The Cost of Traveling to Manila: Coffee in the Morning

When two or more travelers meet, "where are you from?" inevitably gets asked. I am from the Philippines. And I spend most of my time in Manila. Some people I've met traveling are fairly young (under 30) and have not had the opportunity to travel to my country. They know of the country mostly from the internet and TV or from Filipino migrants to their country. A good number expressed interest in one day traveling to the Philippines and often ask practical questions, including variations of "How much will it cost me?"

Being a charter member of the coffee-before-talkie club whether at home or while traveling, I don't want to have to think about where to get a good cup of coffee when I wake up in the morning. Or in the afternoon. So this is for those travellers for whom a morning cup is imperative.

Breakfast at Figaro

An 8 oz cup of brewed coffee………………………... ₱ 85      $1.94    €1.42

BLT Ciabatta……………………………………………  ₱189     $4.32    €3.17

Breakfast at Coffee Bean
Small cup of Today's Fresh Brew coffee……………. ₱105      $2.40    €1,76
Bagel with cream cheese……………………………    ₱135      $3.09    €2,26

Breakfast at a Starbucks

A tall cup of brewed coffee or cafe misto………….. ₱100     $2.29     €1.67

A pastry, like a blueberry scone………………………₱90       $2.06     €1.51

Of these three, Figaro is the only one that's a Filipino brand. Their branches are a bit harder to find than the other two though—a crying shame. By the way, they also serve some pretty delicious Filipino food items alongside their pastries and pasta. (I'll probably get around to writing about them in the future.) And of the three, they are the only one with free no-strings-attached wi-fi.

I recommended these places because they can be counted upon to serve decent brewed coffee. Sadly, the Philippines fulfills the criteria of a "shithole." Our government is corrupt, the roads are slow, and most tragic of all, the coffee is instant. (∼85% of the coffee grown in the country is Robusta, which is used for instant coffee.) Even in fairly decent food places, the coffee is likely to be instant. And while one may argue that one must eat like a local for one's wanderlust to be authentic, instant coffee is the gateway drug for food-like substances. Just don't!

Alhambra/The Constant Princess (1)

On the plane, I like to read fiction set in the location I'm going to. Fiction is in many ways more useful than a guidebook, because it gives you those little details, a sense of the way a place smells, an emotional sense of the place. So, I'll bring Graham Greene's The Quiet American if I'm going to Vietnam. It's good to feel romantic about a destination before you arrive.

Anthony Bourdain, US chef and travel host 

While there's a persistent stereotype of the geeky bookworm as some sort of homebody, some of the most joyful travelers I've met are also big fans of the written word. And it's not unusual that the question "What brings you here?" has an answer in the form of a title of a book. The combination of travel and fiction is particularly heady as wandering about satisfies the senses while the story gives the intellect a framework on which to build. Put the two together and they become synergistically satisfying. So today, to celebrate my first month as a blogger, I'd like to put together a double helping of happiness by combining two favorites: Spain and historical fiction.

Alhambra, from the Arabic al-hamra (the red), is named for its red walls.

Granada in the Andalusia province in the south of Spain has a rich and historic past. It is here that the Nasrids built the Alhambra, a palace of pools and gardens. King Boabdil eventually surrendered the palace to Isabel and Ferdinand.

The Constant Princess by Philippa Gregory is a novel that revolves around Catalina, the youngest daughter of Isabel and Ferdinand, Spain's Catholic Monarchs. The narrative begins during Catalina's childhood, when her parents ruled on horseback, and continues as  she sails to England to wed Arthur, Prince of Wales, and then eventually his brother Henry VIII. Compared to other novels by Philippa Gregory about the Plantagenets and the Tudors, this has received fairly little attention. (The Other Boleyn Girl was adapted into a Hollywood film starring Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johansson. The White Queen and two other novels about the Cousins' War, aka The War of the Roses, form the basis of a miniseries by Starz.) This is lamentable because of her novels that I've read, this one is the most descriptively lush. When Catalina and her family move into the Alhambra and again when she is homesick in Britain, descriptions of the beautiful rooms and gardens are woven into the narrative.

The Justice Gate, partially obscured by the a very tall tree. (Photo taken by an amateur. Lol!)

