​No inveracities are told when I describe this past month as being a cyclonic roar of errand-running, job-hunting, and backlog-clearing, with smidgens of hangout sessions somehow wedged in between. At this point, I can't seem to recall a time when eight hours of sleep were garnered effortlessly, or when returning home after dusk meant watching GOT7 instead of working on my endless batch of images.

It would be an understatement to say that I had overestimated my abilities to properly function after several hours of mental strain. One can only hope that by restraining curiosity, and consequently restricting the number of adventures around the GTA, that personal and social harmony can be attained in the upcoming summer months.

As always, here are my visuals for the past thirty-one days - primarily of food but with the occasional fangirl content.

​1) Laneige - Multiberry Yogurt Repairing Mask
Recently introduced into my skincare routine, this sweet, scented formula is not to be neglected after slathering on deep cleansing and purifying clay masks. The creamy consistency and soothing properties render it suitable for almost all skin types.
I initially obtained a miniature sample of the product via Sephora's point redemption system, but its rapid repairing traits soon convinced me to purchase the full-sized product after two weeks of being without it. The sleek round pot of riches is essentially indispensable now.

​2) COBS Bread
Nothing quite tickles my fancy as a customary croissant of satisfying flakiness with a breviloquent aftertaste of butter. de la terre's warm bakery goods may be my top choice while frequenting the region of Halton, however COBS offers the closest comparison in terms of quality, and at a much closer proximity too. Service has also been superb during most visits.

​3) Dropping a visit at New Balance's Upper Oakville location amidst the evening rush
4) Homemade Lattes and Cold Brew served with classic Korean snacks
5) Matters, specifically a Frankenfrap recreation, are taken into one's own hands when cravings make their presence and Frappy Hour hasn't yet commenced

6) Produce 101 Season 2
The currently airing season of the trainee survival show is undeniably a hot topic amongst groups of all ages. It isn't particularly difficult to understand why the audience is primarily comprised of female viewers; the media has enabled these talented boys looking for an outlet to show their skills to gain exposure to both national (Korean) citizens in addition to overseas K-Pop fans. Mnet is far from an unbiased channel, but given that it is one of the largest and most established, little can be done from point of a mere spectator.

​As opposed to drawing light to the rumoured "evil editing", I'd like to introduce my two favourites of the season: Fantagio's Ong Seungwoo and MMO's Kang Daniel.
Incredibly skilled at dance and articulating memorable facial expressions, neither could be more suited to performing on stage.

​I am ineligible to vote as a foreign fan, but nevertheless will continue supporting them on their journey to stardom!

(Side: Totally unimpressed am I that Woo Jinyoung and Park Seungwoo were eliminated in the May 26th airing.)

7) Mid-week Pick-Me-Ups:

• Roasted Milk Tea w/ Grass Jelly and Coconut Jelly + Roasted Tea w/ Coconut Jelly from CoCo
• The renowned Vanilla Cone from good ol' McD's
• Mango sticky rice in coconut milk
• Homemade Matcha Latte
• Homemade Grapefruit hallabong ade
• Cold Brew + Triple-Baked Cheese Tart for breakfast

​I finally had the opportunity to meet up with my favourite fangirl for a much-needed catch-up session, and one of the very topics of discussion was selecting restaurants on the basis of whether atmosphere/price point would agree with the corresponding dining partner(s). As I, the one with too many opinions, am generally situated in a position of decision-making, it is my sworn duty to match up the correct auras, cuisine category, and budgets of those that grant me permission to drag along my journeys.

​Goldstar Café is located in Downtown Oakville, an area near Oakville GO that combines an assortment of local and international retails shops, bakeries, and cafés. The vicinity comprises mainly of residential areas and the odd church, thought the GO Transit carpool lot isn't too far away either.
Expansion of the parking building had been taking place as we weaved our way from the QEW, through the quiet single lane streets, and the chaos of one-way streets whose signs were camouflaged by transport trucks and utility vehicles; it made the drive needlessly more complicated than Google Maps had intended.

