It's a new week and though it's the oh-so-dreaded Monday, just remember...life is beautiful. Take some savory sips of life throughout the day. For me might mean getting my treat drink, a flat white, on my way to work, or just taking extra long having friendly banter with a patient. And it means almost always sitting down with a glass of red at the end of the day. Cheers amici. 

Do you believe in fate? I have always been a personal fan of destiny and a God-created plan, especially when it comes to the people we meet in our lives. There is an Asian legend that is referred to as the red string of fate. Apparently the gods tie a red string to your ankle and around the ankles of the people you are destined to be with and no matter where you are in the world (Italy or Canada) or how twisted and tangled the string gets, you will eventually meet each other. The people connected by the string are soul mates, destined lovers despite place and time. I believed in the red string far before I ever met Massi, but it was only after our meet cute that the ties that bind became even more apparent. I thought I would share the four circumstances that, in my opinion, are no coincidence. I dedicate this post to my work colleagues who just adore these stories. 

Late June or July, 6 years ago. Abercrombie and Fitch. Edmonton, AB, Canada.
I was manning the dressing rooms at my summer job when a cute boy came to try on a hoodie. He spoke with a heavy accent that I decided was Brazilian (now I can pick out an Italian accent from miles away). For some unbeknownst reason, I remembered his yellow shirt and backpack (which we would later realize was his Invicta backpack, the trademark carry-all of every Italian). And for more obvious reasons, I remembered his long hair tied into a ponytail. That was the first time we met without knowing it. We would later discover that Massi had just landed in Edmonton from Italy and was looking for clothes after his luggage was delayed. Little did he know, he had found more than a hoodie at Abercrombie that day! 

August, 6 years ago. The Bank Nightclub. Edmonton, AB, Canada.
Our official meeting, read The Backstory for descriptives of Massi's white pants. I was there with girlfriends on a Wednesday night for the last official Ladies' Night with 25 cent highballs. He photo-bombed a photo with my friend Claire even before photo-bombing was a term, then he decided he would be in the next one... right beside me. We are literal strangers in these photographs. The next Monday, we had a first "date" on campus. 

January 2014. Edmonton International Airport Check-In: Edmonton --> Honolulu, HI, USA.
This is going to sound like I made it up, but it is the absolute truth I swear! We had booked our flights to Hawaii separately. The same flight obviously but Massi had wanted to use his credit card travel points for his ticket. So I booked mine from my home on one day, on my laptop and Massi booked his through points on a completely different day from his apartment downtown. As far as the reservations were concerned we were person X and Y, un-related, un-linked, no little travel agent notes saying we were a couple. We specifically went to check-in early as we knew we would have to request our seats together on the flight. And as the red string would have it, when our tickets were pulled up, guess who I was seated next to already? No seating adjustments necessary.

June 2014. London Heathrow Airport, London, England. 
I was flying to Milan Malpensa with my mom and Massi was flying to Milan Linate. He had flown out of Calgary to Heathrow while we had flown from Edmonton. Our flights had arrived at separate times and based on the crazy chaos that is Heathrow, we had made absolutely no plans to meet or even try to meet up. We were going to meet in Italy. This might only have significance if you are familiar with the size and number of people at Heathrow- to put it into perspective, it is the busiest airport in Europe. So there I am, sitting on the floor in a totally random corner of the airport, sipping on my iced Starbucks latte and waiting for my mom when all of a sudden, Massi strolls out of the bathrooms situated directly in front of where I am sitting. Check out this post: Heathrow and destiny.

So now that you are hopefully feeling all warm and fuzzy from this quartet of recollections, what do you think....Is it coincidence? Chance? Whether it is a red string, God, or the tapestry of fate, I like to think there is something greater at the root of all great loves. 

Today's throwback is to the magical summer between third and fourth year pharmacy that I spent on the island of Ischia with the Faculty of Pharmacy. In case it is not obvious, I chose the color of the class t-shirts and I also made the boys wear v-necks.  Just because it was summer and it was Italy. Second only to the v-necks was the study abroad experience of a lifetime- three weeks, one hostel, Italy, your favorite people from school, and the cheapest liters of red wine imaginable. In those weeks, everyone found their inner Italian. We strutted and swaggered instead of walked, we flirted more shamelessly, we laughed a little louder, drank a little more and lingered a little longer over meals. Though the course is meant to draw focus to the importance of diet and food sustainability on preventative health, I think what we all remember most is the importance of enjoying the moment- that sometimes there is no better medication for high blood pressure than a glass of pinot grigio, a seaside table, and a Mediterranean sunset. 

