On Thursday night, our foodie friends James & Cassie took us to La Duni in Dallas. We call them our foodie friends because they know all of the BEST places to eat! Aaron & I think we’re foodies, but we’re nothing compared to them! So whenever we go out to eat, we know the food is going to be AH.MAY.ZING.

This time was no exception. If you heart Latin American food, I highly recommend it! The restaurant was small and quaint, and the prices aren’t bad either. We were looking through the menu when Aaron spotted this Argentinian entree that sounded interesting. Well, of course it sounded interesting to him because it had sausage, pork chops, ribeye and skirt steak! My first thought was, Umm … honey, it sounds like an awful lot of food for the both of us to share. And you don’t eat leftovers, so … To which his response was, “Nah, it’ll be fine!” So I looked at the price to see if I could gage how big this thing would be. It was “MARKET PRICE.” Well then. Let’s just see how monstrous this will be!

Well, the platter literally took up 1/3 of our table. And no matter how much food we tried to pass off to James & Cassie, we still had plenty of leftovers. To this day, Aaron swears he had no idea how much food this would be. I’m convinced he just saw the word “ribeye” and didn’t read anything else.

So how much was the food? Well actually, it wasn’t bad AT ALL. $65 for enough meat to literally feed 4 people. So Friday night, guess what we had for dinner? This is the only time I can remember Aaron eating leftovers and actually enjoying it. And to go along with the theme, I made some homemade Chimichurri sauce. And of course, the leftover Chimichurri sauce made a very nice little addition to my breakfast the next morning. I think it has replaced pesto in my diet (*gasp*). Sorry Italy! I still love you!

Here is the recipe I used (which can be found here):

1 cup fresh flat-leaf Italian parsley

3-4 garlic cloves

2 tbsp fresh oregano (or 2 tsp of dried)

1/2 extra virgin olive oil

2 tbsp red wine vinegar

1 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

1/4 tsp red pepper flakes

Finely chop the parsley, garlic & oregano in a food processor. Place in a bowl, and stir in the rest of the ingredients. That’s it!

*Warning, if you eat this, you will have the most delicious, most awesome garlic breath in the world.

Don’t ever ask me where I’m from. And this is why.

My parents are from Hong Kong, both born and raised there (I think – one might have been born in China, but I’m not sure). Though they both lived on this teeny tiny island, they didn’t meet each other until they were both in England. He was studying medicine in Dover while my mom was at the Royal College of Music, studying piano. After dating for a few years, they got married back in Hong Kong but they continued to live in England while my dad finished medical school.

And that is where I was born. In Edgware. In a county called Middlesex. NOT Wessex or Sussex. Middlesex. Who names a city that?!?!?!? Anyway, that’s why I always say I was born in London.

The first 6 months of my life were spent crying, pooping, sleeping and playing with our cat Fluffy (who apparently was a stray that my mom adopted). After my dad finished his residency, we packed up and moved back to Hong Kong to be closer to family. There, my dad started his own clinic (which he still runs out of the same building to this day), and my mom got a teaching job at the Academy for Performing Arts. I think I was literally raised in that building, following my mom around and eventually picking up the piano.

When I turned 9 or 10, my parents started thinking ahead. They didn’t want me and my younger brother to stay in Hong Kong forever. They knew that we would be better educated and better cultured if we left. So they started looking at different countries.

England was an obvious choice. My mom and I spent about 3 weeks there, auditioning at 3 different music schools. The first one was the Yehudi Menuhin School, where I instantly befriended a Singaporean girl (and of course, immediately wanted to attend). The second was the Chetham’s School of Music, which was literally located in an old castle. Everything was dark and cold. Kinda like a prison. But this cute boy named Spike showed us around. He was a trumpet player, and now that I think about it, he looked a lot like Harry Potter. I did NOT want to go there. And the last school I auditioned for was the Henry Purcell School, located out in the beautiful countryside. In the middle of my audition, I got rebellious and told them that I wanted to be a ballerina, not a piano player (which was an 11-year-old’s way of giving a stuffy Brit the proverbial middle finger).

Still, my parents were interested in America. Like most of their friends, they thought that America was the land of higher education. And one day, while flipping through Clavier Magazine, my mom found a summer piano institute that was very appealing. So one summer, we left for Fort Worth, TX to attend the TCU/Cliburn Piano Institute. And while there, my mom met Mr. Stephen Seleny, the headmaster of a local private school. He, like the man running the Institute, was from Hungary and had a tremendous love for classical music. Once he heard me play, he told my mom that he would accept me and my brother into the school without needing to take an entrance exam.

Well, snap. Seemed like an easy decision then!

So when I was 13, we made the big move to Texas. But my dad stayed behind because he wouldn’t be able to practice medicine in America without going back to school (to which he replied, “I’m too old to do that again!”). And that is how I landed in America. In a plane, not a boat, thankyouverymuch!

So don’t ever ask me where I’m from … because I don’t really know. However, I do have dual citizenship (which I think is pretty cool), and I can still bust out a British accent if needed. And according to my British passport, I am under Her Royal Majesty’s protection. Whatever that means.

Dad visits us every summer for about 3 weeks, so this year, my mom thought it would be fun to do a photo shoot (you know … since I carry around a camera all the time anyway).

I wrote on my Facebook that I had just shot my parents. With a camera. Somebody wrote back, “Did they make a noise? Haha.”

Actually, my mom ooohed and aaahed over my camera equipment. My dad just grunted the whole time because he was so uncomfortable. It was awesome.

Grunting or no, he did pretty good!