​In comparison to Streetsville, it offers wider pathways and sidewalks, brick buildings with tall ceilings, and an added dose of vibrancy. The Oakville BIA is only two regional train stops from Port Credit, Mississauga's entertainment-filled waterfront, yet it retains an entirely different vibe. Shops are more scattered, the waterfront view involves a bit more walking, and the absence of the Credit River and lighthouse are apparent; visitors of downtown Oakville were observed to have a higher average age than the Port Credit crowd.

​Parking is yet another issue to be noted with diligence. Whether east or west, Lakeshore Road in itself presents a parking nightmare for many. While Port Credit lands automobile users in a similar scenario, the situation is not as dire with the availability of an open lot outside the library. Free parking is nowhere to be found near downtown Oakville, even if any of the city's libraries, community centres, or churches in sight house a private lot.
The surrounding area either comprises of residential lots for tenant parking, or paid pieces of asphalt and confined, metered slots.
Evaluated on a scale of frustration, securing a spot is equally, if not more, annoying as Port Credit, and departing is only slightly less hectic than exiting Queen Street (and all its narrowness) in Streetsville. A local informed me afterwards that free parking was essentially nonexistent in the area, as the added travel fees were intended to deter citizens from residing too leisurely and improve congestion levels.

An alternative choice was to park at the Oakville GO station and walk over. This would have permitted an excuse to explore the nearby establishments, however, neither of us were wearing proper walking shoes. The construction of the parking building also posed some degrees of confusion.

​There was surprisingly spacious seating for an eatery in the heart of the Oakville BIA. Sleek white walls and uniformly-toned seat covers created a relaxing atmosphere, while the frequent positioning of potted plants and colourful cushions encouraged the flow of creative juices.

Around noon on a quiet Tuesday afternoon are shift dress-donning ladies on business lunches, laidback laptop users, and retired residents in casual attire. (We may or may not have been the youngest duo of diners occupying the space during the time.)

The Wi-Fi connection was strong and secured, outlet ports were adequate, and natural lighting was abundant.

​The entire café comprises of three "floors" and an outdoor patio, complete with wide white umbrellas whose ruffled hem swung with the movement of the wind.
On the ground floor was a front-facing area with bar stools and a slender white table. Adjacent to this was a shelf of merchandise, which ranged from Reunion Island roasts to the café's very own sleepy duckling mascot and minimalist gold-eared ceramic mugs.

​A lengthy cashier and preparation area spanned the remainder. Of course, it couldn't be devoid of a fully-equipped condiment bar (complete with lemon water), and two individual washroom stalls towards the back. The insides of these stalls housed electric jet dryers, automatic toilets operating at high efficiency, as well as an environmentally sustainable lighting system; after one to two minutes of inactivity/movement, all bulbs would extinguish automatically.

I was quite appreciative of the implementation of this technology, as it not only conserved energy but also eliminated the need to be in contact with the light switch on one's way out, thus limiting possible risks of contamination should the previous occupant not have washed his or her hands.
A light dusting of negligence lined the toilet paper dispenser and hand dryer, sacrificing the uniform sophistication of the environment.

It should be remarked that a malfunctioning soap dispenser was found in the second, and only other available, stall for customer use. Otherwise, I had no complaints.

​The first and second floors were allocated to commodious dining spaces in the form of round booths and sleek, white tables with comfy cloth-covered chairs. Group tables were aplenty on the first floor, while parties of two could find ample spots on the second, centred around a communal table for large gatherings. Separating the first floor and ground level was a short flight of stairs; the second was distinctly differentiated with a longer flight of wooden stairs that included a landing platform for making a sharp right-angle turn.

View the full album HERE !

​Uncommon is it that I proclaim the need for a scheduled hair appointment. The mere snipping procedure is deemed pricey by many, and I am no exception.

