An abnormally hectic Monday had dismissed all thoughts of my post-work activities - namely the arrival of Eric Nam on Canadian grounds.

​It was with considerable anticipation that my favourite fangirl (whose nickname  ̶m̶a̶y̶ shall change hereinafter) and I had purchased tickets to the Korean American singer-songwriter again. 

Since his last visit, I have been following his releases with technology as the greatest enabler. From the weekly drops of K-Pop Daebak to the monumental drop of Before We Begin, and then the release of I Think You're Dope, I can't help but marvel at the diversity of his content and, to an even greater degree, the sagacity of his character.

Alas, the entirety of the workday was to take place prior to any thoughts of leisure activities.
A certain prehistoric creature had returned from exile in Kingston at long last, thus a venture to Third Wave was undertaken.

Consistent with my initial visit, the cafe's bakery items were complemented perfectly with the shop's bitter-end, Yemen-derived beans, purposed into a Cortado and Flat White.

​Some five hours later, once OT labours had been carried out (and eyes were twitching from exhaustion), I boarded my Lyft to The Danforth Music Hall. Under normal circumstances, transit, by the unfortunate means of TTC, would have been my default option. However, given the lack of stability in my digestion system and fear of missing the start of the show, I opted for the swifter, ride-hailing service instead.

We all aspire for long weekends to be just a teensy bit longer, but, of course, that's just wishful thinking.
​
Escorted with a heavy dusting of snowy precipitation and countless delays across the commuter train network, the return to work was of utmost wretchedness.

The day was made milder with steadily climbing mercury levels and cocoa-containing treats from Impact Kitchen. Claiming to be one's "daily source of nourishment" for the body, mind, and soul. ​

Work days without a certain prehistoric creature feel off, almost unrewarding at times, especially considering my natural tendency to obtain two-person portions.

A walk to St. Lawrence commenced on a day of moderate climate. The trip was not aimless, though I did leisurely pop into Metro and the market just prior to the destination of highlight.

Third Wave at King and Church was the designated point of interest. A new café in the neighbourhood with a name nodding to the BTS of coffee origins, the quaint space was small powerhouse on a mission to deliver substantial quality.

​​A high ceiling, tall glass panes, and two forms of illumination yielded the impression of spaciousness - a clean, minimal design to summon organic thoughts, and a place for creative juices to flow freely. No more than several small tables surrounded a concrete pillar. Delicate pastries and a row of beans adorned one shelf, while bakery items were positioned in a separate display case.

The group had departed Zakkushi amidst zero-visibility snowfall, just to witness the absurdity of it to diminish overnight. Blue skies and amiable walking conditions greeted me in the downtown core the next day.

​With Valentine's Day around the corner, retailers were eager to take advantage of the situation, offering up quick, accessible solutions to fuel the occasion's flushing festivities.

​With Valentine's Day around the corner, retailers were eager to take advantage of the situation, offering up quick, accessible solutions to fuel the occasion's flushing festivities. From Union Station's two-day exclusive Hershey's Kisses pop-up to Enchanted Rose-inspired compositions in our very own lobby, it was nearly impossible to forget the looming lovers' holiday.

My week was more or less unvaried, with the exceptions of Cinnamon Toast Crunch (not a fan, by the way) and Maple Syrup French Toast Crunch (this was scrumptious!) "samples" from a certain prehistoric creature.

​A Vanilla Latte from Dineen's Commerce Court location provided a wonderfully fragrant boost to the Mon(dane)day. Additional features such as Ritual ordering, prompt, cordial service, and a password-secured Wi-Fi network further elevated the experience.

Read Part 1 HERE !

​A quick round of messages were exchanged, and the dinner destination was secured along Queen West.

​​Driving by, it was learned that VDL, Sanko and Sukoi were no more.

Zakkushi on Queen was quiet on a Sunday evening, mysteriously so. The gathering spot wasn't particularly large, though managed to seat diners in a manner that emanated a sense of roominess.
A small waiting area by the entrance, series of four-party tables along the walls, and a communal squoval table at the back assumed the layout of the narrow izakaya. Stone walls - or perhaps concrete with opaque, stone-like finishing - along with wooden furnishings and a classic-meets-concurrent bamboo ceiling embellishment. Wooden plaques bearing  the names of individual menu items also doubled as coat hangers, as we were so informed by staff.