An excerpt from the novel reads:

"The Spanish family with their officers ahead and the royal guard behind, glorious as sultans, entered the fort through the enormous saquera tower known as the Justice Gate. As the shadow of the first arch of the tower fell on Isabella’s upturned face, the trumpeters played a great shout of defiance, like Joshua before the walls of Jericho, as if they would frighten away the lingering devils of the infidel. At once there was an echo to the blast of sound, a shuddering sigh, from everyone gathered inside the gateway, pressed back against the golden walls, the women half veiled in their robes, the men standing tall and proud and silent, watching, to see what the conquerors would do next. Catalina looked above the sea of heads and saw the flowing shapes of Arabic script engraved on the gleaming walls."

(To be continued.)

Starbucks Reserve: Finca Nuevo Mexico

Mere weeks after I was gifted with a cup of Ethiopia Yirgacheffe, I went to one of only two Starbucks Reserve stores in Metro Manila to find that no, they were no longer serving that. They had run out of stock and probably for good. So goodbye, fruity coffee! I shall definitely miss your cherry-berry vibe. 

This time I went for an American coffee, the Finca Nuevo Mexico. This is a coffee with a reputation that precedes it. It's been four years since I first heard of this arabica bean grown in the highest and driest part of Mexico by a Mexican family of German origins. This coffee is supposed to be "very very good," according to people whose raptures feature epithets like "ethically grown" and "sustainably farmed" but lack adjectives such as "delicious." I had some ideas how virtuous this coffee was but no idea if I would enjoy it.     

As your coffee drips, the Cofee Master tells you why it's so special.

Well, I guess this is why Starbucks have those leveled-up baristas called "Coffee Masters." After I've made my choice, the coffee master congratulated me on my choice and began supplying me with the details of the legend of Don Ricardo Baumann and his magically sustainable coffee beans while preparing the coffee. As soon as lime odor began wafting off the funnel, he began going more into the characteristics of the coffee itself and concluded by recommending that I get a chocolate- or citrus-based dessert to go with the coffee. (If you have the time and are so inclined, do get a cup at a Reserve store and let the CM show you the works. There's just enough ritual there to recall a tea ceremony but it's chatty and you're standing so you'd neither be bored nor cramped. The steps are as I had described previously here.)

I took my cup to one of the counter seats. Its opening taste was bright and, as promised, very citrusy. It reminded me more of calamansi or dayap than of oranges—acidic, indeed. It was light and crisp and almost clean, leaving only the merest taste of brown sugar. If I had it at home, I'd probably drink it with a nutty müesli steeping in orange juice. All in all, a good breakfast coffee.

Three of a Thing: Salted Caramel

[W]hen sugar, salt and fat are ramped up in combination with another, the foodstuff in question has an effect on the human brain rather like drugs. In a heady combination, they stimulate neurons, which release dopamine, the neurotransmitter associated with the pleasure centre, which in turn makes us want to eat more. There is an explosiveness to this combination that does get the pulse racing and the adrenaline flowing. Part of this is down to the immoderate intensity of the flavours: the combination is somehow so surprising, and yet so compelling.

Nigella Lawson, English  food critic

Salted caramel is presently the toast of popular tastemakers. Although there are few local sources of actual salted caramels, almost every food brand or store worth its salt (see what I did there?) is offering a salted caramel something or another. The appeal is not difficult to understand. As Nigella Lawson points out, the salted caramel is the trifecta of sugar, salt, and fat of which manic episodes are made.

Here, I am reviewing three salted caramel products. One of these does contain an actual salted caramel. Two of these live up to the promise of the trifecta of tastes. All three of these are consumer products. These three are:

Clockwise: (1) Dark chocolate-covered salted caramel from Candy Corner, (2) Salted caramel gelato with candied pecans from Bigoli, (3) Starbucks salted caramel hot cocoa

Dark chocolate covered salted caramel from Candy Corner
Short version: dark chocolate, good. Caramel, good, Sea salt, not the sexy flaky kind but good enough. 