I sought out Salon de Elephant initially, for I was intrigued by their combined cafe and cut services. As luck would have it, their first slot was already taken when I attempted to book four days in advance. Prices for junior stylists weren't budget-friendly either.
Miss Rushka had mentioned NC Salon for her pink-purple dye job, so I contacted their North York location. Equally steep prices and unavailabilities for the Saturday morning appointment prevented me from booking yet again.

SORA in Koreatown had provided a satisfying experience previously, so I opted to take my business there, even though it was kilometres further from my original choice of location.

​The stylist that my friend had recommended had been taken for the morning, but there was an option for whichever employee happened to be unoccupied at that time. I took it with wariness.

Seven minutes early for my scheduled slot, I popped into Put A Cone On It for cookies and a cozy pick-me-up. A tasty Chocolate Oatmeal Cookie and Rosetta-topped latte eased the effects of sleep deprivation slowly.

I was ushered immediately to a salon chair upon arrival; the stylist wore a blank, listless expression and a medium-long bob (a "lob") of copper. She seemed extremely eager to wrap up the process, directing my belongings to be stashed away in a deep cupboard and preparing the plastic apron before even bothering to take my outerwear.

​Trimming split ends and evening out odd strands isn't tremendously challenging, but she seemed confused at my request to straighten the layers, even furrowing her brows in judgment. Few words were exchanged as she snipped away the centimetres.
I was taken to the hairwashing station mid-cut, then taken back when she confidently sliced away fragments of soaking wet hair. She didn't inquire whether I wanted the cut styled at the end, nor did she bother with heat protectant until I inquired so. In under forty minutes, I had received a decent cut, but an incomplete blowdry job and unnecessarily rushed appointment.

While my head is now free of scraggly bits and split ends, I wish the matter was carried out in a more enjoyable fashion.

​A little over an hour remained until I had plans to show my face at Anime North.

The coveted Juniper coaster from hanji (finally) made its way into my bag. Sarah and Tom's was browsed. Parking was found.

​Apiecalypse Now was a spot I had been eyeing for some time now, so it only made sense to test out the vegan pizza joint with an excuse for lunch. Alas, its operating hours did not align with our schedule, and we were regrettably left to fend for our stomachs at other eateries along Bloor, many of which had committed DineSafe infractions.

As the final decision lay with me, I chose Big Tuna. Instead of their trademark poke bowls though, I pointed towards a smaller item on their menu: the Musubi Bowl. Three pieces of pan-seared Spam found their way on top of zucchini noodles (for their white rice hadn't been ready yet) seasoned with ponzu sauce and wasabi cream.
​
The girl behind the cashier, who bore a strangely similar appearance to Emily the Strange (without bangs) for her pin straight black locks and pale complexion, was outwardly apologetic that many of the ingredient weren't available yet. She was gushingly friendly, and even offered to top the bowl with taro chips in addition to crispy seaweed bits and wasabi peas.

​The bowl was honestly more filling than it appeared, which meant that surviving till 5 PM shouldn't have been an issue.

​Anime North was already a bustling neighbourhood of colour, armour, and swords. For reasons beyond me, a substantial section of the TCC parking lot had been reserved for members attending an event led by the Conservative Party of Canada, further complicating the pre-existing parking mayhem. 

​Finding myself amidst a crowd of eager cosplayers and enthusiastic photographers, I was overcome with the realization that the scene no longer retained the same appeal as when I had first landed on its heat-stricken grounds four years ago. I haven't laid eyes on anime in a long time, neither can I guarantee that I will in the near future. Impending adulthood means greater responsibilities and lengthier time commitments to non-leisure activities. The K-Pop fangirl within me is already suffering from lack of sleep and attention, let alone the interests of lesser priority.

One can view my condensed album of this year's Anime North HERE (once updated). It remains in the air whether I'll still make the strenuous efforts to attend next year though.

The day ended in reiterated gratification and apologies towards my chauffeur, and a trip to CoCo.

