vanilla cupcakes; banana muffins; sticky date pudding; Helen

There’s a lot to be said about being ambitious. Ambition is an in-built hunger, a drive to achieve, to push yourself and be the best that you can. To expect and accept physical, emotional and mental pressures to break you, and then make you.

Ambitious is my mother, who gained a degree while working part time with two young children. Ambitious is my brother, who gave his every last ounce of sleep, energy and sanity to be the brilliant physician that he is today. Ambitious is my friend, who wanted to ride a bicycle from Sydney to Melbourne, and did.

Ambitious is wanting to bake two recipes, when you know you can’t even bake one…

Eh? Say what?!

That’s not ambitious. That’s just stupid.

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lobster noodles at Mandarin Kitchen

Tw-eat-ups. I cannot get enough of them and if there is one thing, one real benefit of my hours spent virtually flitting around twitterverse, it’s the real life friendships that it has cultivated and the awesome conglomeration of people like me, people who just want to eat.

And the best thing? When you eat with foodies, no one is ever late.

So when someone (who? I don’t remember but does it really matter?) suggested we hit up Mandarin Kitchen on Queensway for some lobster noodle, not only did I jump at the chance, I arrived a full ten minutes early only to find that I wasn’t the first person there. I wasn’t even the second. Or third! I was fourth!

Geezus what is wrong with these people?

‘Nothing’ is the answer. EuWen, Kang, Kang’s twitter-averse better half, and Charmaine ~ all of us: eyes an incandescent red, incisors dripping with saliva over our upcoming meal…

Yeh, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with us!

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Alicante with the girls

Girls trip. In Alicante. Need I say more? There is really honestly truthfully I-swear-on-my-mother’s-grave (oh, hi mum!) nothing more invigorating, more empowering, more fun and infinitely more daggy than a girls trip to anywhere. And anywhere with blue skies and endless velvet beaches is a definite bonus.

I mean, girl-bonding is really nothing like boy-bonding. Boy bonding involves… drinking. That’s it, it’s pretty simple the boy thing because well, they are simple. Us on the other hand, we’re multi-faceted, complex creatures. We need depth, conversation, laughter, tears (of laughter), gossip, analyses, bikinis, sunshine, ice cream, bubbly and most of all, we need good food.

The boys, I don’t think they ate at all.

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SF_Vegas_LA

photos courtesy of the interwebs

I know it seems like I travel a lot. A LOT. But would you believe me if I told you that this year, this whole year, I’ve only taken two days leave? Believe it, sister, because it’s true.  While it seems like I’m constantly travelling (because I am), there’s a big fat difference between travelling and actually going on holidays.

The criteria? Actually going on holidays requires that I set an out-of-office message on my work email. It’s that simple.

But guess what? In 10 sleeps (there is no shame in counting), I hit the west coast of the US of A (SF, Vegas & LA) for a full ten days! *eeeeeek! excitement!*

Amidst this excitement though, I’ve been massively tardy with my food planning. Aside from some obvious choices (such as the Bellagio buffet because, OMG repeat after me: All You Can Eat Crab!), I am listless, hopeless and possibly going to be left hungry unless you, you my lovely blog readers, suggest some must eats for me.

Please?

I’ll buy you a Sprinkles cupcake! *promise*

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Oddono's pistachio; Scoop's stracciatella; Freggo's toffee and raspberry

I meant to do this post ages ago. Like, back in June or something when it was actually warm. It was supposed to be a teeny tiny guide to the handful of places in London that sell this delectably frozen treat also known as ice cream (ok, not just ice cream, we’re talking gelato, sorbets and fro-yo as well), and my five cents worth about it all.

But we all know my cents are only worth half as much as what I sell them to be.

And now that this post is a ridiculous 3 months overdue, I think I owe you money for actually reading this crap.

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scallop tomato and basil salad

Every once in a while, I take the liberty to work from home, not only because I can, but because I actually get an incredible amount of work done when I’m not idly chit-chatting with people. Oh who am I kidding. It’s because I can. I mean, really, I have the interwebs.

The habits of a person who works from home is not unlike that of a food blogger. I’m in my pyjamas all day, trotting between the kitchen and living room in my Peter Alexander booties (which I adore and have in both pink and purple), scratching my butt (cos there is no one to see me ok) and wondering what to eat.

Actually, mainly I’m just wondering what to eat.

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