girls gone wild at uh…. Royal China?

royalchina_01

I have been really really slack with my posting. I can’t help it, I get so excited about my recent baking adventures that they are like my favourite children, my fingers stumble over each other trying to post them straight away and every-thing else falls by the wayside.

Favouritism. It exists. Deal with it. 

Anyway, I’ve been pre-occupied with I-don’t-know-what, but I do know that I’ve been so pre-occupied with stuff that I totally forgot our Girls Gone Wild (keep dreamin’) In Alicante trip is this weekend. It’s been two months since the planning began, right along side those Harwood Arms scotched eggs, and while there’s been many a date night since to drill into the finer details of our trip (amongst them Buddha Bar, which was just dark and expensive and I didn’t love it anywhere near enough to post about it), my favourite girls-weekend-planning-lunch has been at Royal China on Baker Street.

Good ol’ dim sum.

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self love and mathematics at dsum2. squared? how do you square dimsum?

chicken curry puffs; wasabi king prawns

There is something to be said about returning to a restaurant after repeatedly bad service. Not bad like ick, but bad like they-once-basically-accused-me-of-lying kind of bad.  And I don’t know, maybe this is a question about my pride, my self worth, my self love, but do you think that despite public humiliation, returning to the same restaurant time and time again just because they serve good great food is a little  lame? Or maybe it just means (in case you hadn’t realised it by now) that I really, really love my food.

Apparently more than I love myself.

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