​May's monthly specials of Sago Milk Tea and Black Tea Macchiato weren't really my cup of tea (no pun intended), so Mango Green Tea and 3 Guys were chosen instead.

Hopefully June will introduce a better selection.

​One hundred percent satisfaction is nearly impossible to attain when dining out. Hence, whenever an establishment capable of satisfying ninety percent of my requirements, I make a note to introduce it to those closest to me.

Despite that my first visit to Hub had occurred on a very late Monday evening (and after a half-day in Kensington followed by the intensest of karaoke sessions no less), not a single shred of satisfaction had been sacrificed.

​Specifically due to this reason, both ochungg and I vowed to bring our families to share our enlightenment. While she returned within four days, probably due to a residence of closer proximity, and remained equally elated, it took me a total of twenty five days before the suitable opportunity arose.

​Despite the impending need to be in Oakville later in the day, the unfulfilled duty of obtaining a Coffee Cheesecake loomed over my head. I had also surrendered the new formulation of Cheese Tarts previously too.
After making a quick stopover at Yorkdale (the Peanuts-themed slippers were sold out in my size), we continued through tiny, curving paths to Thornhill.

​The parking lot was primarily empty at 11:45 AM, and ample seating remained inside the restaurant. Natural light was abundant throughout, especially if seated next to the window.

A duo of sushi chefs and a young Korean man with brown, wavy hair greeted us upon entry. Only two other parties had been seated at this point, so the option of choosing a well-lit table remained open to us. Likely the only member of staff managing the floor (and the youngest member of the day's team), he dropped two menus with red covers before returning to the cashier to punch in takeout orders. The lime green image menu (or "scrapbook") was nowhere to be found during lunch hours.

View the full album HERE !

​Can you tell that I'm exhausted? My 574s have seen more concrete with utility markups than my driveway in the past week, yet my trips have only been prolonged this weekend to make up loss hangout time with friends.

Orangecane recently returned from her grand journey in Europe, so we decided to unite for conversations over - you guessed it - lots of food.

​Getting together on a statutory holiday generally means heading downtown, as majority of the retailers and restaurants still remain in operation, but with shortened hours. We settled first on Spot, a cute little space along Spadina that offered sweet and savoury crepes at reasonable prices.
Quite frankly, I wanted Hibiscus, but Mondays mean closures for the renowned vegan eatery. A quick search of the area persuaded us in the direction of this alternative, which also carried milk teas and "luxury" loose leaf teas at varying prices in individual cups or medium-sized pots. Instead of herbal teas though, fruit smoothies and slushies seemed to be the most popular choice amongst the other diners.

Sauntering up the sloped entrance, we were greeted with a smile and gestured a nearby table. Double-sided menus and a list of teas were soon slipped underneath our noses.

​The drink choices were intriguing, and quite affordable too, but both of us opted to save room for the other destinations on our minds. While I was craving caffeine in the form of lattes, orangecane had her heart set on one spot and one spot only: Kung Fu Tea.

After briefly evaluating of our hunger levels, we placed our savoury crepe orders of Spicy Chicken and Salad Nicoise. The latter was a lighter choice packed with spring mix and a hard-boiled egg for protein. Other components included canned tuna, a spoonful of sweet corn kernels, and a minimal amount of mayo.
The crepe was thin and chewy, emitting an eggy essence. It wasn't as aromatic as Crepe de licious or Cafe Crepe (from what I can remember anyway) and even had a certain bitterness to its slightly burnt centre. The edges weren't wispy thin nor crisp either, but nonetheless, I enjoyed it. The tuna bits could have used a tad more seasoning, but the overall product was satisfying enough for my appetite.

The Spicy Chicken, as I was informed, contained a spicy sauce along with shredded chicken and bacon, retaining an overall mildness.​

​Two middle-aged ladies circulated the cozy space, striding between the kitchen at the back of the shop, the crepe griddles, cashier area, and the floor. Neither of them donned uniforms, nor aprons; one was evidently older and had owner-like vibes.

