a baker, your life will change. 

Food and I

Let me just say this.

I generally don't like people.

I can rephrase that. I'm not the most sociable person in the planet. Nor am I the techie-est. Or the most athletic. I start gasping for air after taking the stairs up to my bedroom. True story.

But I love to write. And anything that involves food makes me more bearable than the grouch I just made myself sound like. Baking, cooking, and writing are my therapies.

And when I start doing any of the three, I get a beautiful after-glow of suddenly becoming the friendliest person in the universe - or galaxy, if you were to compliment my creation.

These three things I know to be true. They make me a more congenial better person, if only for a few minutes hours. And that isn't so bad.

What makes you a better person?

Pink Monday

I had a bad case of pink Monday.

Halfway through my day (and work), my brain stopped functioning.

Then suddenly...

A vision of great proportions! I thought about PINK.

 Not her. Pink as in THE color pink.

Now I'm not the most romantic person in the world, but it must be because of the proximity of Valentine's Day that I had the brilliant idea of making heart-shaped cookies.

On any normal day, I should not be thrilled about this. Heck, I wouldn't even think about attempting to make cookies again. Because every time I did try, I never managed to bake a single cookie that was edible. But the vision of pink heart-shaped goodies kept distracting me that it was impossible to get any work done. So I succumbed to the voices. Darn.

Luckily, I had spare ingredients in the kitchen. After mixing, whipping, and folding, I rolled out my cookie dough and used a cookie cutter to get the desired heart shapes. I placed them neatly in rows on a greased baking tray and popped them in the oven.

No more dough rolling using tall glasses for me.

And because I've had too many bad experiences with cookies, I never left the oven whilst they were baking. Not even for a single second.

10-seconds into the baking. I took pictures by the minute afterwards. Yes, I was that paranoid.

Fortunately, the cookies turned out better than I expected. And the best part? They were edible. Even my mom couldn't resist stealing a piece or two.

Ta-da! I couldn't be any happier. *tear*

And here they are after being frosted with Pink icing:

My proudest cookie moment so far!

If Mondays were this awesomely miraculous, then I just might try making the perfect Soufflé or French Macarons next week. Then again, I don't want to push my luck just yet.

Packed nice and tight :)

What do you think of these cookies? 

Chasing Dreams

"You'll never know how far you are...

So never give up on your dreams. "

And this is exactly why I created this blog.

I've always wanted to be the first person to conquer the sun.

But then I learned that with a temperature of 6,000 degrees Celsius, it just isn't possible for me.

SO...

I went for this instead.

 It's only my childhood, adolescent-hood, and adult-hood dream anyway. No big deal.

Let the baking begin.