​We perused the tri-fold menu while in wait of the second half of the party. Some items had been blocked off, indicating unavailability, though the assortment that remained was still vast enough to keep us content.
​
Once the group assimilated, the first round of orders was submitted to a bubbly waitress - a Japanese lady whose kindness permeated through her speedy utterances.

​Speaking from a personal perspective, oden is an dish more frequently associated with that of Taiwan than Japan, specifically in the regard of a convenience store staple. Zakkushi's 關東煮 was a welcome change from Korea's jalapeno-infused rendition: pierce-able segments of simmered daikon, sweet dashimaki, and chewy konnyaku submerged in a savoury, soothing broth was precisely what the weather had called for. In hindsight, the omelette square was darker and less eggy than anticipated, while the rigid slab of a "yam cake" was, more or less, flavourless. However, the daikon and basis of broth were more than sufficient in compensating these shortcomings.

Find the full album HERE !

​None of us had expected the Shishamo to be delivered as a single skewer serving. It was a delicious starter, with its surface grilled and even slightly charred. Internal components remained supple as well. Togarashi-dusted mayo was another noteworthy element on the plate. The only downside was the portion size.

View the full album HERE !

It remains a fact that the independent dessert shop upholds its reputation for churning out consistently heavenly handiworks.

Pilot was not far. Between a cold glass of milk for dunking freshly acquired cookies and the Beetroot Latte that had left such a strong impression, it was tough to waive an opportunity to re-experience the latter.

​Having been mesmerized by the extensive crafting counter and bevelled wall decor last time, I hadn't craned my neck upwards to take in the triangular ceiling design: a ceaseless collection of white paper airplane-like fixtures, likely to emulate the roastery's own logo.

​Feeling weak before the start of a new work week, I requested work-from-home privileges to recuperate. A certain prehistoric creature had assisted in stocking my hermitting hideout with Congee Queen, ginger, blanched choy sum, dried apricots, and countless other essential items, ensuring that sustenance would be present even in the face of an incessant pounding headache and staggering shifts in vision.

​My weekend could be condensed to congee containers, kale chips - which, when crumbled, serve as stellar homemade furikake - and the occasional bite of sugar.

​A portion of my Represent order arrived at my doorstep. In its footsteps followed Oyakodon (otherwise known as Chicken Donburi) and Chicken Katsu Don from Tomo Sushi, in addition to CoCo as the default pick-me-up. The evening wrapped up with the dismantling of my Christmas tree (at long last!!!) and my reluctant ingestion of a halved Extra Strength Tylenol.

​I made a timid return to the real world the next morning, 排包 in hand. Sweet, eggy white bread rolls are an item I hadn't sunk my teeth into for quite an extended period of time. The immediate reaction was, dare I say, euphoric.

​A mid-day Pilot run resulted in a Macchiato and Superfood Latte. The Union Station favourite offered up options of Turmeric and Beetroot, both bereft of caffeine in their original formula. My mind sought out a sense of perceptiveness, thus injecting a shot of espresso into the saffron-tinged creation.

I had high hopes for this concoction, for the coppery Beet edition from the Ossington standalone had attested to magnificence. Unfortunately, the mixture was more gritty than ideal and utterly lacking in ginger content. It suffices to say that Hestia still reigns in this department.

I owe many a restless night to our bipolar thermostat. Poor quality sleep has, unfortunately, been a regular occurrence as of late, and Parasite flashbacks hitting me at two thirty in the morning was the last thing I wanted.

Enter Monday with a vengeance for its too-short, two-day disappearance. I arrived at my desk to the marvelous sight of a Mocha from Pilot, along with a handful of snacks that a certain prehistoric had nabbed from the past weekend's Chinese New Year festivities.