TL;DR version  That Candy Corner is carrying loads more dark chocolate-covered goodies is excellent news. Lately I've found myself loading up on goodies for a movie, knotting up the leftovers and carrying them in my purse in case of dementor attack because in this function, these babies truly deliver. In the throes of sudden hopelessness, a bite into one of these delivers a punch of bittersweet and then a burst of salty that smears the tongue, inner cheeks and palate with velvet. In ennui, letting one melt in your mouth gives the successive caresses of the bittersweet then the smoky buttersweet followed by a momentary salty flick, one that tells you to get on your feet and be gone from this abject place. If you are at any risk of exposure to the sort of misery that sticks to your clothes and clogs your pores, do keep these in your person at all times.

My one complaint with Candy Corner is that they do on occasion give a homogeneous bag. In last the 200-gram bag of supposedly all dark chocolate covered salted caramels I got, there were a few stray pieces of almond, espresso bean, raisin, and strawberry—all also covered in dark chocolate and all stuff that I might also order but I had wanted a bag of salted caramels, not some motley collection of pirates' pieces of eight. Perhaps a bit more care to prevent such inadvertent mixing?

Salted caramel gelato with candied pecans from Ristorante Bigoli
Salted caramel in ice cream form is no longer the novel treat it used to be. For the most part, however, companies just dress up their vanilla ice cream with ribbons of caramel sauce and throw in a few spare bath salt crystals. (No, Nestle and McDonald's! I'm not gonna name names!) Not so with Ristorante Bigoli. The ice cream base is sweet and smoky and luscious, somewhere between a spectacularly buttery caramelo and a dulce de leche. Even the mouthfeel is gorgeous. No sharp icicles here. Only the occasional surprise of flaky salt. 

By itself, the gelato was very good but adding the candied pecans made it memorable. With the pecans, it was no longer just a premium version of a popular ice cream flavor. It was suddenly a dessert to hang a memory on, the way one would hang a memory on pie one had at Grandma's.

Salted caramel chocolate drink from Starbucks
Starbucks first offered their salted caramel hot chocolates for the fall season years ago. Now that they are placing their products in every grocery, they are also hawking a hot cocoa mix that promises to replicate that experience in the relative safety of one's home and at any season. All you need to add is 8 oz of hot milk per packet.

I followed their instructions for the hot chocolate to the letter and, well, it's fine. Chocolatey, sweet, milky. Close enough to the Signature Hot Chocolate you can get at their store, I guess. But then again, I was never a fan. 

The box clearly promises caramel and sea salt and I suppose if you wish hard enough you could conjure a smokiness at the tip of your tongue. The milk fat (because you did not cheat the recipe by using skim!) might even recall the richness of butter in a real salted caramel. Or you could just admit it's more marshmallow than caramel. There is the slightest hint of salt at the end of each swallow, just noticeable if you were looking for it.

What is perfectly noticeable, however, are the hard white bits of opaque sugar that sink to the bottom of the cup and are resistant to solution with 75˚C water. They yielded only after I dragged them up the sides of the mug and crushed them with the back of a coffeespoon. 

The box also has instructions for a caffe mocha. The barely-there caramel taste is nearly lost in the coffee—I used dark-roasted arábica from Figaro, a local coffee chain, prepared in a Bialetti. Still pretty good but I probably could have gotten similar results with just a regular hot cocoa mix, like the dark chocolate one from Swiss Miss. 

Allow me to say again that is not a bad product. In fact, it is a pretty good hot chocolate. It just doesn't deliver on being a salted caramel.


For sure there are salted caramel products out there. Some will be better than these three, some will be worse. Any recommendations?

Slashed!

On a recent trip to Binondo (aka Manila's Chinatown), this happened to one of my favorite bags:

I'm finding it hard to give this bag up. I used it nearly everyday for over a year and it never failed me. I loved it inside and out. I loved the two straps that gave me the option to carry it on my shoulder or cross-body. I loved the large hoops that accommodated all my various carabiners. I loved the dark blue textured cloth that always looked plush despite the hard use. I loved the purple inside lining with the one zippered pocket opposite another two unevenly sized unzipped ones. It held all my things and, in a way, kept my secrets. 

To the very end, it was loyal. Despite the gaping slash it suffered on the outside, less that 2 cm of the inner lining was cut and nothing of mine was stolen. Much of cutpurse's brute force must have spent itself on the felt that helped the bag keep its shape. Inspecting the cut, I can imagine the care and craftsmanship the good people at Coach put into the bag—
neatly trimmed edges and evenly stitched hems even in the parts unseen. They put their own brand of love into this bag too.  

