Be careful what you say to someone who’s interested in you, cos’ they might be your last.
And for the person I met for dinner this evening, the boat has definitely sailed. For dinner, he brought me to Broadway Cafe located off Duxton Road but it was a real misstep because despite a fairly insurmountable hot food menu, it wasn’t actually available for some reason. The sandwiches however, were available, and that’s what I ordered. The cafe, a movie set-themed atmosphere and props, is especially known for its alcoholic cakes. Instead of the more “contemporary” cakes like mousse and truffles we get these days at Bakerzin and Canele, it sells cakes that were probably more common in Singapore in the 80s. The cakes are also aptly named, taking inspiration from the golden days of old Hollywood and Broadway glamor, instead of being called for what they really are.
I ordered a Cheesy Tomato sandwich which resembles a French pan-bignat… okay, let’s not go there. The resemblance is clearly coincidental so I should just call it what it is, and nothing more. It’s a foccacia sandwich topped up with melted supermarket-pack cheese and sliced tomato and marinated with hollandaise sauce, served with a side of chips, which by flavor, should be the one by Pringles. It did its job of being dinner, and there’s nothing really more to say.
For dessert, we ordered The Martini and Blonde Bailey. Singapore may be a food haven, but I’d dare say that the majority of Singaporeans have no taste. Alcohol and 80s-style cream cakes DO NOT go well together. There were too many things going on, and each only served to highlight the flaws of each individual component. The sponge was alarming – enhanced by the alcohol, the egg yolk was plunged into centre stage and the result was a very striking, apparent but unwelcome savory omelette flavor which didn’t go down well, literally and figuratively. Also, the sponge was very mushy, as if someone had poured water over the cake.While the alcohol content in The Martini wasn’t obvious, it was in the Blonde Bailey, and not in a way that was delectable. The alcohol came off as striking, bitter and sharp in a very distasteful manner. At that point, it didn’t matter what you put on it. You couldn’t tell it was Baileys. It’d have been equally convincing if the menu mentioned it was a cognac or whiskey cake.