♡ Foodie Adventures: Baduzzi ♡

Italian Cuisine Done Right...

After the more serious IB stuff I have been writing about lately, I’ve decided I need something to lighten this blog and me up. Writing about High School and the IB doesn’t always stir up the happiest memories, but do you know what does? Food, eating out at restaurants of all shapes and sizes with amazing friends, great atmosphere and outstanding food! That is what gets me excited!

And what better time is it to find a reason to go out for dinner than the end of high school and a chance to catch up with close friends. Woohoo! FOOD J

Now, Baduzzi is a place I have wanted to try for some time, I’ve heard so much about their meatballs and the chef’s amazing work at “The Grove” so naturally it seemed the perfect place a close catch-up with some friends. It wasn’t an overblown restaurant for fine dining filled with quiet ambience that limited loud-ish conversation, where you sometimes feel intimidated by the almost pressuring formal atmosphere. In fact, it was the exact opposite.

#Instaworthy

Now I am no food critic, I enjoy good food that is it. Therefore, here are my thoughts on Baduzzi.

Atmosphere:  8+1/10

The décor of this place is not of your typical Italian restaurant. The chairs and tables are placed close together, so you do get a whiff of the table next door’s chatter if they are bit too loud. The old wood, bar tables and stools almost remind you of a bar but are intersped with winding placements of plush leather booths and wooden tables and chairs. The lighting is warm and yellow, very suited for conversation and intimate moments. The kitchen despite being open to the tables is not loud and clanking with noise but it provides a nice bustle and background noise to the place.

+1 for having an awesome glass encased wine shelf and an open kitchen

Open Kitchen=Sign of Conifdence

Service: 7.5/10

The staff were very nice and friendly. I expect good service as a given for any restaurant experience. (Geez, that sounded b**tchy) We arrived a bit late but the lady at the door showed us in with a smile, the waitress was very attentive, answering our questions and giving good suggestion on pastas that weren’t too rich, the house’s specialties etc. We could see her love for food and passion and knowledge about Baduzzi, which was great to see.

The only spot on the evening would be the serving of food. As it was quite busy that night, the serving was a tad slow for a group of hungry friends who sat right next to the open kitchen that was churning out fantastic aromas of meat.  It was slow at the start was we waited for the “piccolos”, a shorter time between for the “polpettes” and “primis” and then a longer wait of 15+ minutes for the “secondis” and a mercifully short wait for dessert. Therefore, if you want your food to arrive fast, you should go on a less populated night.

Food: 9/10

Now, you know how I complained about slowness of the food arriving to our table. However, upon some thought, the time lapse between the courses made sense. Now Baduzzi, in keeping with the Italian fashion of meals-small ish servings of food over lots of courses, means that you eat at a slower pace. You may not see this an advantage, but for our table it was a chance for us to truly talk and chat, the food was only one of the main focuses for the night.

        

Portions were smaller, with just enough for each of us, but as you don’t order just one course, by the time we got to dessert we were filled up with yummy food. The price is very good for what they offer you, wagyu and crayfish meatballs, baby hen, divine tiramisu and crostata crafted with some expensive ingredients. Entrees $10-$20, Mains $20-$30 and desserts $10-$15.

Favourite Dishes: Crayfish + Wagyu Meatballs, Beetroot Tagliatelle, Tiramisu, Cannoli.

Overall Recommendation and Rating: 8.5/10 Understated class, with great food and atmosphere.

Hard to Think, How to Think

Post-IBer’s thoughts on the IB Part 3

I have not been posting anything recently, and for that, I apologise. *45 degree bow*

 I have been caught up with last minute friend events before everyone jets off for travel and university. Thus, cue all the sleepovers, all-night karaoke sessions, cartoon marathons and food get-togethers.  Coming back from any sort of social event, I always need the rest of the day to sort of re-stabilise and recover so I am in the mood and state for writing, kind of like how we tend to rest and relax on Sundays to be ready for the trials of Monday.

Back to my “Post-IB Thoughts” section, I’ve decided to finish this little series of thoughts off soon, maybe in the next two posts, we’ll see. Too much time spent in the past is not such a good idea; one tends to be more mired within memory as one does so.  Since, I’ve had some form of writer’s block in trying to think up new bits and pieces of my life to post about, I decided to write a post about thinking.

Just hard?

So, I’ve talked about the nature of the IB program, its C.A.S. requirement. Today, I thought I would touch on the Theory of Knowledge Program, another one of the many requirements beyond academics compulsory for graduation.

