New Years Day. The clock strikes midday and the world is asleep. Well, not everyone’s asleep I suppose given that our planet revolves on an axis that bends the time continuum (it hasn’t quite mastered space yet, unlike Hiro Nakamura). Someone, somewhere, is awake.
For someone like me, someone who happens to know a lot of people who live on the other side of the planet, the bending of the time continuum is a right pain in the behind. This is especially so for me, because I have a handful of friends who don’t seem to grasp the concept of timezones.
Time. Zones. That 4pm in the afternoon for you, is not 4pm in the afternoon for me. Not even close.
*silent vent*
But I digress. It’s midday on New Years Day, a new decade, 2010. The world London is asleep and I’m hungry.
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Last Saturday night was primed to be one of the highlights my culinary life. That is, aside from the inimitable Fat Duck, but that experience reigns supreme and blitzes any competition out of the stratosphere.
Last Saturday night, we went to Nobu. And not Nobu Park Lane, which I’ve had the pleasure of enjoying, but the reputedly superior Berkeley branch, what with its wood fired oven and all that shiz.
Well, primed as it may have been and good as the food was, my experience was still partially shattered by the fact that they now have a no photo policy.
I mean, come on food bloggers, all together now: WHAT. THE. FUCK.
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There are only two Thai restaurants that I go to in London. That’s not to say that they are the best, but they are very good and consistently so. I mean, there are a serious number of dodgy Thai places in L-town, some that don’t even serve dessert *blasphemy!* and others whose service varies so dramatically that it gives me whiplash.
There’s no secret that my very very most favouritest Thai is Siam Central on Charlotte St. Not once have I had a sub-standard meal there and everyone I’ve brought has been duly converted. We are the believers. Now, Siam Central is uber convenient for me, because it’s like two minutes from my apartment. So that’s all good, but what do I do when I’m at work?!
Well. The answer, my friends, blew to me quite literally in the wind, and it whispered ever so enticingly… “Thai 33, baby”.
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I’ve been wanting to blog about Four Seasons and their roast duck for so long that you wouldn’t even believe me if I told you. I’ve been wanting to blog about them since before I even had a food blog (which is a little bit like before my life began really, isn’t it?) and in fact, they were one of the reasons for me starting a food blog, because I wanted to share all the awesomeness with every body.
What’s been the hold up? Well. The thing is. Every time we go to Four Seasons, we order the same thing. Roast duck. And I’ve been waiting ever so patiently all this time to “collect” more photos so I could share a little bit more of their menu… but sadly, I don’t even know what’s on the rest of the menu because I never even look. Ever.
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I have been massively distracted lately. My one-track foodie brain has been occupied and while I am still able to ramble endlessly about super awesome delicious cookie dough, I’m not really thinking about food. I’m thinking about one thing and one thing alone.
Eric Northman.
True Blood. Vampires. Eric goddamn-he’s-so-hot-can-I-bite-him-now Northman. Brooding. Emo. Nordic. Vampire. Need I say more?
This ridiculous pre-pubescent crush thang actually worries me a little, because the last time I was this obsessive about a fictional character, it was Edward Cullen, and he too is a vampire. This trend doesn’t bode well for me as a juicy little human person and while I’d just as easily say “oh Eric bite me now! Make me vampire!” I’m glad my instincts are stronger than my focus and if, if, Eric were to bite me (usually in the throes of passion too, which I’m guessing makes it that much harder to say no… oh my mum reads this blog ~ Hi mum!) I’m sure I would snap right out of under his spell and realise that OMG. Vampires. They don’t eat food. FOOD.
Foooooood!
And just like that, my fling with Eric would be totally over. And my laser focus would be back on food, where it rightly resides.
Speaking of which…!
Damn near obsession material is Dinings Restaurant, especially their seared wagyu beef sushi with truffle salsa and ponzu jelly. This heavenly little piece of sushi don’t come cheap, but amidst the throes of sushi passion, we ordered it again. And again. And again. Four times, in fact.
And it’s not just the wagyu sushi, dining @ Dinings as a whole is… orgasmic.
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what’s talkin?