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.
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.
Last night we had a couple of friends over for dinner, for some good food (I hope!), good vino and good conversation. The evening turned into a competitive, physical, sweat-inducing tournament of Wii Tennis instead, but hey I hope the food was still good!
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…
So this time round, I wanted to get in as much as I possibly could in the two days we were there.
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.
… So I’ve been blogging for oh my god, almost 5 years now. I started on xanga, whose restrictive nature forced me to find refuge elsewhere, and hence I landed on blogger. After four solid years with blogger, I’m feeling the distinct urge to stretch my blogging legs again and get my own domain. My blogger was also starting to feel a little scattered, with no direction, no focus, no theme. And don’t we all need themes? So here I am in thecattylife, powered by wordpress, hoping to find my new home for the foreseeable future.
What I pledge of thecattylife is a blog choc full of stories about my most favourite thing in the world – food – and no doubt I’ll sneak in some stories about me as well. I’m constantly eating, thinking about eating or talking about eating, so much so that my food-trodden friends have suggested that I do a career one-eighty and become a food critic.
Hah! As if that would be possible, how can I possibly criticise food?