Foodie Week of August

Time flies. It is already the month of August. 8 months into the year of 2014. And another 4 into year of 2015. Depressed much? Don't be.. because I'm about to indulge your eyes with some picturesque foodie pictures :p

It was a normal working day. I made a point to my (big) boss that I'm only available before 5pm and unfortunately wouldn't be able to accompany him to see a consult should he decide to appear after. The clock stroked 5pm and there I was, clutching my Guess working bag with my wind-breaker ready to go -knocking on his door. I smiled and went inside his office when he gave me the nod. 

'Where are you going?' He simply asked. 'Going on a date, again?' He continued.

I blushed, instantly. How would he knows such things?

I gave him the most pathetic smile with all the confidence I don't even have.

'Where are you going this time around? Which restaurant?' He asked again. He was busy opening a box full of letters which I believed to be his pocket money from his private clinics. 

I answered 'Somewhere in Ranelagh.'

This time his eyes beamed with the 'I-know-all-about-Ranelagh' sort of look. And I know, I rubbed him the right way.

He went on and on with his lists of foodie places as he has decided that he knows it best:

-Tribeca

-Cinnamon

-La Bodega

-etc. etc.

I have a fixed smile on my face. I still want to sneak out at 5pm without causing him much anger and without throwing it to his face -that I have been to all those places. But how am I suppose to do it politely? ;p

He looked at my face and suddenly 'Arg! I bet you haven't been to this place. I bet you.' It sounds like he is competing against himself while I got myself entertained. It's a funny sight; seeing him all worked out about me going on a date with my husband. That's one of many amazing facts about my (big) boss. 

'It's Brioche. French-tasting restaurant. I bet you haven't been there,' he keeps on repeating himself.

He's right. I have never been. So off we went. To this small chic place called Brioche, Ranelagh. It is located off the main street ;embraced by warm yellow lights and cosy booth. Conquering an area of less than 400sqft,it somehow managed to amuse me, from corner to corner.  

Browsing through the menu,I made up my mind rather quickly. Here were some pictures I took:

CHICKEN: terrine of thigh, pistachio crust, charred baby onion, pickled mushroom, wild asparagus.  Rating 5/10

 THORNHILL DUCK: pan-seared Thornhill duck breast, artichoke purée, glazed new season cherries, cherry gel. Rating 10/10

 BEEF: Onglet steak, potato croquette, baby carrots, carrot chips & carrot purée. Rating 9/10

LAMB: lamb breast, herb stuffing, lamb sweetbreads, garden pea puree, mint gel, lamb jus. Rating 9/10

These are all rather small portions, so you're expected to order 2 to 3 courses each. So we did. We were not full but not hungry either. I think I could do with 2 plates of the duck dish. YUMS!

Later that weekends, my appetite was rather poor. The weather wasn't great either. Hubby came back from his on-call and quickly dragged me away from my duvet to join the weekends with fellow community in Dundrum. It was the carboot sale! The crowd was quite huge so I enjoyed the people watching ;)

We stopped by the community 'coffee place' which usually served as a local church. They really did a great job. From brownies, lemon cake, sandwiches -they have it all. We had fun!

Later that day, hubby cooked this very tasty lamb dish..

 And the next day, another lamb dish! LOL. But gotta say: they're soooooo soooooo good! Well done lao gong!

To satisfy that sweet cravings, we went to our favourite pastry chef: M&S. These Petite Patisserie is a bargain with 10 small sweet goodies. Love them. And I can finish them all in one day..

Dear M&S, you're too good to be true. Let's date again :)

So tell me, what is your sweet favourites?? 

Caio! XX

August, 16th

Lisbon, May 2013 #throwback

And here is another of my diary input back in 2013

Lisbon throwback..

Enjoy!

Vienna, please come to momma! XX

Howth, Summer 2013 #throwback

Hey guys,

Here is a peak to some of my diary input in the last years. I have to admit that I have a bad habit -writing while travelling. Editing while travelling. Eating while travelling :)

They're nothing personal so I thought I would like to share some with you guys! XX

Till we meet again next summer Howth!!
sophiavoon.blogspot.com

Christianity -Congenital or Acquired

Born as a Christian -so I thought I was.

What is so wrong being born as a Christian? I like it. I love it, in fact. And my parents certainly have no doubt that I MUST be a Christian. There's no way around it. There's no way out.

When I was young, we exercised Christianity not only as a religion but as our race and nationality. At least that was what I thought. More than I understood what it meant being an Iban (my tribe), I understood being a Christian far better. Hence I thought you must be born as a Christian -to be a Christian. And like any other children whom I played hide and seek with outside the church, me too, was born as one.

Now I was brought up in a super tiny town village called Song (a province in Kapit, Borneo); two hours boat-ride away from civilisation. This place is quite magical. Facilitated with a merely sufficient community clinic, a double bedroom-sized library, two primary schools, one not-too-ambitious high school and ten shop houses - it's my amusement park. I somehow managed to keep myself very busy: 24 hours a day, 365 days a year.

Being a Christian here is a given. Most of my friends are Christians (Catholic, in fact) and if they're not -it's okay too. We all still share the same common food, language and nobody cares if we disappeared into the woods during school recess time and that's all that matters.

Through my childish observation, being a Christian means you go to church every Sunday in your best dress -without fail. It means you listened to the boring summons and you'd better NOT yawn. It means you kneel down and recite 'Our Father' and pray rosary. Rosary is a big thing that sometimes you invite people to your house just to pray rosary alone. And where there is an important event such as this, there's food. Plenty of food (amen!). Indeed, I was a very happy Christian. Through the same childish observation, I also know being a Christian means being generous, loving, kind, putting someone else's needs before yours, to make the best out of every little things, rejoice in small pleasures -because everyday, every single day, I was surrounded by such people.

10 years later.

Someone asked me: 'Have you ever considered going for baptism?'
Me (giving her a look): 'I'm baptised. I'm Catholic.'

10 years later.

I am still a Christian -if you called people who believed in Jesus are Christians. I don't kneel down any more though. But I still recite 'Our Father' and I misplaced my rosary. My journey as a Christian is a painful one but God knows it will be, He has warned me in the bible. Sometimes, I argued with Jesus and even gave Him the silent treatment. Sometimes I am so frustrated with the world which will eventually become His fault. He gave me heartache, made me cry and broke me into pieces. But He is also the one who lift me up, who makes me smile and always gives me hope -through various means.

Except that I always forget: me too gives Him heartache, made Him cry and broke Him into pieces.
And He was just trying to remind me, over and over again -how to love. Unconditionally.

I certainly know now I wasn't born as a Christian. What my parents want me to be could certainly guide me but I should be completely independent in making that choice for myself.

Christianity is not congenital nor acquired. It is a personal journey between you and God.
I am a God's child. I did feel special. And still does.

P/s: When I was young, we have almost similar picture like above hanging on our wall and how I always wished that child was me (clinging warmly in His embrace).

But I am. I just didn't know it then ;)