The morning daze was gradually assuaged with the assistance of caffeine and sugar, and by lunchtime, I was ready for more exciting endeavours. Well, errands in disguise that later led to the discovery of an illegitimate Brown at UNIQLO. Despite its inauthenticity, the weighty figure brought joy nonetheless.

​The week then proceeded with more mid-day errand-running: fresh fruit to aid digestion and powdered effervescents to keep colds at bay.

​Having been denied of the drop-in zumba class last week, the arrival of Wednesday marked our redemption day.

The post-work plans commenced with tasty treats from Truscott Bakery, an Italian grocer within ten minutes of Clarkson (that I had, interestingly, never chanced across in all my years of commuting).

Far larger than I had imagined, the bakery offered a variety of breads, imported packaged goods, and even a small seating area for in-store consumption. A Buy 6 for No Tax Mix & Match sticky note was pasted at the corner of the pastry section, however I made a beeline for my two items of interest and swiftly maneuvered over to the checkout. This resolution was, regrettably, bulldozed by a supposed sale on ladyfingers. Two packs for $2.49 seemed reasonable in the moment; it wasn't until afterwards that I discovered  significantly more competitive prices.

Moral of the story: Think twice about checkout-side merchandise.

​As far as can be from a movie buff, there are admittedly a few instances where Cineplex is win to earn my hard-earned wages. 
Fabricated City, The Peanuts Movie, Deadpool 2, Crazy Rich Asians, Star Wars, Infinity War, and JOKER are a few titles that have succeeded in the swindling mechanism. Most recently watched was Frozen 2, which was a, surprisingly, great all-around production.

The movie commences in a dingy, dirty semi-basement lodging, where cockroaches are rampant and drunk, urianting men are frequent sights. A poverty-stricken family of four is seen struggling to make ends meet, anxiously hunting for a Wi-Fi signal to grab hold of potential work opportunities via Kakao Talk. (For improved relatability though, the English subtitles had been translated to read 'WhatsApp' instead of 'Kakao'.)

One of my first observations is the presence of a familiar face: Park So Dam. A stellar actress with an impressive track record, I was instantly excited for the remainder of the production upon witnessing her appearance as the daughter of the family. The son, whom possessed great resemblance to CIX's BX, was also oddly familiar, though I couldn't quite put my finger on the exact piece of work.

The tale starts out quite humourously, with the family arguing their way through incorrectly folded pizza boxes. It isn't until the family is graced with the presence of the son's friend - stony souvenir in hand - that their lives take an unexpected, debatably upward turn.
Crossing paths with and ultimately infiltrating an affluent household, the first hour showcases the quartet's deft conning capabilities. One by one, existing staff serving the family are ejected through staged traps; in turn, the family members are employed to fill these positions. The ordeal was witty and comedic, however the series of events possessed an underlying sense of anxiety that was difficult to pinpoint until the second hour rolled around.

Throughout the story, I paid little attention to the usage of stairs as a distinguishing tool of economic status. By contrast, I had been hoping that the stone souvenir would provide some sort of symbolism. It did not.
My immediate response to the gory final sequences was of distaste and confusion. I hadn't seen the need for such an extravagant escalation of events, though I must say that this concept is not foreign to regular K-Drama viewers. "The writers kind of just...gave up." was my immediate allegation.

​​Immediate afterthoughts consisted of confusion and absolute alarm at towards the vicious killings of the characters. The course had kept me engaged for majority of its run - an utter anomaly, might I declare - then cloaked in the comfort of my concert hoodie for the final fifteen minutes. Only following the review of other recaps was the ending depicted with greater clarity; notwithstanding the director's choice of portraying reality in the darkest, most pessimistic (practical) sense, the unpredictable murders were still overkill for me, especially in regards to the daughter. Park So Dam's character had shown the most compassion for the debt-ridden basement couple, with the mother in close second.

Social implications aside, I'd like to profess appreciation for the cinematography. While the filming style wasn't as creative as I would have liked, various camera angles/heights allowed the audience to grasp a better idea of the setting, further confirming the eerieness of the underground chambers and griminess of the destitute, sewage-flooded semi-basement.
​
A piece of work reflective of extreme income gaps around the world, Parasite was relatable but not particularly pivotal.

