Updated: Mar 5
On my way home, I bumped into a dessrt-and-burger place whose afternoon tea soothed my nerves after a day of work.
As you know, I have a new habit of walking home or to work starting from earlier this week. Like before, I hopped onto the bus from the nearest stop to workplace, and I chose not to drop off in my neighbourhood. Rather, I took a detour to Central Market. That's where my habitual walk began.
For me, there are three ways to do the walk, and they have a subtle difference in terms of style. Say, the permanade is my all-time favourite, but it doesn't hurt to sacrifice the roar and crash of the surf for the lights and buzz in main roads. You may be surprised to find how works of rennovation and reconstruction are completed unnoticed.
I didn't take either way. I took the third road to some shortcuts. Well. It didn't save me time to be exact because I explored every nook and cranny of a narrow area, but I'm willing to do it again because of my discovery today.
The feature a burger place went unnoticed as I scanned through the menus by the road. The thought of having a dessert in this red-clayed chamber felt refreshing, comfy. I'm picky about patisserie, though, for I'm often unimpressed by the overly-sweetened fat and the artificial odor of 'essence'. I had to step closer before another disappointing decision. The cake display in the centre of the restaurant looks inviting. The look of the cakes is unique, refined, and fun. You can tell that the pâtissière put efforts into creating great details and styles.
My gut asked me to order something unexpected in elsewhere, so I gave their Pear Charlotte a try. Right, I was literally eating 'Charlotte', silly. The cake was slightly larger than the average petite ones in famous places. Its exterior was held by a ribbon of sunflower yellow, written 'MELT'. You see the entire spongefinger cake once you untie the knot. On top, the creamy white wreath braided the rim, clutching translucent slices of pears - achieved having cooked. The art stood gracefully itself.
The outer layer of spongefinger tasted of fresh eggs. Seasoned baking time and incorporating of egg whites allowed an airy, crisp foundation to the milky moist inside. The cream was made heavy to stark a contrast, but not in an overwhelming way. What surprised me was the hints of zest within the snowy spread. I like to think it refreshed your taste buds with a minty resembling between lime and cucumbers, it'd be most likely a fruit or an herb unbeknowst to me. This is why the cream is easily taken in, untroubled by the lavish syrupy of the cooked pears. I'm certain that the pears were poached without much spieces like cinnamon or star anise - would have overdone the flavours profile! Last but not least, hidden inside the petals of pear were gems of jelly that, perhaps, made of pear juice in my wild guesses.
'Cat Baddie' (how I call it) sticking a slice of cheesecake into its mouth in the grumpiest way possible: cats will be cats.