So goodbye, dear friend. We've had some good times, you and I.

Starbucks Reserve: Zambia Peaberry Terranova Estate

Mere weeks after I was gifted with a cup of Ethiopia Yirgacheffe, I went to one of only two Starbucks Reserve stores in Metro Manila to find that no, they were no longer serving that. They had run out of stock and probably for good. So goodbye, fruity coffee! I shall definitely miss your cherry-berry vibe. 

I consoled myself with a cup of the Zambia Peaberry Terranova Estate, which the barista informed me would have apple and vanilla notes. The good thing about getting your cup of coffee at the store is how the barista, oops!, "coffee master" basically puts on a show for you while pouring your cup. All while extolling the wonderful virtues of this coffee, the CM fitted the ceramic funnel with a filter, wet it with steaming hot water, measured out the ground coffee beans, and poured even more steaming hot water. The funnel was suspended above the ceramic cup by black wooden frame and you can see the coffee slowly dripping out, forming a beautiful dark pool. I don't know whether being dripped from a height makes much of a difference in the taste of the coffee but the smell wafting off the the steaming funnel and the cup nudged me towards the desserts. Apple and vanilla you say? Truly.

Hot water passes through the ground coffee beans and filter and drips down to the cup below. 

This coffee was really good. While I usually go for the darker Italian and French roasts, this was a very enjoyable, somewhat acidic medium roast. I think it might make a great Flat White. But with no properly prepped full cream milk on hand, I just had mine plain old black.

Apple scone the size of a fist.

To go with my black coffee, I had the apple scone—a choice which the CM approved. Buttery biscuit that's a bit on the sweet side mixed with apples baked in cinnamon and sugar. Basically, this is apple pie for people who enjoy the crust more than the filling. Like the CM said, it went very well with the coffee.   

Here's to the Zambia Peaberry. Do get it while you can. 

Coloane and the First Lord Stow's

I once wrote about Margaret's egg tarts here. Now I want to talk about their arch rival, Lord Stow's.

There are Lord Stow branches all over the world including several stores right here in Metro Manila, where I live, but this is a proudly Macanese brand (although Andrew Stow himself was an Englishman) and I felt I owed it to myself to see "where it all began." I can say I fancy myself a food historian but really, I'd make up any excuse to indulge in egg tarts.

From the bus stop near Holiday Inn in Rua de Pequim, I made my way down Avenida de Lisboa to Praca Ferreira Amaral where I got on the 25 to Hac Sa. The bus ride itself was a mere 30 or so minutes and took me farther and farther away from the area deemed the most populous on Earth to the comparatively desolate Coloane. Along the way, I got to see a lot of the bay, with waters brown with algae. The bus even passes by the Venetian, which deserves its own writeup. I got off at the bus stop at the Estrada de Cheoc Van and walked along the Eanes Park. 

This tiny spot of Coloane is host to three different Lord Stow shops. The earliest to open is their bakery at #1 Rua do Tassara, the first ever Lord Stow which opened in September 1989 and everyday thereafter at 7am. There's a small café in Largo do Matadouro which opens at 10 and the garden café at Rua do Cordoaria opens at 10.30.

A Filipina baker pouring custard into the pastry at Lord Stow's in Coloane, Macau

I was already waiting outside the bakery door a few minutes before it opened. The baker, as luck would have it, is a very friendly Filipina. Even hard at work behind her counter pouring the custard into the puff pastry, she gave me a smile and a bright "Good morning!"

This egg tart is from the first batch they baked that day. I figured one egg tart would sustain me until the Garden Café opened. (Of course, I was wrong.) After grabbing my tart, I spent the next few hours wandering the Avenida de Cinco de Outobro and the narrow lanes that wind all over the pretty little village. There's a cozy small-town feel to the place—none of the frenetic casino-crazed energy often associated with Macau. I found myself a spot in the Portuguese pavemented square in front of the Chapel of Saint Francis and read a book while enjoying my first egg tart. 

To be perfectly honest, in a blind taste test, I don't think I could tell the difference between an egg tart from Lord Stow and one from Margaret's. There's the same flaky buttery crust and delicious creamy custard with a caramel top. Yum!

