After last Saturday’s epic breakfast, I spent a whole week dreaming of Clinton Street’s fluffy pancakes. I had to satisfy my pancakes fix this weekend. As it turns out, I wasn’t the only one dreaming of pancakes. Off the three girlfriends I went with last Saturday, two also made plans to return the same weekend with their own group of friends. Comforting to know I am not the only crazy ones who thinks of pancakes all day long!
This morning, I returned with six friends! All equally enamored by pictures of pancakes and all crazy enough to join me at 8am to beat the (reported) hour plus queue. 8am on a Saturday! How intense can we get?! I know, I have good friends and am very lucky. I count my blessings everyday.
Also needless to say, everyone arrived looking a little sleepy. But that did not last for long. My friends entrusted their Saturday breakfast to me. I went to town.
Clinton Street Baking Co may have been opened for a week but there were already some changes. Including a whole page of the menu only available to order after 11.30am. That page includes the Buttermilk Fried Chicken and Waffles. I had that at 9.05am last week. We may have been restricted to one page of the menu and our choices seem to have been significantly curtailed but there was no need to worry because options aplenty!
After last week’s visit and research thereafter, there were some dishes high on my bucket list: Chocolate Chunk Pancakes, Brioche French Toast, Spanish Scramble and Crispy Potato Pancakes. Last week, the Banana Walnut Pancakes was also very special so my friends had to try them. Clinton Street in NYC is also known for its Huevos Rancheros – a Mexican breakfast staple so in the spirit of adventure, I ordered that too. Last but not least, there was the Country Breakfast for the scrambled eggs and buttermilk biscuit.
It was a swell morning. My friends were floored by the pancakes. The consistent fluffiness was incomparable. Hands down out of the three options, the Banana Walnut Pancakes was the best. Soft bananas generously embedded in the airy pancakes ensured every bite was fragrant. Drenched with the maple butter sauce, magical.
The Chocolate Chunk Pancakes was rich! While equally delicious, was not a dish one could eat for long without sugar coma taking over. Share this.
Equally stunning was the Brioche French Toast ($18) with caramelized bananas, roasted pecans, and warm maple butter. Even though they forgot the roasted pecans on our dish, no one remembered because the french toast was out of this world. Consisting of two slices of brioche, both wide and tall, each slices was generously battered. Boasting a barely crisp surface and a buttery, melt-in-your-mouth inside begging to be slathered with warm melted maple butter. Why are they not as famous as the pancakes?! My guy friend, who spent the entire time wondering out loud why anyone would wake up before eight for “pancakes” (including him but his girlfriend is away this weekend so he is lonely), took a bite and went “WOW”. Drown them with the sauce and proceed to travel to heaven.
The savouries were equally satisfying too. The Spanish Scramble ($19) was solid: three eggs, chorizo, tomatoes, caramelized onions, scallions, melted monterey jack, with hash browns and sourdough toast. Delicious.
Surprisingly, I liked the hearty Huevos Rancheros add chorizo ($24) which comprised of two perfectly-runny sunny side-up eggs over pinto beans, tangy tomato ranchero sauce and fresh guacamole, all topped with grated pepper jack cheese and jalapeño-laced sour cream. Many contrasting flavours and textures made this dish highly exciting!
Supposed to be served with tortilla, the kitchen didn’t seem to have them. Lucky us! Because they happily acceded to my request of substituting with the famed Buttermilk Biscuits. Everyone wins at Clinton.
I would highly recommend this dish if you are a) looking for a different breakfast; or b) a return customer at Clinton and sick of the pancakes (how that is possible, I will never understand.) But I know this dish is for my sugar-hating-parents. I am pretty sure the heartiness will satisfy them.
I really really like the scrambled eggs at Clinton Street and the Country Breakfast with the maple-cured ham satisfied my fix. Boasting the biggest buttermilk biscuit ever seen by mankind, we had a wonderful time mopping up the under-done eggs with the biscuit and hash brown.
Not every dish is a winner at Clinton. Case in point the dry Crispy Potato Pancakes with caramelized apples and sour cream ($14). The cafe was out of caviar so $19 for smoked salmon and lemon creme fraiche didn’t seem worth it. But it was the dry pancake I could not understand. And believe it or not, the caramelized apples could have been sweeter.
Including a side of Sweet Potato Fries sticks, before 9.30am we were done and feeling the early onset of food coma. But we were not done…
How could anyone skip dessert at Clinton St.?!
Especially the Peanut Butter Icebox Pie. Last week, the rich and light whipped peanut butter mousse took my breath away. This morning, my friends fell madly in love with it too! A friend took a bite of the mousse and was absolutely stunned by how peanut-“gao” (rich) it was. According to him, anyone who is allergic to peanuts will take a bite of this and die. Noted with thanks.
But to reiterate, this icebox pie is a must-order at Clinton.
The seasonal pie of the day was the Strawberry Rhubarb Pie and the prettiest pink pie had to grace our table. Clinton boasts their home-style flaky pie crust are made in-house daily. While I wish the crumble top could be more crumbly and less soggy, I was grateful the strawberry rhubarb mix was neither cloyingly sweet nor sharp, as rhubarb products may tend to be. But it was that flaky pie crust I found my fork reaching for again and again. It was an impressive buttery biscuit-y pie crust.
All in all, another orgasmic feast at Clinton Street Baking Co this morning. Immensely fun with its unique variety of options (where else to find good Mexican breakfasts in Singapore?!) I do however need to give this place a rest. Two weeks in a row?! I have an undefined waistline to prove it.