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

Lost to, lost in Cafe Kapitan

Greetings from the underworld!

As is evident, “I” has been the only one breathing life into this blog from time to time (law school and a wee fraction of her attention goes to helping rehabilitate my mangled writing ego). Yes, years have passed and that self-limitation still holds me by the collar. I try to shake loose, you see; so I go around, see and try things thinking that by putting myself out there, I might regain what was lost to me. But one crucial act that I have not been keen to commit to is to sit down with self-discipline.

With small steps, I clamber out of the abyss, yet again endeavoring to woo the muse that has eluded me for my complacence.

I am eyeing Marikina as an inspiration to an idea that I intend to birth in time. Since my boyfriend “J” and I were meeting last Saturday with no clear destination, I suggested that we explore the city’s food haunts and take an insight or two. After an exemplary display of my direction noob-ility that took a good half of our day, we managed to find the J.P. Rizal Street of Marikina.

Tucked in a small street across the Our Lady of the Abandoned Church (which locals refer to as “OLA”), CAFE KAPITAN is a two-story heritage house that consists of adobe walls, capis windows, glass-paneled doors, wooden frame and furniture. The ceiling of the main dining room is adorned with orbs of light cupped by paelleras or pans used to cook the famed Spanish dish, paella. I am a sucker for old houses and this, without a fail, popped my eyes with utter wonder.

Bar in front of the kitchen entrance and beside the door to the Music Room

Casual at Sancho’s.

Hi —

It’s been months and we’re sorry. Life has taken hold again. Moving forward, a lot of things has happened to both K and I. First off, I’m still trying to convince her to let go of her obsessive-compulsiveness and just write (maybe I could start a poll and you guys can help me with that). Second, I gained a sis-in-law and an adorable new niece. Third, K now has some romance in her life. (Ya, she’s basically left me in the world of NBSB–for those of you who are not Filipino or basically strangers to the colloquial term, it’s means “no boyfriend since birth”–a term coined by Chick Lit writer Claire Betita). And last, I’m still stuck in the crazy, crazy world of law school. We’re on break right now so I’m grabbing this chance to blog again. Forgive me, I’m rusty.

Doing two of our favorite things–eating and pigging out–oh, that’s just one thing haha, K and I chatted over Spanish food at Sancho’s. (If we’re being technical, I’d say more Filipino with Spanish influence.) If you either remember our previous post or have been to BRGR: The Burger Project, then you would have an idea as to where Sancho Churreria Manila is located. Establishing itself as one of the more known restaurants in the Maginhawa foodie strip, Sancho is a small, casual dining place offering your traditional pasta, churros and other Spanish meals. 

So travel.

We’ve been suffering from quite a hiatus lately. K and I have unfortunately been busy with so many things in our lives. But the prospect of eating good food, reading inspiring novels, watching amazing shows and meeting new friends on roads less traveled has never wavered in our minds.

I just wanted to share this Henry Rollins note I saw in my personal Facebook feed. It was posted by Bogart the Explorer from Davao City. What can I say? I couldn’t agree more. Life is good :)

(Inkdependent does not claim any ownership over the photo used in this post. The image belongs to its respective copyright owners and was used only for illustration purposes.)

What to do in Metro Manila #1

Summer vacation has only recently started and I’m already a bit bored at home. Methinks I have the attention span (and on some occasions, short-term memory) of Dory. So here’s me trying to perk things up by exploring and writing about some of the more interesting places to go to in the Greater Manila Area. Try these out for yourselves and maybe you can recommend some things to do for K and I while you’re at it :)

#1. Play with giant chess pieces in Pan de Amerikana, Marikina.

Weeeeeeell….okaaay, I don’t really know how to play but that shouldn’t hinder either you or me from toying around with the restaurant’s famous life-sized–for kids, at least–chess set. This should give you plenty of room to re-imagine the Wizard’s Chess scene in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.

Take Your Pick at Burger Project

You know it’s the start of summer vacation when people are obsessing over the most random things and posting their pictures and by-the-hour by-the-minute Facebook updates over them.  (Shout out to the Magnum and Simsimi craze taking over Manila…I still don’t get it, please enlighten me.)

My summer has been pretty mellow so far. Just going back to my daily–minus the stress–routine by running errands, getting my TV doses, attending my special brother’s Moving Up ceremony and finally hanging out with K. While I’m dying to go to the beach (and that’s saying something since I’m not a “beach person”) and just about anywhere outside the congested and polluted city, it was really nice to sit down and talk to a close friend over scrumptious burgers and a shake.

We drove over to BRGR: The Burger Project, a foodie joint in Maginhawa St., Quezon City, which opened around July 2010. We were actually headed to Pino Resto Bar–but I figured since we were already in the area, we might as well try the famous burgers I’ve been hearing quite a few raves on.

Notes and all at Press Cafe.

I’ve been hoping to get the chance to blog again. Things have been crazy at school, with my midterm exams ending just several of weeks ago and classes starting immediately the day after. I know it’s already been several weeks since but I’m still having staring contests with the piles of  cases and books sitting on my table. With barely enough time to do anything else, I was pleased to find a place blog-worthy enough to review just a couple of weeks before  midterms. I wanted to find a happy compromise between my life as a law student and as a blogger/freelancer and create a new category for people who, like me, just want a quiet, little nook to catch up on their backlogs.