​FOMO is informaly defined as "fear of missing out" - an abbreviation for the anxiety experienced when one is excluded from a social activity and where absense becomes directly linked with peer pressure.
Few and far between are situations that I can claim FOMO for; as opposed to converging a pack and following the same sequence of actions as others would adhere to during their stay, I tend to enjoy investigating the reasons for their visits much more.

Shops at Don Mills isn't a tremendously large space, yet it has appeared over and over again on my feeds, revealing romatic streams of bulb lights during dusk and vibrant umbrella arrangements on spring days. A solid four to six weeks have passed since I first pestered a friend to accompany (read: act as my chauffeur), but conflicting schedules and a potential overseas move halted this.

​Come mid-May, I finally convinced another friend of mine to drive out to the suggested destination. We embarked on a much-needed girls' day out, which really hasn't happened since the horrible snow/rain-storm in February. 

Majority of the nearby neighbourhoods were residential according to Google, so we decided to explore the lunch options inside the plaza once a parking spot was secured. When JOEY was ruled out for high occupancy levels, we made a beeline for Taylors Landing across the street.

Conveniently located outside the central square of Shops, the restaurant was a part of The Landing Group Bar Grill Hub chain, with a certain Taylor (or Taylors?) possessing ownership of the franchise.

​An intricate network of orange-tinged bulbs made for a gorgeous glow during daytime hours (and predictably stunning bokeh come nightfall). Near the entrance, specifically at the hostess's reception area, was a "Landing Cure" Caesar, placed ever so strategically to coax customers inwards with their Clamato cravings.

The patio was closed due to heavy rain and medium-high winds, but there remained an abundance of seating inside. Such spots ranged from bar stools for prolonged conversations with the bartender (or drinking company), booths for intimate gatherings, and communal tables for large parties.

​We arrived in time for brunch, allowing us to pick from the special selection of mid-morning munchies as well as the regular lunch menu.
Our server, who appeared shortly after we were seated by the hostess, was an awfully friendly entity whose ability to offer informed recommendations, answer acute questions, and maintain smooth flow of conversation impressed me as much as it stunned me. He was a talkative soul with a bounty of knowledge and experience. It seemed apparent that he had resided with the Taylors Landing team since the beginning, which consequently paved the way for carrying conversations with ease and providing sufficient detail regarding menu items and kitchen operations. (Names have been omitted for privacy purposes, but the first letter is interchangeable with one of the aforementioned descriptions.)

Perhaps the crowds had been deterred by the grey skies, or perhaps it was the second-last day of long weekend, but the environment wasn't very busy. This was likely the reason why our server was able to thoroughly provide answers to my questions and even step aside from his regular duties to assist in napkin-holding (ie. light-reflecting). Regardless, these actions were commendable and left a lasting impression on me. I was aware that the scenario would have undoubtedly changed in a busier atmosphere.

​My dining partner chose the Chicken & Waffles from the brunch menu, and I the Herb & Citrus Chicken Club.

​For tourists, the area is the prime location for local restaurants, artisan ice cream, and a waterfront view. For locals, it is the be-all and end-all of parking catastrophe.
​
Port Credit is notorious for being busy during the summer months, especially come time for the Buskerfest and the Mississauga Waterfront Festival. Despite such a pleasant waterfront stroll lying so close to home, the congestion on Hurontario and horrendous state for parking cause the trip to be a weary mission on its own.
Library parking fills up quickly, which pushes restaurant-goers and harbourfront explorers to cram their vehicles into meter-enforced spots along Lakeshore. Arriving early (on a weekday especially) is usually the key to avoiding traffic Hwy 10 and securing a (free) parking spot within reasonable walking distance.

​El Jefe's decor is unlike the rest: the patio is covered and colourful, wall murals are exotic and multi-toned, and interior features high ceilings and skull-themed ornaments. It had stood out from its competitors long before I had fallen prey to the lure of its aesthetic properties and positive remarks from friends.

