​The weekends now feel shorter than ever. Recuperating from the work week past consumes majority of the morning, as ongoing stressors and unresolved issues make for persistently restless sleep.

When Monday rolled around, I felt stifled to not have managed anything beyond recovery and fundamental chores. In the quiet periods where I had yet to receive unscheduled agonizing call, I worked quickly to realize the outlandish idea in mind. The availability of heavy cream that was imminently to expire, Vegemite that was otherwise unpalatable on its own, and the vast resource bank that is YouTube and Sunday Baking's repertoire led me to Vegemite Caramel.

Vegemite Caramel

The concept was that "If salted caramel works, why not Vegemite?" The latter is salty, in an undeniably funky way, but should theoretically develop into a similar output.

Adapted from Sunday Baking's Chocolate Salted Caramel Tart, I scaled the ingredient amounts to deplete the remainder of my heavy cream carton, then introduced a quarter teaspoon smear of the beloved Aussie spread.

• 140 g heavy cream
• 140 brown sugar
• 49 g unsalted butter
• 20 g corn syrup
• 5 g Vegemite (did not incorporate)

Yield: 1.5 cups

​All steps were adhered to as depicted in the recipe. Vegemite was added at the very end of the process, prior to straining. Unfortunately, it did not incorporate fully, as its proportion of stabilizers had caused seizing when added over heat. Straining the mixture removed a few bits, though the remainder was already sufficient in tinging the salty-sweet spread with its signature funkiness.

​Overall, the spread was pretty tasty over toasted whole wheat bread. The warmth of the toast would awaken the aromas of Vegemite, such that the olfactory senses would awaken before tasting. The caramel could also be used in dessert applications: drizzling a small amount over vanilla ice cream made for luscious, fudge-like streaks bursting with umami. At cooler temperatures, textural contrast was improved and funky fragrances were moderated.

Vegemite is very much an acquired taste. Although my interpretation retained some of its signature qualities, the spread served to introduce the spread in a subtle, familiar manner, with a faint twist.

​I also succeeded in tempering chocolate!

The turnout of the weekend baking session had sparked a sense of indignance - I was positively certain that I had completed all the steps accurately. My journey to redemption would involve Surfin instead of Blancor, meaning that the desired temperature would be 31-32 C as opposed to the 30 C required for white chocolate.

​I've definitely improved in terms of speed, for the very first attempt spanned up to one hour. Subsequent attempts were within the 20-30 minute range, while this latest attempt averaged fifteen minutes. After comprehensive mixing, seeding, mixing, and checking for a stabilized temperature, the contents of the bowl were poured into a mould. Excess was merely spread across a sheet of parchment.

It was through this process that I confirmed the need for patience. The allotment that had been allowed to rest untouched emerged perfectly shiny to touch and exuded a wondrous snap. In contrast, the slab that I had poked and probed out of impatience persisted with a matte finish that tracked fingerprints and refused to snap cleanly, exhibiting fuzzy edges and poor texture.
In summary, temperature control and patience remain critical to success in baking.

April showers are known to bring May flowers. Recent observations have proved us wrong though.

​After Victoria Day long weekend, the GTA was graced with atypically high levels of precipitation. Back-to-back days of dreary skies and downpours reminded of my Raincouver climate - save that gusts were stronger and mountainous views were nonexistent.

​Braving the miserable walking conditions, I sauntered over to Food Basics over lunch, eager to relieve myself from the ongoing work tasks for a brief moment.

​Indeed, some items were observed more economic than my go-to destinations of Loblaws and BTrust. On the other hand, some imported items were priced tragically steep, including Ribena for $18.99!

My umbrella flipped over several times over the course of my outdoor journey. By the time I reached Timmies, my thin, woven gloves were damp and digits frigid. A request for a hot Brown Sugar Latte was received well by the staff. Although the concoction was offered exclusively in an iced format on the mobile app, a customized creation was made possible by ordering at the kiosk. A toasty "BSL" enabled me to continue with my day in a cheerful manner.

​The next morning saw similar climate conditions, albeit with increased amount of fog. Fabric gloves were swapped for a water repellant pair instead. Persisting in tow were an umbrella, waterproof footwear, a hood-less, furry bomber that boasts more warmth and style than water-resistant qualities.

"If I'm free and it's open, then we can go."