I made my way back to the village center on foot. There was already a crowd outside the bakery, an admixture of locals and tourists buying cookies, cheesecakes, and egg tarts by the box so I made my way to the café at Matadouro. It was also packed. Still, I managed to grab another tart while I snooped on the other clients. Compared to Margaret's clientele, I'd say Lord Stow's has a greater proportion of tourists.

Coffee and egg tart. Nope, I didn't need the fork nor the knife for the egg tart.

Of course, by the time I sat down at the Garden Café, I had had two egg tarts. So I ordered another egg tart and some brewed coffee--for while I waited for the sandwich. I love their coffee. They brew a very strong and aromatic arabica bean, which they serve in a white ceramic pot with sugar and thimble of full cream milk on the side. While this is not the rich espresso or bica you'd get from an Italian- or Portuguese-style coffee shop, it was a fitting complement to the egg tart and one of the better cups of coffee I had in Macau.

The service was prompt and very friendly. Like the nice baker I met earlier, the host and the waiter were also Filipinos. They were very courteous not just to me, their fellow Filipino, but to the other clients there as well. My waiter was serving a couple of tourists at a nearby table who were having trouble understanding their map. Upon serving them their drinks, he helped them figure out the map and threw in a few landmarks to help them locate their destination. Should I ever join the Amazing Race, I hope I can count on such friendly help.

If one can have a perfectly decent egg tart in the middle of Macau at Margaret's, why would one bother to go to Coloane? I would say for Coloane itself. And the very friendly service.

Travel Gear: Coach Signature Nylon Weekender Overnight Tote

Months into 2014 and I'm with neither driver's license nor passport. (Sad but true. And a long story.) How dare I presume to call myself a traveler?

I had been cooped up, my effective radius not even 10 km for months, most of that time spent in the seediest, most wretched place in the metropolis.  Wonderful for my carbon footprint but a truly terrible idea.

But a wise woman told me that it's over now. Gotta shake out the bad juju, get my documents in order, and obey my wanderlust. She even threw in some travel gear, for good measure. (Did I tell you she was generous as well as wise?)

Lovely green color, a trifle livelier than my usual colors. Nice water repellant nylon to keep a few toiletries and prescriptions safe. Would fit nicely in my purse. 

Flip it over and curious, curious! What are those snappy looking things?

And what is that inside?

 A lovely weekend tote!

 The lining is there plus two other snappy things to which the purse snaps into place.

Approximately 21" x 11" x 7" with 10" drop handles



Disappointed at Lai Kei

It was the height of summer and everyone kept telling me to treat myself to some ice cream at Lai Kei Ice Cream. So I hopped on a bus and made my way to the ice cream parlor and did as advised.

And I did not get what the fuss was about.

Lai Kei Ice Cream Shoppe
12 Avenida Conselheiro Ferreira de Almeida

Pasalubong and Travel Swag

Pasalubong is the Filipino tradition of bringing home gifts from one's travels. They're not expected to be terrible fancy. Very often, food that you can share while you recap stories and show off your pictures and videos is enough. Little souvenir trinkets like key chains, refrigerator magnets, shot glasses, T-shirts, and tote bags are nice if you can afford it. As a child, I often got loose change, small bills, postcards, and postage stamps although I don't know too many young 'uns now interested in such. Besides, the last time I gave small change to a child, the mother freaked. At what age can you trust children not to swallow the damn things, anyway? 

Sometimes you don't even actually have to buy anything to give someone pasalubong. My Ate Susan had worked abroad as a domestic helper before she worked for my family and has her own collection of international tourist kitsch. While she cheerfully accepts the tote bags, key chains and nail clippers, she more often than not regifts them to her family in the province. Since she is a small pudgy woman, baby tees are the right length but the wrong width on her. Larger ones fit her round quite well but might as well be nightshirts for their length. When I try to give her something a little more expensive, she thinks her alaga is kawawa and should learn to save more of her small income. Apart from food, the only gifts she truly accepts with genuine gusto and no guilt are the airline amenity kits and the hotel toiletries and stationery. So I stash the stuff. On the flight in. Every day at the hotel so they'd refill. On the flight out. And when I present her with all the swag I've swiped, she squeals happily. She may even be persuaded to accept a small touristy tote to hold all her stash.

And she is not alone apparently. There is a market now for such items online like in eBay for example.

What can I say. The woman is ahead of her time.

