It's been a year.
This exact day, one year back, I wrote a semi-narcissistic piece on how much I love food. Should I be worried that not a thing has changed? No. I'll save that for the quarter-life-crisis I'm due for next year.
A full year of cooking, taking bad photographs and borderline-raving to the gourmands of the blogosphere... and I'm hungry for more. Sigh. Beyond help.
The first few posts averaged around 15 views, on a good day. That didn't deter me. I continued eating, writing, eating whilst writing. Over the course of a few months, thanks to friends (and mum's friends) and word-of-mouth, the Stats-meter took an uphill journey. I still don't understand why anybody would be interested in reading a paragraph on the nuances of sour cream versus Greek yogurt versus creme fraiche. It's madness.
I get recognised as the "food blog girl." I get asked about what brand of cocoa powder to buy and what steak to order, more than I do about nebulizers and antibiotics. I get so many heart whelming "I loved your strawberry scones". All this for food-blog-hopping and baking brownies! It's insane and amazing, but mostly insane.
Oh, I've had brickbats, as well. "A doctor like you shouldn't be wasting time","why this obssession with food" and similar. But for the most part, I'm doing what I love and nothing makes me happier than being recognised as the "food blog girl."
So here's a huge thank you to all the like minded people who come here to indulge their inner fat-child. I will continue to ply you all with all the butter and demerara sugar Nilgris has on its shelves.
This calls for a celebration: I'll be reviewing the best food I've eaten this year today, as well as posting the recipe (as Part Two, tomorrow) for Salted Peanut, Triple Chocolate, Oatmeal Peanut Butter Cookies. It's one of those things that give you food-gasms and epiphanies... and there are no controlled substances involved.
Jettez un coup d'oeil (that's the last of the rudimentary French garnered at school: roughly translates to "Cast your eyes") on photos taken during a meal at 601 at The Park and dessert at Latitude 13 by The Park.
The Park needs no introduction. I don't have to talk about the brilliant hospitality, the classy interiors or the college-educated waiters (at least at 601). I, especially, do not have to mention the prices (they're pretty high, I'll stop at that. Like the Salvatore Ferragamo pumps on magazine spreads that just have "Price on Request" underneath them).
W and I had saved The Park for a special occasion. As usual, we just ended up going there dressed in work wear (not good when you work in a hospital) while on the hunt for a clean loo.
The clink of cutlery and Hunger (my omnipresent, un-imaginary friend) steered us in the direction of 601.
Hunger also dictates you order basic things that fill your soul and stomach. So. Pizza and Fish-and-chips. Sat back, in preprandial glee, almost saying "show us what you got. Entertain us."
Soon after placing the order, we were served with the bread basket filled to the brim with soft, delicate little dinner rolls brushed with butter, sprinkled with Sea Salt and grains and baked to a gorgeous golden-brown.
Carbaholics that we are, we finished the whole basket. We weren't going back there any day soon, so appearances didn't matter. The open butter chiplet should confirm the fact.
Gooey mozzarella.
This is better than the pizzas I've had at Tuscana. And it costs about the same.
As for the fish-and-chips.
Golden, non-oily, breaded-to-perfection fish fingers.
Fries that were almost a metre-long; crisp on the outside, tender and steamy on the inside. One thing I have to mention is the palpable grains of salt coating the fries. Nirvana. Hello, hello, hello!
The in-house tartar sauce and ketchup? Drinkable. Ask for refills. You're paying enough.
All I needed was a huge glass of chocolate milkshake with a striped red straw and I'd be done with good food for life.
The two of us finished every single morsel on the plate. That left us with no room whatsoever for dessert.
So on another occasion (Eid, to be precise), the cousins and I hit Latitude 13 by The Park on Wallace Garden Road.
The bill wasn't frighteningly high here, as we ordered the Hi-Tea combo. For 190 bucks (exclusive of taxes), you get a mug of coffee/tea and a dessert.
I got the Chocolate Truffle Cake, because it was Eid, and calories don't count on Eid.
Sarbee had an Apple-cranberry (I think) tart with vanilla ice cream (?gelato).
Love the chocolate syrup and condensed-milk zig-zags.
Also love it when ice-cream speckled with vanilla beans forms a cold puddle over flaky tart.
N joined us after dessert #1 at Sandy's Chocolate Laboratory, so she just had an apres-dessert sorbet. I'm blessed with crazies in the family; girls who do not fuss about one-dessert-per-day limits and the like.
The tea was a mug of garden-variety English Breakfast.
But my Cafe Mocha, with a thin almond biscotti, was delicious. If you discount the alarming smiley face.
Here's to biting into the new year!
Tomorrow, all you lovely people get to feast your eyes on the aforementioned triple-chocolate-chip-peanut-butter cookies.
Auf Wiederhausen! (yes, I treat myself to late night masochism in the form of Project Runway, cookies on the side).
P.S. Before I forget, thank you all so much. Again.
This exact day, one year back, I wrote a semi-narcissistic piece on how much I love food. Should I be worried that not a thing has changed? No. I'll save that for the quarter-life-crisis I'm due for next year.
A full year of cooking, taking bad photographs and borderline-raving to the gourmands of the blogosphere... and I'm hungry for more. Sigh. Beyond help.
The first few posts averaged around 15 views, on a good day. That didn't deter me. I continued eating, writing, eating whilst writing. Over the course of a few months, thanks to friends (and mum's friends) and word-of-mouth, the Stats-meter took an uphill journey. I still don't understand why anybody would be interested in reading a paragraph on the nuances of sour cream versus Greek yogurt versus creme fraiche. It's madness.