Enjoy the view wherever you are. Happy Saturday all. 

Ever since I first backpacked Europe between first and second year undergrad and stumbled upon this quote, I have waited for the moment when I could use it in a post exactly like this one and happily check off each line like a Sunday shopping list. Today I quit my job. And while many people remain perplexed by this decision, citing numerous issues such as financial security and the time it takes to become a pharmacist etc, etc., I simply ask: so?  We should instead be asking ourselves when the value of education became second to the number value on a cheque at the end of the month. Having a savings account above zero is definitely a nice feeling, I cannot dispute that, but what I do know is the moments where I have been truly happy required little or no money at all. I usually try to take a mental photograph of what happiness is, the situations in which it bubbles up in my soul and I am somewhere smiling like a fool at nothing in particular. Here is an actual photograph, one of those rare ones that captures something unintentional. It is just a simple moment- we are squished and sweaty in a tuk-tuk bouncing along through Kathmandu to an unknown destination, sharing a story I no longer remember, and yet there is a lightness in all of our faces. It shines through the eyes and the smiles. I like to think that this is what happy hearts look like. 

Chase whatever makes your heart happy.  Do not resign yourself to living the same day on repeat and eighty years later, call it a life. After a year of practicing pharmacy, I feel the winds changing. It is time for a new adventure. I sincerely hope that my journey will inspire some of you to be daring and do something that makes people furrow their brows with confusion and concern. What a wonderful reaction to create in others, wouldn't you agree? 

So I never thought I would be good at learning languages. This was further merited by the fact that my parents tried to teach us Cantonese growing up and I know the extent of a typical white frat boy trying to pick up Asian girls at the bar. Ni hao. Is that even Cantonese? Shameful. Then of course there was the French phase where the language was thrust upon us by force and curriculum. Merci beaucoup. It was not until I reached university that I discovered I love languages. I enrolled in Russian in my undergraduate years and studied for two years (that's basically the equivalent of four years relative to regular courses because with language courses, you had class every single day).  I read and wrote cyrillic wonderfully (spasibo to Katya) and it turns out my Russian skills were even better after a few vodka shots in clubs with face control in Moskva. It was enough to take me through Russia on the Trans-Siberian Railway and not fear getting lost on the metro. But then came Italian. Oh, Italian. La bella lingua. There are books written about the beauty of the language. Simply speaking, it is a joy to speak. It charms the mouth, the ears, and the heart all at once (here I refer to native speakers and not my accento americano). Dianne Hales who wrote the book, La Bella Lingua, describes it as luscious. Italian has the most fabulous little nuances in the form of suffixes and prefixes that can transform a tavolo (a table) to a tavolino (a cute, little table). And that is only the tip of the iceberg. Which is the exact sentiment shared with fellow lover of Italian, Cher Hale. She writes a blog called The Iceberg Project, founded on a passion for Italian and the belief that everyone can learn it. Check her out, you will not be disappointed. And once you've honed your skills, scrivetemi dei commenti in italiano (write me comments in Italian)!

Next up, I thought I would move on to Spanish. That was dangerous because Spanish es mucho similar to Italian and I found myself floundering in both languages, doing a hybrid Italian-ish. So I quit Spanish to focus more on Italian (with Italian, I understand 80% of Spanish speakers anyways. In fact, Spanish and Italian speakers like to do this creepy game where they each speak their own language to each other and they *gasp* understand). The best thing I ever learned in Spanish class was actually something my professor said the first day: 

We are all capable of learning a new language, but you will only ever be successful for one of two reasons: for survival or for love. 

Needless to say, I walked out of that lesson beaming. L'ho fatto per l'amore. I did it for love. And it has and continues to be, the most humbling experience of my life. 


(P.S. Grazie a tutti i miei amici italiani per il vostro supporto e la vostra pazienza!) 

This is one of those extremely versatile cakes that you can both take to parties to impress, yet it is simple enough to make for self-indulgence as well! The topping bakes right on which I love, no need to wait agonizingly for anything to cool down in order to start adding frosting. It also has a whopping two cups of apples, so a slice counts as a serving of fruit I'm sure. I love a piece of this cake on a crisp fall day with a steaming tazzina of espresso. Enjoy. 

