macaroons

I first discovered this miniscule parcel of joy at the Lindt Cafe in Sydney, and marvelled over this half-biscuit half-cake creation with a delicate shell and soft, sweet centre.  I’d never seen one in my twenty-something years alive, and little did I realise the impact it would have on my life and the repeated trips I would take to Ladurée, Burlington Arcade, London, in search for the taste of one, just one, pistachio macaroon.

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granola parfait

Without fail, every single weekend (at least those that I actually spend in London) I wiggle my way out of bed shy of midday, and make my way down to Le Pain Quotidien on Great Marlborough Street, Soho. Usually I ignore the wet-from-the-London-drizzle outdoor seats and head straight indoors towards the large communal tables (or smaller private tables, if that’s what you prefer), all made from reclaimed or reused sources.

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When I went to Barcelona, Spain for a weekend last October, on the first day we ate Mexican food. Yeh I don’t know why either. And on the second day, I was hit by the mother of all flus, and had I actually been able to squeeze a morsel of Spanish food past my tonsils (which felt like they were the size of baseballs) I would have done, and probably raved on about it. But alas, I painfully swallowed my cold and flu tablets, and stayed in bed…

tapas_paella_churros_2

So this time round, I wanted to get in as much as I possibly could in the two days we were there. 

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rome-99

Let me back track four weeks, to the start of May, when we took a quick weekend trip to Rome to battle our vitamin d deficiency and to inhale as much gelato as humanly possible. It was my second trip to Italy; last December we dropped by Milan enroute back to London and to say I was not impressed with Milano food would be an understatement. But everyone tells me different about Rome, so good ol’ Roma had a lot to live up to.

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