So with my books and Credit Transactions reviewer in tow, I persuaded a blockmate into venturing into the deepest, darkest and farthest corner of…Power Plant Mall (we nerds don’t get around much haha!) in hopes of discovering a new studying spot in the newly-renovated Press Cafe. An old friend had recommended the place. I guess the lure was in the books.

Hot off the press! Press Cafe’s food selection and a scrumptious display of pastries.

Tadaima! Konbini Store Tokyo Market

Since leading this sedentary lifestyle, it is but suicide not to (be compelled to) develop a certain fondness for walking — long walks to and from the office (when not late); tiresome walks up, across, down the third story of the MRT station; brisk walks from the subdivision entrance to our house (while watching the sparse clouds scatter on a clear afternoon sky). Some good way of tricking the brain that you still manage to stay fit: burn some calories, save some peso and a percent or so from risk of cardiac arrest.

After Happy Lemon and a considerable amount spent on cheap finds at Greenhills last August 11, home was the next destination until my officemate’s reminder rang in this often forgetful mind: “Check out KONBINI (read as kom–bi–ni, short for “convenience store” in Nihonggo) along Connecticut Street.”

Already headed for the terminal, I retraced my steps and asked for directions since my officemate told me that it is just a good walking distance from the shopping center. The first security guard gave a rather confused instruction leading to an obscured street beside the fire station. The second security guard told me to find Max’s Restaurant and turn to the street beside it. The thought of hailing a cab never occurred to me as it often defeats the experience of the journey (unless you are running  out of time to meet with someone). The shopping center’s gate stood adjacent to a wide street; the right side seemed to exit to Ortigas Extension so I decided to take the left side where huge Fitness First signage abound.

Sneaky cellphone shot #1: Konbini’s dining area where you slurp your ramen!

Happy Lemon, a lemon or not?

Having a date with one’s self is never really lonesome, save for the occasions when you badly miss your friends but their schedules clash with yours, or they could really come in handy when you spot an obnoxious or a dashing stranger! Contrary to what most people think and say, riding the train alone to some random destination or occupying an entire table with nobody but yourself has a therapeutic calm. For one, you get to see things, people, curiosities that you never get to notice when you have a companion. The world presents itself to you encased in a snow globe — its beauty at your disposal. Hence, people who think that you seem sad when alone are far more pitiful for their fear of being caught with just themselves. It may take them a lifetime to figure out and admit that ” If you are lonely when you’re alone, you are in bad company.” Jean Paul Sartre could not be faulted for having said that.

My “self-explorations” include returning to Greenhills after one year.

This was prompted by the experience of two officemates who often refer to it as the “unHAPPY LEMON” incident in June. If memory serves me right, they ordered COCOA WITH ROCK SALT AND CHEESE (P90, regular / P100, large) and CRISPY COCOA MATCHA WITH BROWN SUGAR JELLY (P90, regular / P100, large or hot). As the menu suggests, these two drinks are “recommended,” but my two officemates tasted otherwise. The letdown seems to haunt them from time to time, so I thought I should try one for myself. They would recount how the drinks greeted their taste buds with a confused mélange of flavors. These were their words: “Hindi in-adjust sa Filipino taste.”

Now, that got me nonplussed. Happy Lemon traces its origin in Hong Kong in 2006, and has spread to 100 stores in the Pacific. While food ought to be enjoyed by the market it targets, authenticity (especially in taste) ought not to be sacrificed. You would not go and try something new if you expect a familiar treat, right? Then again, [appreciation of] food is relative; besides, those two flavors are just minute of the wide array of drinks that Happy Lemon has to offer. Factors like mood, disposition, palate preference, smokers, teenagers who drawl when they talk in slanted accents, weather, varying preparation, etc., must have contributed to their unsatisfactory experience. See, food IS relative.

Happy Lemon teeming with people.

Dilly-dallying at Dali, a.k.a. Bad pun on a beginner’s review of a beginning food spot

Days since the 2nd of June had been a constant staring contest with a queerly moustached man. His pointed brows twitch at my direction every time I look up at his tarpaulin, hinting—more of mortifying—me to come around his place and take a sip at the bloody cocktail sitting beneath his portrait. I thought, ‘Well of course, good sir, I shall find time to visit soon.’ With the address in mind, I scrammed off to our office.

Finding a suitable companion was just as difficult as securing the day to visit, what I imagined to be, the dimly lit abode of the twitchy moustached man. And it is always sorry to try novelties with a disinterested or incapable soul. Until my good friend “I” sought for a get-together lunch on June 18 to breathe from law school.

Armed with the street names and a vague imagination of the place, I and “I” took a good walk until we found ourselves at an intersection. Across stood a manor-like establishment, mostly made of wood and glass. I was unsure whether or not the place was already open until a security guard went to the door and ushered us in. Inside the double wooden door (which brings to mind vineyard manors) was a pair of glass doors where a courteous attendant rushed to greet us.

Long table for groups, with a view of the bar and the kitchen.