Foam, a culinary necessity?

I'm getting intrigued these days by the extensive use of foams, or froth, in the contemporary fine dining servings. Be it consomme or sauces that have been steamed under high pressure, or whipped under extreme speeds to create light, airy foams to become complementary decor of dishes; from appetizers to mains, from amuse bouche to desserts. Albeit the non-palatable, salivary looking texture of this new culinary member, foam, many chefs have delightfully added it in their presentations of dishes like a new found beauty awaiting to be introduced to the wooers. I'm skeptical over the additional pleasure, if any, that the foamy texture plays in your palate. OK, it's not about practicality but an art of presentation which you may argue. So, you are saying that it gratifies the eyes to see a plate of artful concoction of lobster bisque with a glob of bubbled saliva, oh I mean foam, and upon the suggestion of the maitre'd to mix them together before sending a mouthful for your first taste. I wonder if it indeed whets your appetite upon its sight, or it does magic to improve the quality of the dish, you know what I mean. And please, don't you dare caress that nauseatic foam in your mouth before me, it triggers reflexive hiccups.


As a food lover, I am obstinate enough not to toy my stomach like a food incubator and glutton all edibles with no baseline for acceptable standards. I have little preference over the ambiance of the establishment as long as the food sent to the mouth makes a poetry. Foam, my friend, is gaining exposure and in gradual march taking presence over other fresher, more tangible ingredients in the dining arena, which I loathe to see. Has it become a culinary necessity, or a trend soon-to-be replaced in the next season? Oh, by the way I'm not a eater who abides only the traditional cooking, contemporary fusion has its outstanding flair too. Hey, excuse me, please add more froth on my Macchiato.

COCO @ Granville Island

Snap shots taken at G.I. Thanks to Olympics 2010, G.I. has undergone some metamorphosis in efforts to stimulate touristic fervor. Added aisles of art studios and workshops is a pleasure to walk around.













My pal excites over a briefcase of ducks.







A grotesquely creative chandelier at one of the glass studios. Certainly an original piece of art to install at home to woo some noise.

Fish & Chips at Go Fish

Having nothing to do, I drove to Granville Island with my little pal to spend an afternoon, to enjoy the prevailing nonchalance so characteristic of this tourist spot. An aimless stroll brought us to a place where I had missed several chances in the past of eating their famous Fish and Chips. Go Fish, that's it. A small decent fish house by the yacht wharf, overlooking the infinite stretch of creek side without a prominent barrier in sight. A few fishery's boats dock at the wharf to conduct businesses of their daily fresh catch of scallops, prawns, and fishes; orderly done in their own way.

Fish and chips here are Zagat rated, and its consistently good standard has lured in a usual long queue of customers during the lunch hours where a wait time of half hour is nothing less. If patience is a challenging factor to you, a sincere advice would be to schedule your visit at late noon where your order would be entertained immediately. I love their Fish and Chips, the best that I ever savored so far. Bite into the thin batter crisp, and masticate the soft interior flesh where succulence of the fish is not lost after deep frying. The non-greasy frites are even better than New York Fries, with a taste of some spice in its seasoning that I wish I could decipher. Do drop by to venture the place, it proves to be a desirable deal.

Doggy Cold

My little one is sick today, a doggy cold I figured. She's been awake in the wee hours when the first ray of light hasn't even shine. Her tiny paws made random clicks on the wooden floors, shuffling to and fro in apparent for some antidote. I was dragged out of bed by my intuition to fetch some fresh grass from my garden; the natural herbs to assuage her discomfort. Like a hungry wolf, she finished the grass with a fervid eagerness, and the dog food was left untouched in her dish. She's not having an appetite. There she went on my bed and curled herself lethargically to get a rest. The weather these days changes like the temperament of a woman. With a good intent to shave my little pal's hair just a couple of days ago to welcome the hot summer heat, an unanticipated strong gust of wind and heavy rain lingered instead. It was my negligence not to insulate her with warm outfit while she's out with me for some golf. Now, it's time again to feed her some sugar solution, and bless she'll get up strong tomorrow. Babe, let's fight the cold away.

Pizzeria Time

I love to see how a raw pizza dough doubles upon the reaction of active yeast. The exultation this activity of cooking yields is inexplicable, and the distraction from normal stress is a pleasure to keep this passion burning. Today, I decided that we would have something casual and fun for dinner, to escape the finer rituals of setting the table of chopsticks and all. Let's dine using our fingers, and pizza would be it.

I hate to make choices. Skipped to the conclusion that nobody will hold grudge against the idea of having the choice of all, as long as one can be exempted from the participation in the making, it became easy to arrive to the decision of having an assortment of 3 distinct toppings. Why 3? No reason. All that my brain can think of now.


Kneading the pizza dough was no tough chore. Preparation of the ingredients was another melodic stint. I had the 3 irregular Italian bread spread over with a generous topping of seafood, ham and mushroom, and tuna with cilantro and roma tomatoes. Sweet aroma filled the hot kitchen, and triggered the hungry pangs in our stomach. We worked in haste to bring out the sizzling pizzas, and missed the mannerism to open the bottle of Merlot with grace.


Awaiting around the dining table, we clanked our glasses and blabbed folly wishes before giving way to our jaws and tooth to start the laboring. We were silent, our eyes squinting with desirous delight. What wonders a bread can do indeed, to enliven a lazy evening. The rest of the night was filled with laughter and content.

A good little fella

I’m not a petite mastiff, but I share the same origin of a behemoth mastiff, up at the sublime mountains of the lofty Tibet. Greetings to you, I’m a Llasa Apso. Bearing characteristics of gentleness and overflowing affection, I make lovely companions with people, and a very trustful friend to my master. As with other pets, I love to eat and play, but will never fail to undertake the task of overseeing the needs of my master. I've been pampered for a reason.

A Beginning.

As a living example (expert soon to be) in the field of panic disorder, I have fight with vigor the many unanticipated attacks it had come without notice. From agony to a suited adaptation, I have found life to rhapsodize about than to dread with this unknowing cause of pain. It is with no specific reason that I start this blog, but to stride across the arena of life and post the beauties that I perceive with my senses each day. With pleasure and delight, I shall record the humbler things that we probably missed, and appreciate the mere simplicity that life brings.