The Theory of Knowledge, often shortened and known as TOK is a brief but necessary part of the IB program, consisting of short 2-period length classes per week that aims to inspire thought about not what we think but why we think and how we think, aiming to create links between every subject through ways and areas of knowledge and the grade assessed through a presentation of knowledge issues and a prescribed title essay.

Ways of Knowing-Reason, Emotion, Language, Sense Perception (there are a whole lot more now, but let’s stick with the simpler ones)

Areas of Knowledge-The Arts, Mathematics, History, the Human Sciences, the Natural Sciences and Ethics

We, the IB student collective all moan and complain endlessly about TOK, and why would we not. Seemingly needless and endless lessons of just listening to others talk, the teacher not actively teaching like typical classrooms, researching in class and trying to think about thinking, a waste of 2 good free periods.  It is very much that, but what makes the IB worthwhile, is very much shown via Theory of Knowledge.

At the heart, it teaches us to start thinking, instead of mindlessly doing. Not thinking in the normal sense, e.g. thinking of the solution to a math question but thinking for not a result why the process, the journey to one. Sure, you may scoff, but sometimes by focusing on only the solution as many and want to do; we lose sight and limit our possibilities.

Some of what you learn in TOK is perhaps previous knowledge, but what TOK really does is remind you of these principles, making sure we use them, making sure that we do think in all those different ways that we know how but neglect to do so, in order to find the quickest way to the answer and to force us to slow down as we go over each and every process of thought rather than leap to decisions.

Reason≠ Sense...Reason without emotion, perception and language is not reason

TOK is like that, a session where no one accepts anything without question, where truth is a relative subjective concept and definite answers are subject to context, where one can understand that every way of establishing knowledge has its uses and its limitations. That there is no set infallible method that works in every case or in every subject and have the ability to reason critically.

We all know the methods, but when have we actually ever used them? We know that nothing is certain, nothing should be taken for granted and that there is a reason for every existence. But how many times in our lives do we stop to question them? Only when “they” get in our way, and become a necessary obstacle to solve? 

Think on it.

An Unbalanced Life is one not Worth Maintaining

Or how I learnt how to balance my life via High School and the IB...

Post-IBer's thoughts on the IB Part 2 

I don’t know if Astrological signs are right or not. However, I have always thought mine were particularly accurate, even down to the lucky numbers of the month. Selective bias or not, my own star sign-Libra, the scales always served as a marker for my behaviour. I would always take into consideration every aspect, every positive and negative outcome, the opportunity cost when making decisions, small or big, making sure whatever I did had a good balance of everything.

Generally I didn’t have much problem with the issue of “balance” in my own life. However, as the various assignments, exams, university applications, SATs , family obligations and personal fun time started to get jumbled up in my last year of high school and the last and most difficult year of the IB Diploma, I lost sight of this balance. I started focusing only on my academics, neglected, and forgot about my own mental and physical wellbeing. This left me tired, unfocused and altogether grumpy and moody at times. It didn’t take me long to come to the conclusion that I was in such a snit because of my own skewed focus in life.

Conversely and interestingly, enough, the IB despite unbalancing me, was also able to provide and instil some balance in my life and my habits.

The IB has something called C.A.S, a program short for Creativity, Action and Service, where students have to complete a mandatory 150 hours of activities that are in short, any sports, cultural and volunteering work. The activity chosen must have elements of creativity and/or active movement and/or service to the community. You must complete your CAS hours in order to graduate and receive your Diploma, no matter how good your grades are.

So there you have it, a simple hat trick that makes sure we sleep-deprived, study-driven IB kids don’t lose sight of ways to let off steam, maintain our fitness and ensure that we are rewarded spiritually through helping others by playing concertos for rest homes, running, planting trees, choreographing and organising dances and talent shows between our studying.

I’ve recently come to realise that this habit still resides with me even post-IB.

Unconsciously, I’ve been alternating my days with time spent “studying”-writing my blogs and fulfilling various familiar obligations, to my “creativity”-I’ve started sketching again and watching/reading my books and films, my “action” walks and runs with a friend’s dog, and lastly, my “service”-I spent this afternoon teaching 2 Chinese seniors English I ran into at the Library.

A balance of every aspect in life means that we are in control of our lives, not vice versa, where the aspect-studying, family expectations control us instead. I don’t know if I can maintain this philosophy and balance in university and beyond, but I don’t expect always to. We will all experience upheaval of some sort that will tip the scales one way or the other but at least I am assured that I can rebalance the scales.

As I read somewhere once, a life needs to be lived with everything in moderation, and isn’t that what balance is?

The Inquisitive IB Student?

