It was long and flat and triangular. If I were to describe it in precise terms, I'd say it was a very narrow 15-inch long speckled brown isosceles triangle.

I stared at it in utmost curiosity as I waited in line to order my mid-morning cup of hot chocolate. There it reposed, in a tall glass jar on the counter top, with many other speckled isosceles triangles nestled amongst a bunch of equally long bread sticks. Was it some type of biscuit? Some species of abnormally long nacho chip?

I took a closer look at the two labels on the jar. One read bread sticks, of course. The other read lavosh. I said it under my breath...lavosh...testing the feel of the word on my tongue. How exotic it sounded.

It was finally my turn at the counter. I smiled at Bonnie, who was manning the counter that day, and pronounced my usual order of hot chocolate, short.

"Would you like to try some of our new foodstuff, Stef?" Bonnie asked. "We have these really yummy donuts, or maybe you'd like to try the lavosh?" She pointed to the long triangles.

"What is it?" I asked. I should've known then that it was the wrong question. I don't think she could ever tell me what it is, only what it's made of or what it tastes like.

"It's good, and it's slightly spicy so there's a nice bite to it," she told me. See? She didn't really answer my question. Nevertheless, my curiosity was stirred enough for me to want to try one. So I bought one very long triangle -- for only 5 bucks, which made me happy. I ordered it to-go, and she looked at the long lavosh, not knowing how to wrap it. It didn't seem right to split that beautiful triangle in two somehow. In the end she had no choice; she broke it off in the middle and stuffed it into a paperbag.

Back at my desk. I unwrapped the so-called lavosh and gingerly bit into it. It was definitely not a nacho chip. But yes, it did taste like some sort of biscuit. And it was quite tasty. And rather spicy. Never trust people when they say something is slightly spicy. Chances are, it's spicier than either one of you thinks.

I have taken a liking to the tasty triangles however, and believe that I am in the early stages of lavosh addiction. But I still don't know what it actually is. How can one get addicted to something one can't even define, only describe? I finally resorted to one surefire way of finding answers to questions. I went to Google.

What is lavosh? It is a yeast-raised, unleavened Middle Eastern flatbread, also known as Armenian cracker bread, usually served as round (personally, i prefer the isosceles triangles), thin, crisp crackers, great with soup, and also used as ingredients for making popular Aram Sandwiches -- which I am not familiar with, by the way. If you're curious, Google it.

12 cuts - very few.

But... you'll get hooked with every track of the album you'd forget it's a short list.

Haunting. The band described their music as melodramatic; and as listener, it would never escape to you why their music is simply beautiful. Apart from the fact that they are the ones who penned their compositions, plus all of them originals, there is sincerity to their songs. Like a poet who has finally found and mastered the right tune to his poem.

Currently I am simply blown away with their third track - Blue Sky. I even posted it in my blog (See below). The song, when you get to listen to it talks about resilience; of how to move on from a deep pit and the hope that promises with it. Another one which I really like the most is Kung Mawala Ka. The choice is personal. There is a very sad undertone with this song, and rightfully so. It speaks of being left alone, and of regretting to let the love pass you by.

Needless to say, tracks like Broken Sonnet and The Day You Said Goodnight are monster hits. They - like others we often hear on the radio - have what it takes to smash a hit. Chart-topping. And definitely every household anthems. My ten-year old sister even knows how to croon the chorus with all the feelings in it.  

Take No and Wishing and Bent Down are exceptionally beautiful and strikingly melodious.

Okay here's the download. What sets them apart from other contemporary local bands is that they carry this in their songs. Substance.

This Christmas, while the rain is pounding hard on the roof, I got Hale playing on the airwaves. Ah, a beautiful way to spend a merry rainy christmas.

Last night I partook of a dish they call "Bicol Express." My poor tongue still burns.

I was, again, alone on a Friday night. After reading through an e-book of Dan Brown's Da Vinci Code, I was faced with one of the greatest dilemmas of my day: where to have dinner.

I contemplated taking a jeepney to Jollibee over at Mango Avenue, then remembered I had a hotdog sandwich and french fries for lunch. I didn't think I could stand the sight and smell of more fries. Well, there was Greenwich right beside Jollibee. I thought, Perhaps I'll have some pizza instead, or my favorite Wacky Wings. Hope they haven't run out of Java rice.

I stood at the curb, waiting, but there was not a single jeepney in sight.

Finally I decided to have my dinner at a nearby cafe, a mere 5-minute walk from where I was, and save myself a 6-peso fare.

I ended up eating a combo meal of grilled pork belly, softdrinks, and Bicol Express, at a place called Cafe Le Grand Soleil.

The incongruity of it struck me in the middle of my meal, and if it wasn't for the dim lighting, people would have wondered what was wrong with me snickering all by myself.

Imagine going to cafe with such a name, and ordering something that's so totally unrelated to that very name? Cafe Le Grand Soleil -- it shouts of carbonara and bolognese and more pasta -- but instead I went ahead and ordered a Filipino combo meal. If one eats at a cafe with such a grand name, one should at least order one of the grand items on the menu, any of their grand specialties. But what the heck, I'm a Pinoy, and Pinoys happen to love combo meals. Hehehe. =P

Well, it was on the menu, after all. A customer can choose what he wants to eat, however incongruous, as long as it's on the menu, aight?

Back to the Bicol Express. I knew there was a dish by that name, but I had actually forgotten what it was like. So here I go, asking the waitress, Unsa gani nang Bicol Express? (What's Bicol Express again?)

She goes, Ku-an, hang na siya (Well, it's spicy). Right. How very helpful, thank you very much. The only other dish I could exchange it with was cucumber salad, and I am not a big fan of cucumber (unless they're used to soothe eye bags). Plus, I like spicy food anyway.

So here comes my food. I stare at the so-called Bicol Express, squinting in the very subdued lighting. It looks like munggos (bean soup). Only, they seemed to be rather large munggo beans. I mixed it up with my spoon. They weren't munggo beans. They looked very much like loosely chopped green sili (pepper), you know those long ones you put in inun-unan (steamed fish...or is it stewed?)?

It can't be that spicy. I dumped a generous helping onto my rice and spooned a mouthful. It's freaking spicy as hell!

Well, to make this rather long story short, I survived the Bicol Express with a slightly burnt tongue and several funny thoughts in my head. My poor tongue, it got quite a baptism of fire. Literally.

...under construction... :D