Love is patient . . .

We are expecting Sophia to arrive at 1800 hr today.

John said I've been clucky ever since we gotten the green light for the adoption to go ahead. WTH, it's a bit like the pot calling the kettle cluck, I mean black.

Admittedly I dragged my feet over well-meaning friends' advice to "get another one" ever since we lost Dotty. I keep thinking - if we go ahead with "another one", we will leave Dotty behind. And eventually forget her. I just can't do that.

Sophia's adoption is a bit nasip - the Malay word for fate. We were yakking with our neighbour one fine day last week and before we knew it I was on the web and a few clicks later, John was talking to Sophia's human mom and before we could spell Shipperke, Sophia was ours! I suppose we were waiting for the right moment without knowing it. John and I are just not cut out to be empty-nesters, I guess.

cluck, cluck.

Now, what has all these got to do with the African violet you see below? Well, a year and a bit ago, I was ooh-ing over my sis-in-law's African Violet at her home when she deftly plucked a leaf and thrust it at me, saying :"There you go!" I took the leaf home, stick it in pot (with soil, of course) and waited for it to grow.

I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And for a long time, nothing happened. Zilch, zero, not a sausage.

And then . . . one fine day . . .

. . . . a growth!

I was so happy and wore a grin the whole day long, that is until John came home, took a look at it, and wiped my grin off with a cruel, " it's a weed, dear". He didn't know it then, but John was this close to being chopped into pieces . . .

With a heavy heart, I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And one fine day, the bona fide growth happened and . . . .

. . . . more and more leaves appeared. And then more and more leaves appeared.

. . . And for the longest time, there was just that - LEAVES.

Leaves, leaves and more leaves . . . @#$% . . . and I was beginning to entertain the idea of "give up" . . .

And guess what happened?

This morning, when I looked, there is a little shy flowering bud starting to unfurl . . .

I am so fucking happy.

I know the picture is not the best but at least you get the idea. And call me silly, superstitious, whatever . . . I believe this is a sign of our blossoming relationship with Sophia.

I do.

And here she is, Sophia.

Yiamas!

Two weeks ago, John spotted an ad for Yiamas Greek Taverna in the Sydney Star Observer, and decided to give it a go. 

Getting there was a bit of an adventure having forsaken our TomTom and relying on basic (human) instinct. We nearly missed Yiamas on our approach, if not for a Yiamas-sponsored banner "advising" us to park our vehicle across the road, at Sydney Park to be precise. Naturally we didn't follow that sort of advice, we are not good at taking instructions and instead found a spot round the corner, on Applebee Street. 

A short stroll and a brief hello to a Dalmatian later, we find ourselves standing in front of Yiamas, a very blue-aqua looking taverna. The place is immense and I wondered briefly how will they ever fill the place to keep it profitable. The tables (black in colour, I suspect, since the chairs are in black) are covered with white table cloth overlaid with a piece of heavy-duty clear plastic sheet, and packed in a canned sardine-like configuration. Hence no privacy in conversation, and you will have to shout down your neighbours in order to have yourself heard but I guess that is Greek dining for you - nosy and noisy. 

I have to admit I am not a huge fan of Greek cuisine and only because I have no knowledge of the cuisine so I was emboldened to let my fellow dining kakis (legs in Malay-speak, companions in Anglo-speak) seize full control and made the order. 

What do you think? Did they do well? I think they did. 

The calamari is top class; the batter feathery light in texture and singed with just a hint of (oceanic?) saltiness, enveloping the tenderly soft calamari meat. The dips are surprisingly ordinary but really you can't go wrong with these as long as you have warm pita bread, which as you can see we had plenty. Thank goodness the establishment didn't try to bull us with the claim that the dips were "home-made". The best performer on our dining table will have to be the kondosouvli, we have both pork and chicken which were delectably smoky and sinfully salty. Nonetheless I thought this dish should have been served with roast potatoes instead of fries although my dining kakis have no qualms with the fries. Peasants. And yes, we did have a bottle of Kleoni to helps us wash down the grub.

Of course we couldn't finish the food so I had a small parcel taken away for Dot, our darling Schipperke at home. And judging from the groups that came in threes, fours, sevens, and even elevens, I am convinced you have to be in a group of at least three in order to enjoy Greek food. So, yes go check out Yiamas Greek Taverna and who knows you might just be rubbing shoulders with me as I shoot the kondosouvli and other Greek goodies, with my iPhone. Once a blogger, always a blogger.

Yiamas! (pronounced yah-mas, meaning cheers!)

Yiamas Greek Taverna

1/5 Princes Highway

St Peters NSW 2044

+61 (02) 9517 9492