Post-IBer's thoughts on the IB Part 1

"The International Baccalaureate aims to develop inquiring, knowledgeable and caring young people who help to create a better and more peaceful world through intercultural understanding and respect.” (www.ibo.org/mission/)

I decided to try to do something new today. I felt like the film and TV musing can get a little depressing and serious-it being so far removed from daily life at times, so I’ve decided to focus back and talk about something I am more involved in-High School. Therefore, with this new arrangement, I will still keep the TV/film musings going but add more of my own personal life and maybe some free verse in the future, we will see. J

With any re-telling of the bits of life, it would make sense to go chronologically, so here we go…

Yes, those who know me and read will know that I moaned, complained, whined and cursed at it regularly for the whole 3 years I suffered under it, one year of Pre-ib and two years of the IB Diploma.

God, I Love Tumblr! 

Now looking back at the mission statement of the IBO (Internal Baccalaureate Organisation) sourced from its website, (never fear IB I did reference it is after all one of the things drummed into you by teachers and the IB coordinator), I think back and wonder if I really did become that person, through my education.

Before, I start jabbering on about whether I am that student or not and whether it was worth it, let me give a short run-down about the IB Diploma:

It is a 6 subject-course for the last 3 years of high school, where by each student or candidate as we call them must take 2 languages, Mathematics, one humanities/social science and one science, with the option to take another subject from the previous groups or take one in the arts. In addition, you have an extended essay (self-directed 4000 word essay), Theory of Knowledge-how and why we think and Creativity.Action.Service hours (volunteering) for 150 hrs minimum.

After completing all of that, I started thinking was it all worth it, the money, effort, time, sweat and tears spent for just one piece of pretty paper. I guess, the only way to answer that is through a series of self-posed questions, for today, I thought I would focus on being an inquisitive learner.

What does it mean to be an inquirer? Perhaps, I’ve already answered this question by asking it. Humour aside, I took some time to think about whether I had an inquirer within me.

IB has taught me not to only ask questions, but also to teach me how and in what ways to ask any questions.

Let me expand on this. Coming from an Asian culture, and I would say Chinese more so, we’ve been taught from a young age to defer and respect our elders, following the well-worn and often true adage and formula of Age=(More Experience)=Wisdom. Indeed, this is often if not always true, wisdom is gathered via the school of life not via academia. However, an unfortunate side effect is that we, the young ones are quickly shot down or encouraged and persuaded that we aren’t able, right or a mix of both to question authority-those “uncles” and “aunties” and grandparents.

So, I was taught never or rarely to voice my opinion over others and that to question others meant a challenge of sorts. Living and growing up in a foreign world where, the opposite philosophy lived, it took awhile to get used to. IB was able to coax this inquisitive side out of me by making class participation compulsory and part of our grade thereby making “asking questions” necessary.

Nevertheless, when you begin to think about this more clearly, asking questions isn’t enough. Anyone can ask questions, right?

Yes…… and no.

Gathering the courage and confidence to ask questions in front of a class of 10, 20 or more is the first step. What makes a true inquirer and not just merely a questioner is that of the way I was guided to ask a question. To go from broad to narrow and then to narrow again, as a way of introducing the topic to the audience, drawing focus to certain areas and then leave the audience with and open ending-a chance for thought and reflection to continue on from the topic areas. To formulate questions that wouldn’t just yield yes or no closed answers but yet weren’t so open that the answer was vague and unfocused.

Perhaps, here an example would serve best. For each subject, we had a self-direct investigation and essay, directed by our own questions. E.g. English Literature

Draft 1: The symbolism of the mad and insane in Ward No. 6
Draft 2: To what extent are insanity and delusions a sign of societal constriction in Ward No. 6
Draft 3: The Role of Sickness, Lunacy and Death in Ward No. 6 To what extent to they serve as Chekhov’s mouthpiece for social and political criticism.

So there you have it, I may not always be an excellent inquirer but at least I have learnt the hows and the whys of it because of the IB.

The Grand Illusion Hotel

Thoughts on "The Grand Budapest Hotel"

I took some time to wade through my exhausting collection of film and television collections the other day. What I found when I tried to start organising them was that when I changed one of the toolbar options to ‘Most Played’, Wes Anderson’s work had the most appearances in my Top 10.

It was definitely a delightful surprise, like all Wes Anderson films are-grandiose humour and overblown yet dream-like intricate sets and characters with quaint quirks all with a sophisticated aesthetic veneer and dialogue.  When you walk away from one of his films, you leave with a light-hearted joy and one of those little half-smiles that will surface time and time again when you think back to one memorable scene or another. It was with his latest and 8^th feature film-The Grand Budapest Hotel that I choose to base my words today on.