​ set out to verify my acquaintances' claims, to determine whether the Mexican spot was as "overhyped" as Yelpers had depicted, and to satisfy my own curiosity.
While I was essentially set on sharing an appetizer, and perhaps a main or two, my dining partner was having none of it. Her ill state brought about total bitterness, regardless of the situation. Sitting on the patio was "too chilly", the menu options were "too greasy", and her overall demeanour just encumbered our server. I hadn't been informed of this condition prior to planning, and was absolutely frustrated that I was confronted with a sick soul that not only overturned my morning routine, but wanted no part in this meticulously-scheduled get-together.

My spirits plummeted, though personal efforts were made to salvage the remainder of the visit. Gas had been surrendered and parking had already been secured; "No further opportunities shall be lost" was my rationalization.

​We arrived only a few minutes after their operating hours had commenced, meaning that the restaurant was largely vacant and seating choices were plenty. The interior was as dim as the view inside a closed cardboard box, only slightly brighter than a dark room or haunted house. Several spotlights and a rectangular light fixture were positioned on the lofty ceiling, though minimal illumination was provided.

The patio, which could comfortably thirty plus occupants, was my pick. Sitting along the edge instead of the bar stools provided a clear view of the colourful mural while dining.

​There was no real purpose for my review of the list of signature cocktails, for driving prevented even the teensiest intake of alcohol. Luckily, mocktails were available for mojitos, caesars, margaritas, and bloody marias.

My Virgin Mojito, priced substantially less than its alcohol-infused counterpart, was refreshing with muddled mint leaves and an adequation amount of carbonation. It maintained the fizziness of ginger ale without the rupturing aftereffects. Ice cubes were of standard size and portion, unlike the excessive amount witnessed at Planta; in addition, it did not cause the beverage to turn watery.
The beverage was undeniably more acidic than anticipated, which actually made for a pleasant surprise. Lime, once again, made an appearance in the form of a citrusy garnish.

View the full album HERE !

No one enjoys waiting, at least not the vast majority of our increasingly impatient population anyway. While there are those that appreciate the brief pockets of time at the doctor's office for quiet self-reflection, I personally consider those periods to be lost productivity. The same applies to being stuck in congested traffic, or other similar situations that render one helpless and stationary.

It was precisely this sheer hatred for all things inefficient that spurred my current career choice. Needless to say, the passion easily transitions into pure disgust towards restaurants that refuse reservations, or those that boast incredulous wait times.

At least three of my peers expressed shock and disbelief when I brought up how I had never been to Mildred's Temple Kitchen. Although easily accessible by both regional and local transit, a suitable occasion simply never arose.
When Miss Rushka inquired about a place I had been wanting to visit, I relayed this desire for brunch, to which she responded ever so ecstatically.

​Perhaps we were in the wrong for choosing to visit the spot on Mother's Day weekend, for once I arrived, the wait was estimated to be between one hour and forty-five minutes to two hours. Having surrendered not only sleep but my morning cup of joe as well, the 120-minute wait prompted us to launch Plan B.

A short walk away was School - our "backup" spot. Unlike Mildred's demure - or rather, obscured, location in the corner of Liberty Village, the restaurant maintained a strong presence that was easily identifiable in a concrete lot of line paintings and commercial buildings.
The image gradually came into view with each advancing step: against coppery red brick were five bold, black letters, complete with shadow and shading. An outdoor patio was available at the front; two dining areas could be found shielded by a mechanical garage door on the inside.

​We joined the lineup of five people and trudged through the entrance as the hostess noted down their names, party size, and phone number (for text notifications). The hostess, whose duties were equally as hectic as the girl at Mildred's, adopted a different manner when she attended to guests. Even amidst the chaos, she was pleasant and cheerful, even offering nods and cracking a tiny smile from time to time.
She informed us that a party of two was in for a wait spanning between forty-five minutes to an hour. This did not quite align with my dining philosophy whatsoever, and far exceeded the acceptable waiting time for a standard meal. Yet, it was still a gigantic difference from our first brunch pick. Hence we waited it out, chatting away on one of the few benches that was devoid of droppings near the restaurant.

