JACQUIE OTAG: Dining | Lutong Pinoy

I have a terrible, terrible habit. That habit being, no matter what I order to eat when at a restaurant/food market/pop up stall/any other achingly hipster eating outlet, if I'm with another person, I WILL eat their food (poor sod). Maybe it's being raised as an only child, but I cannot cope with watching someone enjoy something without wanting to wade in head first and join ... it's beyond food envy and is probably (definitely) bloody annoying. This is where communal dining pretty much saves the day: I get to eat all the things without inciting the wrath of my eating buddy and nobody gets food envy. Win.

So when my lovely friend suggested we try Filipino restaurant, Lutong Pinoy in Earl's Court, I was definitely down.

Glorious. We ordered talapia, pork, beef and chicken, and it came beautifully laid out on a banana leaf on a bed of rice, and granished with sweet mango chunks and refreshing cucumber. Honest to God, all of us were stunned into silence when it came out.

The food is traditionally eaten with the hands, which we were totally happy to do. Coming from a Nigerian household, eating with my hands was no biggie at all, and it made grabbing food much more simple.

I didn't enjoy the fish too much, as I like my talapia spicy, but I loved everything else. The chicken was tender, the pork full of flavour and the beef just right. You can opt for the fork option if you don't want to end up with rice going all over you - I ended up with rice grains in my bra.

Once we got over the awesomeness of the food (ugh), conversation turned to what most twentiesomethings like obsess over. We complained about intrusive parents, annoying colleagues, misbehaving ex/potential boyfriends. We laughed about everything under the sun, all the while glugging down the suspiciously affordable wine.

My precious friend is in love. She glows and it's so beautiful to see.

We parted ways at 11ish, deciding it was a schoolnight, so it would be damn irresponsible to stay out any longer. I'm still not used to sleeping before 1am, even though I get up at 7am for work. I should worry about not getting enough sleep, right? According to those ads on telly, women who don't get enough sleep will have to spend 45% of their income after their 30s on time-reversing anti-wrinkle potions. I'll risk it.