Here is the plot from Empire.com: An author recalls a visit he made in the ‘60s to what was once one of Europe’s most luxurious hotels. There, the young author meets its owner, Mr. Moustafa, who tells how he came to inherit the building from M. Gustave.

One of the themes present in the film, is that fading world of gentility and culture giving way to one of brutish crudeness represented by the violence of the Fascist troops.  In this, I was perhaps reminded back to my own selfsame desire for the illusion of high school to stay with me in my first post.

M. Gustave: You see, there are still faint glimmers of civilization left in this barbaric slaughterhouse that was once known as humanity. Indeed that is what we provide in our own modest, humble, insignificant... oh, fuck it!

It is within all of us, I think, for some little part at least, that thinks and regards society as a collections of blunt uncultured brutes that cares little for what truly matters in life.

Or not?

I am told I assume and presume too much for my own good, extrapolating my own views onto others as I argue.

As the movie moves on, we realise that M. Gustave’s world is one that is quickly fading and being taken over by a new world order one that strips away the grandeur and refined elegance to simplicity and monochromes of colour-in attention-seeking orange and yellow.  He maintains the hotel as the solid illusion of his civilization.

I can see why he and others would want to maintain an illusion of sorts, *hint hint* Blanche DuBois. It is because we all have a need to believe in them. No, I don’t believe all life is an illusion, but there are moments when we must delude ourselves or a section of our lives for namely personal and psychological reasons-for hope.

The great part of these self-created illusions is that they can also be self-fulfilling. When one gets oneself into believing in the illusion that you can master a certain thing well, one will very often also learn to master it with due time. This can happen, even if in the beginning one could just be flying without wings, We are often kept afloat just by an illusion. Losing these illusions could again easily lead into desperation and despair. However, even most of the time we just need to fool ourselves up to some point. If we would really know the true limits of our understanding, expertise and knowledge, we would not dare do anything demanding.

Happily all of the people live in the same kind of bubbles of illusion. We do live in a world of commonly build illusions. We think that the other people do have the necessary understanding, expertise and knowledge that we deep down always will suspect that we are lacking ourselves. Similarly other people do trust us in a similar way, mainly because nobody ever reveals their real self-doubts to others.

One could say that it is a really good thing that the true state of things is never revealed to us. Maintaining the common illusion of understanding, expertise and knowledge keeps us safe from despairing on the fact with how little true understanding, expertise and knowledge the world is really run on.

 It brings me to the virtue of honesty, maybe something I will talk about next time. But here I leave with Zero’s words.

Mr. Moustafa: To be frank, I think his world had vanished long before he ever entered it - but, I will say: he certainly sustained the illusion with a marvellous grace!

Call Me Dr. Lecter… Please Come In

Hannibal... A Mad Psychopath?

#Hannibal: Madness can be a medicine for the modern world. You take it in moderation, it's beneficial.

I’ve been watching a lot of films lately. The one thing no one tells you is that once you finish a film, including trilogies and series, you are left with a sense of loss and a somewhat dull ache in your chest or in your other emotional organs.  With this madness of binge-watching movies, I sought to try to find something different.

So what do and how to fill up and heal this sense of emptiness at the end of a beloved film(s)? 

Well, simply move onto other films to forget about the loss or move into TV shows. The continuity and extended development of a TV drama allows the characters to develop, gain depth, advance the plot and weave a more solid given circumstance to the story.  

Such is the power of film and drama to bring to life and allow us to visualise the richness inherent in literature. For me, I have started watching Hannibal. As I mentioned before, I am attracted to revenge plots for the reason of the avengers own complex, deep and conflicting personality that intrigues me. I would say that Hannibal then is then the master of layers and layers of depth and lies, a man of conflicting depths with a flair for violent drama and tasteful food and clothing.

Here is a little plot summary (imdb.com) : Hannibal explores the early relationship between the renowned psychiatrist and serial killer, Dr. Hannibal Lecter and his patient, a young FBI criminal profiler, who is haunted by his ability to empathize with serial killers.

Ahh... Wonder what our favourite cannibal is eating?

#Hannibal: Psychopaths are not crazy. They are fully aware of what they do and the consequences of those actions.

Now going back to the two quotes, madness springs to mind. And what I want to address today is precisely this madness, or more specifically my own empathy for madness-a madness for our own passions.

When we are interested in something, or perhaps I shouldn’t generalise we tend to pursue it with in a determined fashion with a desire to know all about it, the ins and outs to say. We seem to live in a society where the environmental and personal norm is to discourage madness or crazy devotion to anything. We see and associate madness with its connotations of disorder, chaos, and unruliness, nothing anyone wants in their lives right?