I get recognised as the "food blog girl." I get asked about what brand of cocoa powder to buy and what steak to order, more than I do about nebulizers and antibiotics. I get so many heart whelming "I loved your strawberry scones". All this for food-blog-hopping and baking brownies! It's insane and amazing, but mostly insane.
Oh, I've had brickbats, as well. "A doctor like you shouldn't be wasting time","why this obssession with food" and similar. But for the most part, I'm doing what I love and nothing makes me happier than being recognised as the "food blog girl."
So here's a huge thank you to all the like minded people who come here to indulge their inner fat-child. I will continue to ply you all with all the butter and demerara sugar Nilgris has on its shelves.
This calls for a celebration: I'll be reviewing the best food I've eaten this year today, as well as posting the recipe (as Part Two, tomorrow) for Salted Peanut, Triple Chocolate, Oatmeal Peanut Butter Cookies. It's one of those things that give you food-gasms and epiphanies... and there are no controlled substances involved.
Jettez un coup d'oeil (that's the last of the rudimentary French garnered at school: roughly translates to "Cast your eyes") on photos taken during a meal at 601 at The Park and dessert at Latitude 13 by The Park.
The Park needs no introduction. I don't have to talk about the brilliant hospitality, the classy interiors or the college-educated waiters (at least at 601). I, especially, do not have to mention the prices (they're pretty high, I'll stop at that. Like the Salvatore Ferragamo pumps on magazine spreads that just have "Price on Request" underneath them).
W and I had saved The Park for a special occasion. As usual, we just ended up going there dressed in work wear (not good when you work in a hospital) while on the hunt for a clean loo.
The clink of cutlery and Hunger (my omnipresent, un-imaginary friend) steered us in the direction of 601.
Hunger also dictates you order basic things that fill your soul and stomach. So. Pizza and Fish-and-chips. Sat back, in preprandial glee, almost saying "show us what you got. Entertain us."
Soon after placing the order, we were served with the bread basket filled to the brim with soft, delicate little dinner rolls brushed with butter, sprinkled with Sea Salt and grains and baked to a gorgeous golden-brown.
Carbaholics that we are, we finished the whole basket. We weren't going back there any day soon, so appearances didn't matter. The open butter chiplet should confirm the fact.
And the pizza that made me a convert from a only-deep dish-please girl to a thin-crust-can-taste-this-good? girl.
Chunky, juicy chicken.
Yummy jalapenos.
Sprinkled with a wee bit of dried oregano and chilli.
As for the fish-and-chips.
Golden, non-oily, breaded-to-perfection fish fingers.
Fries that were almost a metre-long; crisp on the outside, tender and steamy on the inside. One thing I have to mention is the palpable grains of salt coating the fries. Nirvana. Hello, hello, hello!
The in-house tartar sauce and ketchup? Drinkable. Ask for refills. You're paying enough.
All I needed was a huge glass of chocolate milkshake with a striped red straw and I'd be done with good food for life.
The two of us finished every single morsel on the plate. That left us with no room whatsoever for dessert.
So on another occasion (Eid, to be precise), the cousins and I hit Latitude 13 by The Park on Wallace Garden Road.
The bill wasn't frighteningly high here, as we ordered the Hi-Tea combo. For 190 bucks (exclusive of taxes), you get a mug of coffee/tea and a dessert.
I got the Chocolate Truffle Cake, because it was Eid, and calories don't count on Eid.
Sarbee had an Apple-cranberry (I think) tart with vanilla ice cream (?gelato).
N joined us after dessert #1 at Sandy's Chocolate Laboratory, so she just had an apres-dessert sorbet. I'm blessed with crazies in the family; girls who do not fuss about one-dessert-per-day limits and the like.
The tea was a mug of garden-variety English Breakfast.
Tomorrow, all you lovely people get to feast your eyes on the aforementioned triple-chocolate-chip-peanut-butter cookies.
Auf Wiederhausen! (yes, I treat myself to late night masochism in the form of Project Runway, cookies on the side).
P.S. Before I forget, thank you all so much. Again.
Me commenting just does not seem to be working. What I've been trying to say is I've become a thin crust convert and a Dr Oetker addict. I even did thin crust when I made home made pizza. There's something about it that brings out the taste of the toppings more and you can pretend that it has less carbs :P
ReplyDeleteAnd well done you!! Here's to another year of foodiness and drooling at our desks. Just don't come up with too many recipes that I feel like I have to try in the next 3 months
It makes me wish everyday was Eid. A) Because of the brilliant pastires and B) You would be writing about me all the time then :)
ReplyDeleteBrilliant one rabee. You make me feel like good food is a girls best friend. Screw the diamonds. And you know how much I love them.
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Anisha: You should become a professional, kickass comment-er! You outdo yourself each time you comment! Thank you SO MUCH!
ReplyDeleteSarbs: Food IS a girl's best friend. Diamonds, also. And shoes and books. And chocolate. Wait. We've come full circle. :)
You should try the hazelnut and chocolate smoothie in Latitude by The Park. It is SO good!
ReplyDeleteCongrats on your blogversary! I really love reading it! :)
Thank you so much, Zarine! Means a lot, coming from a true blue foodie/writer!
ReplyDeleteHazelnut? Chocolate? If it tastes anything like Nutella, I know I'm in trouble.
It tastes exactly like Nutella!
ReplyDelete