Muthu's Curry: Meant for Sharing

After the hawker fare of Lau Pa Sat and dimsum at the various Crystal Jade branches in the previous days, I made my way to Little India. I gawked at the potbellied pantheon at Sri Veeramakaliamman Temple, shopped at Mustafa Center and then peeked at Naranjan to see how much I'd been fleeced for the electronics. After all that, it was a little past lunch hour and I knew I deserved a great meal.

Hat on my head, sunglasses covering my face and shopping bags hanging off my forearms, I made my way to Race Course Road to see where it all began. It being Fish Head Curry, a dish reputedly concocted in Singapore. Where being Muthu's Curry, a restaurant operated by the child of the genius who first made the dish.   

The most of the lunch crowd was already getting up and leaving, a good number of them local. Most were rubbing their bellies and happily clutching takeaway bags. Excellent signs. 

A kindly whippet-thin East Indian man introduced himself as my waiter, and helped me with my bags. He found me a table near the middle of the restaurant, away from the direct tropical sunshine and close enough to the airconditioner without risking a cold draft. I told him I came for the fish head curry. He proudly told me that yes, this place had made the first ever fish head curry and that people still came here for exactly that. He also warned me that people often found it very spicy which is why he recommended the mango lassi. 

Fish head curry, papadums, rice, and mango lassi.

Outside, it was hot and humid. Hell, it was Singapore. I asked for water hand if they could please fast track my mango lassi. A quick polite nod and a glass of very cold water with four ice cubes materialized followed two minutes later by my mango lassi, a shake of ripe mango, milk and yoghurt. So far, so perfect.

I was still enjoying my first glass of mango lassi when the waiter came bearing a big bowl of the curry, papadums, and rice. He explained that their food was meant for sharing and to be eaten by hand although he did bring me silverware, which I gladly accepted. He then laid a banana leaf in front of me and fixed my food on it like so: 

The fish head, rice topped with curry, and lots of okra. No one would be offended if you ask for  spoon and fork. 

(Like Filipinos, the Malays and East Indians of Singapore have a tradition of eating with their fingers. That said, they would not be offended if you asked for silverware, which would be the spoon and the fork. For this fish curry, trust me, you won't be needing a knife.) 

The curry broth was red and gold and very very fragrant. There was that curry heat which melts away to some ginger flavors before leaving a sweet herby finish. And the fish heads! The flesh, especially the cheeks, were perfect juicy morsels brightened up by the curry. In polite company, I would have been obligated to share the eyes which were absolutely fantastic. Pop one in your mouth to enjoy a tiny bead of curried gelatin which melts in your tongue to an almost sweet briny goo. Then do it again with the other eye. Advantage: the Solitary Traveler.

(An American-born friend finds my obvious enjoyment of fish heads disgusting. My rapture at eating eyes is incomprehensible. I'm just glad no one is watching while I spit the hard whites of the eyes into a napkin when I'm done.)

The papadums were crisp and toasted just right. I dipped some in the curry broth and they were sensational but I'm hopelessly devoted to rice. The rice and curry combination just cheered me up. Glorious!

I have an indifference-hate relationship with okra. In most dishes, I don't mind it. When it's slimy, I avoid it. Okra in curry is fine. There's little of the off-putting sliminess and seeds actually tasted green and very fresh and contrasted nicely with the curry itself. I suppose the heat also made my mouth numb to the okra's hairy flesh.

I got through about quarter or third of the delicious curry and was on half of my second lassi when I knew I'd had enough. Enough for now, anyway. I called my kind waiter and asked for the check. All that extra food he also took away and placed in a takeway bag while I sipped the last of my mango lassi. 

Before I left, the kindly waiter gave me another glass of water ("It's still very hot outside outside.") which I gratefully accepted. He even helped me carry by bags to the door.

At the hotel later that evening, I had a little bit more of the curry with a bottle of very cold Coca-cola. My kindly waiter thoughtfully included two pairs of spoons and forks and paper plates but I still had no one to share the curry with. The curry flavors now completely permeated the flesh of the fish. The papadums were no longer as crisp but were still quite good. I ate a good quantity but there was still a lot more of the curry.

 I was re-wrapping the curry when a lady on turn-down duty knocked. "Curry?" she smiled, when I let her in.