Perhaps not.

Like the two quotes, our “madness” or “love” (a fine line divides the two) for anything can spur us on, resulting in positive feedback if taken indeed in “moderation”. It is a time proven concept that we accomplish more when we love what we do. So why not pursue what you love or let others do so?

I tend to think that our madness inspires us to learn more about the subject, we are not blinded to its flaws and faults as other may say but instead we are more aware of them, becoming more tolerant of them and able to find definitive solutions to them. Madness for our loves fuels inspiration and energetic enthusiasm for it, or how else can we explain the ability for scientists to spend days and night on end in the lab for a cure for cancer? Or the writer aware of their own failing health and fragility to push on and finish their literary masterpieces? (Flaubert, O’Henry, and Dickens I am thinking of you all)

Some madness is beneficial, for we become less attuned to the opinions of others, the caustic nature of negative barbs and criticisms. By throwing the opinions of others and our own care for public image away for a period, we are then able to focus our energy and attention on what truly matters, the subject of our madness. And from madness create great things. 

We willingly go into madness for something, think about it before you disagree, would we really get involved into something if it did not speak to some intrinsic part of us, and is that not worth exploring that part of you who is attracted to this? We go into this with full awareness of the opportunity cost, of what we stand to gain and lose from this, because it is not true madness if we have not experienced doubt and wavering for it.

So to end? My madness is for life’s art, the insatiable desire to know the arts, to know literature and cinema.

What is your madness?

Voila! Lung...

The Roads to Perdition

A Fatherly & Emotional Gangster...

By now, you would have realised my penchant for films, especially of the revenge category. It is always something about revenge, of the vastness for human hatred to stretch beyond what is possible in order to lift us above our socio-economic stations, to overcome physical and mental difficulties and to enact in ourselves the grace of the Godly in sometimes morally wrong acts all for the sake and reason of revenge. 

I am attracted to that as much as anything, the rise and destruction of others enthrals me; captured on film it shows both the best and worst of man as well the capabilities and cowardice of man that we seldom are able to explore in reality.

This leads me to the Mendes film “Road to Perdition”, one of those little known but emotionally compelling and exquisitely crafted film about the gangster ideal.

The Gangster Cliche ain't it?

Here is a brief plot summary from Empire.com: Following a messy murder, hit man Michael Sullivan is betrayed by the man he called father, formidable Irish hood John Rooney. Leaving behind a murdered family and with a killer on his tail, Sullivan goes on the run, hungry for revenge.

John Rooney: There are only murderers in this room! Michael! Open your eyes! This is the life we chose, the life we lead. And there is only one guarantee: none of us will see heaven.

I chose this line because it resonates so heavily with the double-entendre in the title, what is the road to perdition? A town? A final state? Or the result of the revenge?

Perdition [per-dish-uhn]   noun

1. a state of final spiritual ruin; loss of the soul; damnation.

2. the future state of the wicked.

“Road to Perdition" is a title with dual meanings. In literal terms, Perdition is the name of the town to which Michael Sullivan and his only surviving son, Michael Sullivan, Jr., are headed. However, Perdition is also a euphemism for Hell, and in that regard, the road is one Michael Sullivan prays he can keep his son from travelling on their lonely road for revenge.

So, this leads to my thought for the day, choice. We all have choices, each a fork in the proverbial road of life that brings us to another decision, another state, each with differing results. For me, I could have chosen to go to two wholly separate ways in my youth. One was to follow the road set and advocated by my parents and my own pride for the International Baccalaureate diploma and then one of the Top 25 Universities. The other advocated by my peers of the time and my own personality was to remain complacent in my own bubble and Auckland.

No, I’m not putting down my home but for a 13-yr old success meant the world, it meant New York, London not Auckland. If I had stayed would I have been like Mike Sullivan mired in the world of gangster-dom as a hit-man for Rooney, leaving his family no choice. I didn’t want that for my future, I wanted a different life. Like it or not, New Zealanders lead a rather complacent life, with an easy-going lifestyle. I knew that to satisfy my own ambition and attain my goals I needed a wider and bigger platform where others were driven and focused each for their own success.

The message from Michael the father to Michael the son is that you get to choose the road you're on in this life, but don't choose what I have chosen…the road I've been on all my life. Somewhere in my past, I made the choice to go in a certain direction, and it leads right to perdition.

True, very little of us end in perdition but I think the message applies to all of us. We have the choice to make something with our brief time on this Earth, to bring our families and ourselves out and beyond our set roads to something truly worthwhile.

It is your own legs that walk your own road, why let other legs dictate that for you?