P.S. Cafe, Palais Renaissance

The ambience at P.S. Cafe at Palais Renaissance is pretty nice. It’s fitted to give you the feeling of being in a colonial building of sorts, with its use of the typical black and white colours characteristic of P.S. Cafe that also alludes to colonial buildings, or at least that is what I think. Also, as you stepped into the cafe, it’s indeed quite an eye-opener how much space is created within with its high ceilings and overhanging ceiling fans. It probably helps to make the place feel really cool, cold even, although the day was quite scorching and bright outside. We were there at mid-afternoon, when the Sunday brunch/lunch crowd were thinning out so it didn’t take long to get seated. I overheard a table subsequently lamenting that there was no more food being served, so I wasn’t sure what time they serve their food/brunch until. But we didn’t have a problem because my friend ordered a Croque Monsieur and I got the soup I ordered. The portions are pretty big, even the desserts and cakes look huge, and since it was near dinner time, we thought better than to order any desserts. Perhaps the next time, when I am craving for a cake fix. I have yet to try their cakes so I don’t know if they are good, but they look pretty decent and tantalising though.

This is the Roasted Tomato Soup I ordered. It’s a large bowl, and comes with a piece of toast, which I liked. But I can’t say the same for the soup. I’m generally quite alright with tomato soups or even tomato juice, but their version, I don’t know if it’s the “roasted” quality of it, or perhaps due to some other things they added to it, had a really strong “green” taste in it. It was quite sharp that I couldn’t just ignore it and ended up leaving more than half the bowl untouched. It’s a waste, yes I know, but I just couldn’t force it down my throat, and I will know better the next time, I’ll either order some other options or maybe another different soup.

20140609-103638-38198260.jpgOh but anyway, even though they stopped taking orders for brunch/lunch, they were still serving their famed truffle shoestring fries, which again, almost every table we saw had ordered a portion of it, and here at this outlet, more of the tables finished the fries, so it isn’t impossible. For me, it wouldn’t have been a problem too, just that after that I will feel extremely guilty, considering all the deep-fried potato, oil and trans fat. Haha.

i’m on a roll

For some time, I have been exercising excellent control over my cravings and addictions. Well, actually it is never up to me to do it because in the flesh, we are weak. But I know that it is ok, once in a while, to just indulge. Which is what I have been doing, although maybe a little too often and too much. I have recently found places that serve shoestring fries, my favourite type. I don’t fancy chunky fries for some reason, although I don’t mind eating them but they kind of remind me a little of potato wedges and I am not a fan. I know they are still potato, deep-fried ones, but I still prefer them in this form.20140518-230716.jpgAnd no thanks for any truffle oil or the likes, I prefer my fries plain, neat, whatever you want to call them. Basically, you just need to fry them and serve them up to me without anything. I don’t even want any salt on them, which was why in the past when I go to Mac’s I always try, whenever I can, to request for unsalted fries, which also meant I can get freshly-deep-fried French fries! And the places that I found that serve these shoestring variety of fries know all about value-for-money because they charge a fair amount and give me a whole humongous plate of them I’d guesstimate it to contain at least 2 large packets of Mac’s fries. Gosh.

What are fries without beer to accompany them. Yep, to me, beer is the complementary item, not the other way round. Best of all of course, is the company to have the beer and fries with, while catching up on our lives. Hope you all have a wonderful week ahead!


craving for the sweets

Treats from land of the rising sun that have disappeared into my mouth and into the thing they call a spare tyre, love handles, what-have-yous…

Disappointing mush of what is supposed to carrot cake at the P.S. Cafe. Weren’t you better before in providing comfort?

And it’s amusing how there is a need to announce to the world-at-large, or rather stare the eater in the face, the name of this cake, with a chocolate badge of the shop’s name. Not the best I’ve had definitely but doesn’t taste too bad either.

Days when I crave for something sweet, something sinful, yet the guilt trips they send me on engage in a delicate balancing act with the sugar high that results. Mind is lapsing into a suspense mode from the hours spent trying to decipher the familiar yet strange-looking characters that we call hiragana, katakana and kanji, in an eleventh hour attempt to revise and mug for the impending exams. I think I need more comfort food, because the unusual bout of concentrating on studying has multiplied the weariness that is seeping into the bones, yet time is just running out on me that slumber moments become hard to get.