Caramel Apple Cake 
Ingredients
Cake
1/2 cup butter, softened
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
2 cups flour
3/4-1 cup sugar 
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1 cup sour cream
2 cups diced, peeled aples
3/4 cup Skor toffee bits

Topping
1/3 cup four
2 tbsp brown sugar
1/4 cup butter, softened
3/4 cup Skor toffee bits

For the cake: Cream butter, sugar eggs, and vanilla in a bowl until light and fluffy; in another bowl combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Add to the first mixture alternating with the sour cream. Fold in apples and Skor bits. Spread in greased 13" x 9" cake pan. 
For the topping: Combine all ingredients and mix with fingers until crumbly. Careful not to play with the mixture too long otherwise the butter will start to melt and the topping will become too chunky. Sprinkle over the batter. 

Bake at 350 degrees F for 35-40 minutes. I imagine it would be delicious served warm with some maple walnut or vanilla ice cream. Just saying. 

Burano, Italy is like a postcard. It is most recognized for it's lace and beautifully colored houses. An island in the North Venetian Lagoon, it can often be overlooked in favor of it's more famous neighbor, although to tell you the truth, I would much rather spend a day here than Venice. Walking through Burano is akin to walking through a painting and you are almost guaranteed to become that annoying tourist taking a thousand photos of the brilliant palette that is the island. It is the kind of place that becomes more beautiful as the sun sets, casting that golden glow on the houses and all at once, you have a whole new masterpiece surrounding you. Burano è come una cartolina. Notata per il suo pizzo e le sue case tutte colorate. Burano è un'isola vicino a Venezia ed a dirvi la verità, preferirei a passare un giorni qui invece di a Venezia. Camminando tra le case è proprio come camminando tra un dipinto, diventeresti quella turista scattando un mille di foto. 

To boudoir or not to boudoir, that is the question. And the answer is absolutely! As many of my girlfriends are getting hitched this upcoming year, I thought I would post about getting boudoir photos done for a groom's gift. I was initially extremely nervous because who really wants to stand around in lingerie in front of a stranger for an hour? Especially when standing around really means posing awkwardly for what you hope will miraculously produce a Victoria's Secret print ad. And I have to say, miracles do happen. I was so happy with the experience, even more so than with the photographs (which turned out jaw-dropping gorgeous, my friends could not believe it was me!). Interestingly, one of the first questions the photographers asked me was whether this was for myself or for someone else and I was rather inclined to say myself. The way I approached the boudoir experience was actually in regarding it as an end goal. After I purchased the package, I immediately signed-up for personal training with Infinite Fitness. That was five months and eight pounds ago and it is thanks to them that I got these photos taken. I think every woman should consider doing a boudoir session, it turned out to be a great self-motivator for me. As Samantha Jones said- you'll be able to look back at them when you're eighty and think, damn I was hot! 

And of course, they make a great groom's gift...you're welcome Massi.

I am adding this daily dose of awww to my blog posts since I have accumulated so many little romantic stories and quotes and letters over the years. Some of it is original material while others were stolen from another website or novel (I will of course try to let you know from where whenever possible). Hope these help warm your heart on a chilly day! 

December 18, 2009- a note written from me to Massi
You have gone back to Italy today. I miss you like I miss sunshine on rainy days in Paris when I plan a picnic with wine and baguettes, like when it is the last day in a city and I have a stomach ache. I will miss you like the ocean would miss the pull of the moon. See you in 27 days.

Pictured is the mozzarella tasting platter at Tavern 1903 (find them here: http://tavern1903.com/). The pesto is amazing but the mozzarella is standard and by standard I mean has the subtlest taste of once upon a time in Napoli. The Italians say the only place to eat it is right from the source of Southern Italy and even if  you try to bring it back up North on the Frecciarossa (the fastest cross-national train), it will never be the same. It might as well be radioactive in the sense that you have a set amount of time to enjoy it's creamy amazing-ness before it self-destructs. I could talk about mozzarella for days and I have been infamously known to never turn down a nosh...however, what we should really be talking about is their Signature Truffled Mac and Cheese with baby lobster and shitake mushrooms. It is the kind of dish you pencil into your planner a week before so that it looks something like this: 

Saturday, September 13, 2014
18.00-19.45: Date with Truffled Mac and Cheese 
19.45-21:30: Digestivi @ Bar Bricco to help digest above
22.00: bedtime

How creamy and filling is it you ask? I worked out twice in 12 hours the day before. Twice. Due volte. Trust me, you want to try this and you are not a true Edmonton foodie unless you have. Make reservations at least one week in advance for Friday or Saturday nights otherwise you'll end up like me this past weekend with my 18.00 reservations that saw me calling it a night post-Bar Bricco "night-caps" at 21.30.  Party on young twenty-somethings, I have a date with my bed and my food baby. 

