Into the sun at Marcia Adams’ Tuscany

(I come up with the lousiest titles of late :c)

If this post were a color, it would be yellow: 1) I’m pumping Ed Sheeran (the first time I fully listened to the guy) to my ears to match the milky-and-sunny sky that I was gaping at on my way to work; 2) Wee, dry leaves swirling and crashing against the windshield still outline magic in my eyes, which goes to say I haven’t been fully consumed by the lull-before-the-storm I’m in; 3) I seriously contemplated on whispering a calm expletive to the van driver beside me when he decided to switch off his radio (my relationship with ambient sounds still outweighs any technological advancement there is); 4) My yellow tumbler endures me; 5) I’m sipping chocolate from a yellow box through a yellow straw as I type these gabs instead of editing my colleagues’ output; 6) I need to get rid of “I,” (not my friend!) “me,” and “my” in my next posts; 7) MARCIA ADAMS’ TUSCANY in Tagaytay, Batangas.

Much like the country house-cum-restaurant was built based solely on the owner’s dream and imagination, setting foot in this Secret Garden-like seclusion (that’s redundant, right?) has been a forgotten yearning until “J” surprised me with an invitation to the place a weekend before his schedule began to become messed up. I think it escapes him that I really appreciate the occasions when he takes note of and acts on the littlest detail about me.

Word of mouth put the restaurant on the radar, mostly because of the Mediterranean ambiance and not the food. Since driving and directions are way too serious business for my liking, all I can share is that Marcia Adams’ Tuscany is situated a few meters from a welcome arch to the right of Aguinaldo Highway, past Residence Inn Zoo.

(L) Two-seater table by the backdoor with a cluster of fresh flowers, (R) Amalfi prawns

And so the kid in me began scurrying through and beneath plants, taking advantage of the lazy patches of light cast by the sun while “J” was delegated to surprise me with his food selection. Dining at Marcia Adams’ has a Php 700 consumable cover charge for a three-course meal, which still varies depending on your main course. You may also opt for a la carte meals.

The place has a lot of curiosities, like playing a game of hidden objects wherein small surprises pop in uncanny nooks and crannies. According to one blog, the place was mainly a garden converted by couple Marcia and Neil Adams into a restaurant to attract plant buyers. I was decidedly attracted to the differing tables placed where the sun can greet guests most conveniently.

(L) Soup of the day: Galician soup, (R) walkway to the main dining room

“J” fetched me from my meanderings when we were served with complimentary bread, with balsamic vinegar and olive oil. His appetizer was the GALICIAN SOUP, a light broth with ham, potatoes, and beans; while mine was the AMALFI PRAWNS, which were juicy and crisp with bread crumbs, seasoned with salt, pepper, olive oil, and served on thin wafer. I believe these were deveined but for some reason, my tongue got a little itchy and my breathing became a bit pressed. Nonetheless, I still ate them with full gusto because those plump prawns were begging for it.

(L) Hallway to the private dining area flanked by a shelf of bottled and woven products, (R) Italian rabbit casserole

I plead guilty to partaking in the monstrosity that “J” involved himself in. Furries are friends, not food! Brushing aside “homgitsocuteandfluffyimgonnadie” I nibbled a bit of the ITALIAN RABBIT CASSEROLE, a doomed fuzzball drenched in white wine and enhanced with olives, tomatoes and fresh herbs. Fortunately, or unfortunately, it tastes just like chicken. That ought to be good news, right? The spirit of a hearty eater seem to have fled “J” halfway through the dish. His face was of a tainted conscience after.

On a less morbid note, he chose the CHICKEN KEBAB for my no-pork preference. It consists of two sticks of meat marinated in cumin and homemade yogurt, which sadly did not convey that much to the taste buds. But the meat was succulent and tender, just right to the bite.

(L) Chicken kebab, (R) Display shelf by the window and couch

After minutes of my slow dance with the chicken kebab, our dessert PANNA COTTA WITH LEMON SAUCE was served. I was initially eyeing Banana Split with Chocolate Ice Cream (doused in special Nutella sauce and French liqueur) because anything infused with Nutella is a sin that you. just. have. to. give. in. But “J’s” choice did not fail to send my eyeballs rolling in a jouissance of zesty lemon and creamy gelatin. I’d stop in the middle of our chat just to acknowledge the full-flavored milk circling in my mouth.

(L) Porch from the private dining room, (R) Panna cotta with lemon sauce

The kitchen is accessible to guests through a glass window, where you can watch the staff and sometimes Marcia herself (we did not see her that day, though) prepare the dishes. Her staff are pleasant and attentive, but I’d really appreciate it if our attendant did not wait by the hallway that made talking quite uncomfortable. You may lounge around after dining, sit in the sun or wait for dusk to fall for a more rustic feel. Guests are advised to bring cash as the restaurant do not transact with credit and debit cards. Walk-in customers are, of course, welcome but reservation via cellphone is encouraged.

clockwise: embroidered pouch for the bill, teeny lovebirds perched on an unassuming pot, owl beanies slumped at the main dining area, sun-beamed couch

K’s RATINGS:

:O (gasp! that’s just horrible!)
:( (sappy and crappy)
:| (meh. next please!)
:) (yay! on your way to awesomeness!)
:D (expect more of me soon!)