"Fish," I nodded as I placed them back inside the bag. "From Muthu's at Little India. There's still one or two more portions, I think." I offered her the bag

She gave me another bright smile and accepted the food. I'd like to think she had it for dinner and maybe shared it with a co-worker or her family. Like my kindly waiter said, the food was meant to be shared. 

Pania, the Mermaid of Napier Part II

Happy anniversary, Pania! You've had quite an interesting 60 years. 

For more Pania pictures and a rendition of a Maori song by Lesley Gail Russel

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MJ7BrN6h8Ec

Macarons and Coffee at Nomnomnom

Yes, I was harsh on Nomnomnom the last time I wrote about them here. But understand that it was only because I had many good meals there back in the day. And good desserts. Like their macarons which they served with a cup of coffee.

A trió of macarons and a cup of coffee

Too good to share.

Cronut at Café UK

The search for wi-fi led us to a 24 hour cafe predictably filled with students armed with fluorescent markers assaulting books and reams of lecture notes. Not surprising since we were hooting distance from the University of Santo Tomas.

The cronut at Café UK

Apart from some forgettable coffee, I had a cronut--my first cronut. As someone attracted to portmanteaus the way other women are attracted to babies, I should have had fun with it. But there was just something sad about the fried and sugared layers of puff pastry sitting on whipped cream and ringed with banana bits bravely resistant to browning sitting next to apple slices slathered with whipped cream and chocolate syrup. Cute, but not for me?

Weeks later I barely remember what it tasted like yet remain steadfast in resisting further offers of the cronut.


Café UK
Barlin corner Noval Streets
Sampaloc, Manila 
₱200-500

Scones. Scones. Let's call the whole thing off

OK. So Ira and George Gershwin did not write about it and Ella Fitzgerald did not bother to sing about it. Perhaps it wasn't quite their level.

Which is why I profusely thank the universe for Matt Edmonson. (And Sophie Turner.) Because it is his level apparently. Check out the whole video here, which sadly, is no longer available for download from the BBC site as of this writing.

Sophie Turner and Matt Edmonson rapping about scones

"Sometimes I get frustrated and I need to have a moan. I think you'll find it's called /ˈskɒn/ and not a flipping /ˈskoʊn/."

Which reminds me, I should write on scones soon. As soon as I tear myself from playing back the "Hodor Hodor Hodor!" section one more time.

Nomnomnom and the Accidentally Virgin Mojito

Nomnomnom Happy Food moved to this building in Scout Madriñan and Tomas Morato from their E. Rodriguez location almost a year ago. It's a newer and prettier building. The one before had an aura of neglect worthy of Miss Havisham and the comfort rooms had a seedy abortion clinic vibe.

Pos Building, Scout Madriñan corner Morato, Quezon City

The store itself has changed too. The interiors are a bit more polished. Photos in blue wooden frames hang on one wall. Another features découpage that transforms a pillar into the trunk of a tree complete with two birdhouses. From across the room it looks like wallpaper but a closer look reveals it is made of yellowing pages torn from books.  And the air was colder thanks to two split-type units. Or the fact that we were the only guests they had.

Découpage, yes. Torn books, no.

Apart from the staff, no one was there when we walked in. At the old place, I had never once walked into a deserted Nomnom at dinnertime. Bad sign. Also, they did not serve the vegetarian calzones anymore. I settled for the tinapasta instead. I was happy with the pesto itself but the penne was a trifle overcooked. 

The tinapasta at Nomnomnom

I was glad to still see the macarons on the menu but as my mouth was still permeated with the pesto, I decided to pass up on dessert. My dinner companion, however, decided on a liquid dessert in the form of a mojito. The waitress helpfully informed us they also served mojitos in pitchers amounting to 3-4 glasses but, since I was abstaining, she got the single serving which looked like this:

Nomnomnom's actual mojito. Compare this to the mojito they promoted on Facebook in 21 April

After the first sip, she said she could not taste any of the rum so she asked if they could add just a little bit more. She handed her glass to the waitress who took it to the kitchen. She came back with the same glass and said that half a jigger of rum (about 0.75 oz) was already in the drink to which my friend said, "But I don't taste any rum, just a whole lot of minty Sprite." She again took the drink back to the kitchen and told us that they had added more rum to the drink. Again, my friend said she still could not detect any discernible increase in rum. More to-ing and fro-ing until I suggested she just abandon the mojito. My friend told the waitress she was returning the drink. More to-ing and fro-ing until the poor waitress sheepishly came back and said the kitchen did not have enough rum to fix her another mojito. 