...the sweetness of doing nothing. Buona domenica a tutti! 

So you know how Kraft Dinner is the Canadian go-to dish whenever you're hungry and need a quick-fix? It might be the ultimate comfort food in addition to being cheap as it brings back nostalgic memories of the simplicity of being a kid. Massi had never heard of Kraft Dinner before coming to Canada, nor did he ever warm up to it's cheesy goodness. However, there are one or two pasta dishes that he makes that are both happiness in a bowl while requiring minimal effort to make. This is one of them. Food is so closely linked to memories and that might be a huge part of these dishes and why they resonate with me. This is a dish Massi used to make me when we first started dating and when he had first come to Canada. We used to have to cook it in the frathouse kitchen and there would barely be room to move around (not because of the numerous boys trying to cook but because of all the empty, dirty dish piles!). We would then eat it with reckless abandon on a fall day, sitting on his bed, watching the golden and red leaves swirl around outside. And I remember thinking, this is what it means to be happy. Food and love, that's all it takes. 

Tuna and Tomato Pasta 
Ingredients 
1-2 cans of tuna in olive oil 
1-2 cups of passata (a tomato purée) 
2 tbsp good olive oil 
salt and pepper 
1/4 onion, chopped (if you like)
whichever pasta strikes your fancy 
(keep in mind that something with ridges or holes in it will hold the sauce better!) 

Add the tuna and olive oil into a pan and cook with onions until onions are soft. Add the passata and simmer until the sauce is thickened. Add salt and pepper to taste. Boil your pasta to al dente, drain. Pour tomato and tuna sauce over, stir and serve hot. 

Ah the moment you stumble upon a deserted alley in the midst of the tourist hustle-and-bustle...the world just stops and you are suddenly transported to a simpler time. The chatter of a dozen languages fades away and all you hear is the gentle breeze and the rustle of fresh laundry drying. The paint is peeling and the colors muted from years of rainy springtimes. There are cracks running up the concrete. And yet, it is the most beautiful thing you have seen. This is the moment so many people come to Italy to experience and not all will find.

I just updated my Instagram so that it will soon be a little more linked to the blog and everything social media-wise will have some continuity. If you wanted to check out my past photos on Instagram, they were a tad more fashion-focused (ahem, selfies and the such) which I do hope to eventually continue on on the blog as well. Thought I might share this shot of my Coordinates Legend bracelet (check them out here: http://www.coordinatescollection.com/legend-bracelet). The coordinates I had engraved are actually those of Bergamo, the city in Italy where I will be living. I also had a ring made with the coordinates of Edmonton because although we may grow wings and take flight, it is so important to remember where we came from. Cheers and see you on Instagram! 

This might be my next favorite pasta dish after casoncelli (click on category link for past post on these). Pizzoccheri are also from Northern Italy and the kind of dish you feel like eating after a long day's hiking/skiing in the mountains (or in Massi's case, motorcycling the mountains). It is quite heavy on the tummy but I doubt there is an anti-depressant that could elicit the same feeling of content-ness with the world as a plate of these. Not even cocaine. These are better than cocaine. The photo was taken by Massi a couple weeks ago, it is not photo-shopped...collective gasp. And the best part? The pasta is typically made of buckwheat or whole wheat, so that means they are healthy and we can eat as much as we want. 

Pizzoccheri- by Mark Bittman, The New York Times
Ingredients
1 stick butter ( 1/4 pound)
4 fresh sage leaves
1 clove garlic, peeled and smashed
1 medium potato, peeled and thinly sliced
1 cup swiss chard, in strips
1/2 pound flat, broad buckwheat noodles (pizzoccheri) or whole wheat noodles
1 cup fontina Val d’Aosta (or other good semisoft) cheese , grated
1 cup Parmesan, grated
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 cups homemade bread crumbs.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. In a small saucepan over low heat, melt butter with sage and garlic until butter turns nut-brown; be careful not to burn sage leaves. Set aside.
Cook potato and cabbage in boiling water until they begin to soften, just 5 minutes or so. Add pasta to same pot and continue to cook until pasta is nearly done. Drain.