​The text notification arrived exactly at the sixty-minute mark. We were ushered inwards, past the greasy fumes of the open kitchen, and gestured towards a two-person table at the edge of the booth seats.
One glance told me that space for storing my three bags would be limited in this arrangement. I carefully asked the man who had led us if it was possible to take the adjacent four-person table instead, and shift the extra seats down. Given the atmosphere, I had anticipated a brisk "No" to my request, but he replied in the affirmative and was more than willing to accommodate my request.

A deep red apple was placed on each lacquered wooden table. Menus were presented on clipboards with alligator clips. Light fixtures were surrounded with elementary and secondary school-level assignments/readings. Beverages and sauces were measured out in beakers to the milligram. A series of clocks were arranged on the lofty brick wall behind us. Regardless of the direction I cast my gaze, the academic vibes were everywhere; the thoroughness of the themed decor was stunning, actually.

Our server acknowledged us almost immediately upon being seated, introducing herself as well as the daily specials with swiftness and conciseness.

View the full album HERE !

< Pictured above and below: Lychee Cactus Pear Mimosa and Blood Orange Juice >​

Beverages and Pan-Fried Hashbrowns with Jalapeño Sour Cream were ordered to commence the meal. The juice of the day - Lychee Cactus Pear - had piqued my interest immensely. In combination with sparking wine, the resulting mimosa was fruity and laced with a sweet alcoholic bitterness. Blood orange juice was invigorating and zesty, but could have done without the discernible amount of added sugar. Juices were served in 250 ml beakers, while mimosas in smaller cocktail glasses. The latter rang in at a mere four loonies more.

If you could only ask a genie for three wishes, what would you ask for?
"I'd ask for more wishes!" would be the answer of the witty child confronted with this question.

Clever-sounding at first, the idea of an endless supply of wishes will only deplete their novelty with the passing of time. As a kid, I truly believed that the point of the story was not to unleash one's inner greed, but to acknowledge that all things carried sacrifices.

You cannot have your cake and eat it too. You ought to contemplate carefully and choose wisely.

Should my present self be granted three unconditional wishes, the most probable choices would be: health (amongst my family as well as myself), financial stability, and social stability (harmonic interrelationships).
I may have also wished to have never made the intrepid step into the chaos that was Wish (though not necessarily use up one wish to attain this).

​The restaurant in itself was a mistake, from the awkward all-white setup in the middle of a neglected side street to the makeshift patio and "fake" door. All aspects lacked clarity, regardless of the location of the entrance (Where was the signage?), reception area, or washrooms. The incoming flow of traffic was disruptive, heavily contributive to noise pollution, and ill-managed beyond belief. With ambiguously defined access/egress points, as well as a depressing square of a fountain situated smack dab in front of the doorway, it was as if the mere thought of planning had been shoved to one side.

For reasons why customers enter through an already tightly-seated patio area and towards the bar area before reaching any member of staff is beyond my comprehension. Neither can I fathom why a tiny slot was allotted to two dim single stall bathrooms with an absence of basic toiletries. It wasn't only the paper towels, tissues, and toilet paper that were missing - it was the ability to relieve oneself in a clean, comfortable environment. The waiting area was cramped, the door lock dysfunctional, and the stalls lined needlessly with begrimed pink tulle "curtains" and a rusty, horror film-esque mirror.
A peek into the vacant guy's stall to check for paper towels also informed me of the nonexistent toilet. Urinals are fine for quick business, but it was ridiculous to think that a proper plumbing system hadn't been installed for defecation possibilities.

​Perhaps I have gotten ahead of myself with such a grotesque description. But to be frank, the dining environment wasn't a whole lot better.