"So what were you going to put in the pitcher of mojitos you told us about if we had ordered that?,¨ I finally asked. More sheepish smiling. It was exasperating. "Couldn't you just go to 7-11 and buy rum?"

Well, eventually, someone did go out and buy rum. The place was in Morato afterall, where liquor abounded. They fixed the drink, putting in an amount of alcohol which if popular mojito recipes are to be followed contain 1.5 oz of white rum.

I don't think this experience made me happy. But I know it did make me nostalgic about the old place.

Yes, we do have Starbucks in Manila. No, we do not have the Flat White.

When two or more travelers meet, "where are you from?" inevitably gets asked. I am from the Philippines. And I spend most of my time in Manila. Some people I've met traveling are fairly young (under 30) and have not had the opportunity to travel to my country. They know of the country mostly from the internet and TV or from Filipino migrants to their country. A good number expressed interest in one day traveling to the Philippines. They often ask practical questions related to traveling here and while I have often tried to give helpful answers, I have also found myself wishing for a do-over.

One such do-over involves the coffee chain Starbucks.

In Bangkok, I met a self-described coffee snob who went to uni in Washington State. For our purposes now, let's call him Adam. On long trips abroad, Adam would seek refuge in a Starbucks whenever he felt lonely or homesick which he himself found funny because he did not really go to Starbucks back home. For added cheekiness, he was considering starting his collection of Starbucks city mugs which would not include the city of Seattle. 

Adam: Do you have Starbucks there?
Me:      Yeah. (Laconic + Precise. Perfect)
Adam: Lots?
Me:      Yeah. (And again.)
Adam: Cool.

At another Starbucks in New Zealand, while getting a Flat White, a barista whom we'll call Bryan, was trying to sell me breakfast. 

Bryan: What do they sell at the Starbucks there?

Me:      Coffee. 

Bryan: I would not have guessed. *rolls eyes* Like for breakfast. I thought Filipinos were big eaters.

Me:     Sandwiches. Waffles. A lot of the same pastries here. Nothing very Filipino… No flat whites either.

So, yes. We do have Starbucks in the Philippines and, now, two Reserve branches even. The selection is similar to pretty much every other Starbucks elsewhere but unlike in the UK, Australia, and New Zealand, they don't make the Flat White. A lot of branches open very early and close very late. A handful are even open 24 hours. And yeah, they sell merchandise, including those city mugs. Wi-Fi isn't free unlike at other coffee chains.

A tall cup of Zambia Peaberry Terranova and an apple cinnamon scone cost a total of less than six US dollars in the Philippines.

By international Starbucks standards, the coffee and food here are cheap. A tall cup of brewed coffee or caffe misto is only ₱100 (US$ 2.28, € 1.68) and a fist-sized scone is ₱90 (US$ 2.05, € 1.51). Even the Reserve ones are cheaper. The Finca Nuevo Mexico starts at only ₱140 (US$ 3.20, € 2.35) while the Zambia Peaberry Terranova Estate starts at only ₱150 (US$ 3.42, € 2.51). (Disclaimer: US dollar and Euro equivalents are according to Google, which does not guarantee the accuracy of the conversion.) So the sweet tooth's breakfast above which I actually had late one afternoon costs ₱240 (US$ 5.48, € 4.02). 

For travelers wanting to stretch their budget, the Philippines is a pretty awesome place to visit. You can definitely carbo-load and caffeinate here without blowing your budget.

Oberyn: The Well-Traveled Prince

When I first read The Song of Ice and Fire, Oberyn was an immediate favorite. I love the fact that he trained to be a maester, though he left without completing his studies, and how he is devoted to his daughters and to the memory of his sister. Most of all, I love that he is well-travelled.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cudxwhDO0gQ

His little exchange with Varys at the throne room was glorious. He says he travels because "It is a big and beautiful world. Most of us live and die in the same corner we were born and never get to see any of it. I don't want to be most of us."

So, yeah, can't wait for my favorite prince of Dorne school the Seven Kingdoms on the meaning of badass. And the Kobayashi Maru.