In a large oven-proof dish, spread a layer of vegetable-pasta combination, then a layer of grated fontina, then a layer of grated Parmesan; sprinkle with salt and pepper. Continue this layering until all ingredients are used, ending with a layer of Parmesan; ideally you will have four layers of each. Cover dish with bread crumbs and drizzle with melted butter and sage (discard garlic). Bake for about 15 minutes, or until top is golden-brown and cheese has melted. Serve hot or warm.

Link to recipe: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/31/dining/311mrex.html
*This recipe does not include how to make the pasta from scratch, however there are many recipes that include that as well as it is just a flour and water-based pasta and you do not need to roll it out with a pasta machine. 

Cheddar and bacon in a recipe name...need I convince you? This bread was sourced out by my mother from Kraft Canada and force-fed to me as breakfast because it has 'protein'. I suppose that she means the teeny bits of bacon and sprinkling of cheese. Being a dietician, she is constantly obsessed with us eating things that are high in protein, hence we feel full longer, hence we do not balloon into, well...balloons. My job as a pharmacist sees me waking up a half-hour before the pharmacy needs to open and I am always looking for a breakfast item that I can just throw in my bag during the morning rush and munch on while I prepare for the methadone patients rush. This is my go-to breakfast bread and a slice is probably much healthier than a sausage and egg McMuffin, just sayin'. 

Buttermilk Cheddar-Bacon Bread
Ingredients
2 1/4 cups flour
1/4 cup sugar
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 egg
1 cup buttermilk
1/2 cup butter, melted
1/4 cup bacon bits
1 cup shredded cheddar
1/4 cup chopped chives 

Heat oven to 350F. Mix first 4 ingredients in a bow. Whisk egg, buttermilk, and butter in separate bowl until blended. Add to flour mixture along with bacon, cheese, and chives. Stir slightly until moist. Spoon into 8x4 inch loaf pan sprayed with oil. Bake for 45 minutes or until toothpick test is clean. Cook for 15 minutes and then remove and place on wire rack to cool completely. 

I have always been the ultimate romantic. I love cheesy. If my life could resemble a romantic comedy complete with dramatic airport embraces (check) and grand gestures galore, I would be one happy lady. So here's a little dose of cheesy and here's hoping everyone finds that someone to take silly photos with.  Because we are all romantics at heart.

"This was inspired by the great Canadian outdoor experience: you can taste the forest in the wild mushrooms, and the campfire in the Sylvan Star Smoked Gouda." - Chef David Bohati

Dressed-up Wild Mushroom Mac&Cheese
Ingredients
Gouda mornay sauce: 
90mL butter
45mL white truffle oil
1 onion, diced
125mL flour
625mL milk
10mL fresh lemon juice
5mL salt
pinch of grated nutmeg
500mL gouda, grated 
(recommended: Sylvan Star Smoked Mild Gouda)
450g your choice pasta

In a medium saucepan, heat butter and oil over medium heat; sauté onion 3 minutes. Sprinkle with flour; continue to cook until golden brown. Gradually stir in milk and lemon; whisk until smooth. Reduce heat to low, season with salt and nutmeg and simmer until thick. Remove from heat and stir in gouda until melted. Cook pasta to al dente, drain. 

Mushroom ragout: 
1 clove garlic
2 shallots, julienned
150g each oyster and shimeji mushrooms
90g each morel and chanterelle mushrooms
250mL dry red wine
170g arugula 
thyme
pepper 
truffle oil

In a large skillet, heat garlic and oil on high heat with shallots. Add mushrooms and cook until browned, about 5 minutes. Add wine (drink leftover), cook, stirring and scraping up any bits until reduced. Stir in thyme and pepper. Remove from heat; stir in arugula. 

To serve: Add pasta to Gouda mornay sauce; toss. Divide pasta among serving bowls and top with mushroom ragout. Sprinkle with garnish of your choice and drizzle again with truffle oil. 

Recipe by Chef David Bohat (executive chef at MARKET in Calgary, Alberta)

Today marks the turning of seasons for many people. What a melancholy feeling I get from feeling the crisp air in the evenings. While I love autumn, there is nothing quite like summer. Oggi è il primo giorno di una stagione nuova per tanta gente. Che malinconia sentire l'aria fresca durante le sere. Anche se mi piace l'autunno, non c'è paragone con l'estate vero?  It is now the season of fashion weeks, September issue Vogue, pumpkin spice lattes, post-pumpkin spice latte guilt, knits, and stacked heeled boots. Before the oranges and reds take over in Canada, here is one last photograph of beautiful green all the way from Italy. Photographed by Massi.