Between the three possible seating locations (outside the washrooms, outside the bar, or in the makeshift patio), the third was the sole option that provided any shred of illumination. Partially enclosed and equipped with a rather flimsy door, the exposure also revealed whatever flaws, blemishes, defects, or hasty faults resided with it.
Stained cushions, peeling wooden frames, consolidated layers of dust bunnies, and grimy-looking sofa covers were amongst us. Flipping through a sticky menu was simply made worse with the discovery of heavily tarnished cloth napkins. (With food this pricey, one ought to think that management could afford bleach for these instances.)

My dining partner and I arrived a short while after opening hours, with a reservation for the first time slot. Given the initial emptiness of the diner, I had anticipated steady service and skillful time management. With the arrival of an unpredictable Friday lunch rush, our server's capabilities were put to the test.

​Our orders were taken in a reasonable time frame, and drinks were provided: a cocktail for my friend and glass of ice water for myself. Unlike the neighbouring four-person table, a water jug wasn't placed at our table, but on the condiment stand within an arm's reach.

A napkin basket of teeth-rupturing, burnt baguette slices and pungent hummus made an appearance shortly afterwards.

Much like any other experience, it started with delivery of our orders and a brief follow-up. However, as the crowds gathered around us and inside the so-called waiting area, major HP points were surrendered. The experience plummeted to rock bottom.

With the progression of time, his visits to our table become less frequent, his observations less attentive, and his actions less meticulous.

I had even overhead the table next to me point out his mistake of Pinot (Blanc) instead of Pinot Noir - and how could I not, when the ladies were literally within a foot of my belongings? He initially denied this claim, but it was apparent that his absentmindedness and inability to maintain composure under pressure was surfacing.

​A straightforward question towards the contents of my dish was left unanswered for over fifteen minutes, and our request for the bill forgotten for another thirty minutes. Moreover, additional time had been required on his part to retrieve the digital payment machine and process our separate bills on two separate trips spaced ten minutes apart.
Shall I add that he somehow succeeded in submerging one of the receipts in the mini fountain and releasing an exasperated sigh before refusing to recover it? Our water wasn't refilled either; I reached over to the condiment bar to uncap the slick bottle after being ignored for fifteen minutes.

It was all such a disapproving sight to witness.

The overall disorganization and lack of servers resulted in chaos, as well as staff members becoming forgetful and overlooking even the simplest of details. Noise pollution became tremendous once the restaurant reached full capacity, especially when the interior wasn't spacious to begin with.

​Fifty percent of the conversations I've exchanged with residents of northeast GTA (ie. Markham/Scarbourough) involve food, and ninety percent of the time, I've been informed that a place is "too far" and that they are adamantly against "driving such a distance for food".

Little has changed since my earlier post (and associated eye-rolling distress) about this topic. I'm unsure as to why one would permit distance to be a hindrance in attaining a positive dining experience. The scalar is unchanging, and apparently so are certain people's mindsets.

That being said, a trip spanning over 50 kilometres shouldn't be a regular occurrence, but instead reserved for special occassions.
Wineries, steel factories, and a clear view of Lake Ontario are just a few of the spectacles to be witnessed on the drive to Lake House. If a road trip in balmy weather with mellow DAY6 tunes in the background doesn't make for a pleasurable journey, then I'm at a loss to say what is.

​Over a year since our last visit, the waterfront restaurant remained as it had been. The parking lot was still mostly gravel, the patio still closed due to chilly temperatures, and the interior still as roomy as we last recalled. Skies were a tad greyer than the previous visit, causing waves to be rockier and the hue of the water duller.

The menu had been revamped significantly during our absence, with the most prominent addition being that of the Great Canadian Burger. In place of the Maple Chipotle variation I had seen captured previously, this gourmet specialty had been branded as "Niagara's Best Burger".
Having been torn between this intriguing item and the lighter option of Fish Tacos, I eventually complied with internally ravenous desires and chose the burger.

​View the updated full album HERE !

​Generally an avid lover of vegetables, burgers are a category of comfort food that seldom succeed in curbing my cravings. The Wilcox was the first exception. Lake House is now the second.