​Weekends these days are generally an extension of the regular work week, with the exceptions of errands replacing email correspondence and nonstop cooking in place of site visits. The 9-to-5 working hours hold consistent.

Sparse pockets of time are sometimes allocated towards baking projects, for the process enables creativity without fear of criticism for abandoning my post in the kitchen. Dried cranberries, raisins, and unsalted, roasted almonds had been obtained on the most recent grocery run, thus prompting the realization of Oatmeal Cookies.

An accidentally heavy handful of baking soda resulted in modest dryness, though the cookies remained suitable as a hearty breakfast item.
As an afternoon snack, it paired swell alongside the 8 Man English Pale Ale - a variety I had initially anticipated to prove as bitter as an IPA.

A quick round of cleaning took place before more errands. Oh, and hair-dying at home. For the very first time in my life.

The offer had been on the line for quite some time, but it wasn't until a certain prehistoric creature swung by to relieve me of my workload that the procedure properly materialized.
Consumed whilst awaiting the reveal of rose-tinged hair was Coffee Stout and a spice-laced cider gifted by my favourite fangirl.

Zero comments were extended towards my return to the real world with a mane of revived red. It was of no matter to me; I proceeded with my lunchtime excursions about the PATH for economical snacks, errands (yes, there is always more on the to-do list), and the Plant Positivity pop-up at Union Station.

​It's been an unusually quiet (gloomy?) time in the house thus far, and I was reminded of Chinese New Year festivities only upon observing the floral Shiseido tunnel at Hudson's Bay.

Mid-week undertakings were scheduled to take place by Eglinton West: research results for low-budget physical activity pointed in the direction of free drop-in classes at York Recreation Centre. And nearby just so happened to be Seara Bakery, a colleague recommendation for Portuguese egg tarts.

​Located in a sidewalk-less plaza near Keele and Lawrence, the bakery-café hybrid bore a great degree of similarity to SanRemo. That said, the seating area was roomier, significantly cleaner, and more pleasant overall. A double-sided laminated menu and napkin dispenser were positioned at every table; a cartoon-esque mural of the city adorned the south wall of the establishment

We took to sharing Crème Caramel as well as a single Nata - aka the primary purpose of the stopover.

Group activities are decidedly uncommon in my neck of the woods. So when a certain prehistoric creature extended an invite to a DIY sushi get-together with the promise of mahjong, I was more than thrilled to get going on the 401 early Sunday morning.

​The day prior could be summarized to outright helter-kelter: in between weekend work shifts were "grosho" runs, and in between those were intermittent preparatory procedures for gathering-ready baked goodies. Without a doubt, I was worn to the core by the end of my sixth workday, especially given that badminton and laundry were the customary terminal tasks of the day.

​Nonetheless, there was no shortage of enjoyment in presenting Chocolate Buttercrunch Cookies - made possible with the acquisition of fraktals from the Seasons Christmas Market at the table. 
Apple Pie and an impromptu Mixed Berry (with hidden marshmallows) also received astounding feedback.

After being acquainted with nigiri-wrapping and shari-tossing techniques, we cleared the table and proceeded with the next order of business: Mahjong, with a side of mild alcohol.

The rest of the group guzzled Asahi while I had my taste at MacKinnon Brothers' Red Fox Ale; it was, regrettably, bitter and not reminiscent of amber ale in the slightest.

​The Indian Roti House along Queens Quay was visited for a quiet weekday lunch, with our roti ordered online in advance for pickup.

A Mango Chicken Curry Roti - made mild (with special instructions for further mildness) - was shared amongst a party of two. Presented in an aluminium foil tin was a rectangular parcel, and within it a sweet-savoury mix of tender chicken bites and occasional strands of spinach. Its cloying properties were likely owed to canned mango concentrate, which yielded a degree of sugariness that would have paired optimally with higher notches of spice. Nonetheless, it was a highly enjoyable dish and ideally portioned for two.

The pick-up process was swift and effortless; the hair net-donning cashier was also incredibly amiable.