Since returning from Korea, I had made it known to my browsing partner that not having had jjajangmyeon (and taiyaki, amongst other local fare) was unacceptable. The response was another infuriating shrug, to which I responded that "We should go to Paik's to make up for it."

Victoria Day long weekend offered an additional day to account for unanticipated delays. While I was still much further behind in my chores than I'd like to admit, I reckoned that there would be no better time to venture all the way to Thornhill than a three-day weekend.

I requested - begged, even! - that we would merely make the trip for dinner and return without dwelling. My browsing partner grudgingly agreed, though didn't hesitate to demonstrate dragging feet at our time of parting.

Departing at 6:15 PM, our commute to the northeast end of the GTA approximated just 40 minutes on the statutory holiday.
Paik's Noodle was situated in a commercial plaza on Steeles between Bayview and Leslie, joined by Shoppers, LCBO, RBC, a karate studio, Subway, and a cannabis store. Except for Tim Hortons, the asphalt lot was practically empty at our time of arrival.

Needless to say, we did not need to wait for a table, in spite of the handful of Google Reviews that indicated otherwise.​

Upon being seated, we were provided two Stainless steel cups, a Stainless steel teapot, and a trio of danmuji, jjajang (?) sauce, and sliced raw onions. Affixed to the edge of the table was a tablet to facilitate ordering. A plastic-lined bucket (Korea D5 P2)rested near the tablet, likely serving as the disposal vessel for shellfish discard.
Utensils, napkins, and condiments were located in a two-drawer compartment bolted to the opposite end of the table. While this configuration was exceptionally convenient - especially during peak hours when servers are busy tending to order delivery - the wooden box was intensely uncomfortable to sit with. I could slide towards the centre of the booth to avoid constant bumping of my knee, but my browsing partner often ate at a distance from the table due to the clunky under-table installation.

​Physical menus were replaced entirely using the touchpad, allowing patrons to browse to their heart's desire while comparing prices between order sizes. For any additional inquiries, such as allergy concerns, a generic "Call Staff" button was available at the lower left corner of the screen.

A Small Jjajangmyeon set us back just $8.99! The Large size was a toonie more at $10.99. Both options were extremely budget-friendly, as the market price for jjajangmyeon is well above $12, nearing $15.
True to its claim of being a signature dish, the Black Bean Noodles were positively scrumptious! The noodles exhibited bounce and chewiness, while the sauce was savoury without being excessively salty. Crispy pieces of onion and cabbage topped the concoction. In contrast to its ingredient warning of pork, I could scarcely find any trace of meat in the shallow dish. Cucumber slices adorning its surface were also omitted, though yellow pickled radish could be requested free of charge.

​As a lover of jjajangmyeon, Paik's version definitely delivered in terms of complexity and consistency. My sole gripe is simply the absence of meat.

If there's anything I can confirm, it's that I've reverted back to my consulting disposition: irritable, unhappy, fatigued, and sensitive to any acts that deplete time from my day. Twenty-four hours was never enough to start, but even small pockets of time have become increasingly valuable as the work stress overcomes me more each day.

The first in-office saw a giant platter of Pandan Honeycomb Cake quietly emerge. I tacked a label onto the plastic wrap, plus a bold "EAT ME!" to dissipate any hesitation.

Stemming from a desire to walk, I strolled my way up to the mechanical penthouse level, then back down to the floor wherein my desk had been reserved.

​Over lunch, I'd gradually make my way in the direction of Square One, but meandering on the west side of Duke of York for improved access to shade and streetscaping.

Tulips and dainty buds graced the exterior of the Living Arts Centre. Meanwhile, yellow maple leaves and a tiered, indigo-tinted outdoor lounge area assumed colourful highlights outside Sheridan College.

​For the first time in a long time, weather was perfect.

Modern technology has enabled products to arrive on our doorstep within a matter of days - or even minutes for items requested through UberEats. A seemingly perfect solution to keep consumerism alive, headaches arise when large purchases arrive when one is not at home to receive them, or when the item ordered is far weightier than fathomed.

With supposed corporate reimbursement, I finally splurged on a standing desk.
The only issue? I couldn't move it into my house.

Not only was the weighty box unable to be rolled or dragged, I could barely even lift it off the wall! Finally, after pulling my back and further injuring my wrist and shoulder, I succeeded in transferring it to a wheeled cart for temporary storage in the garage. For the time being, it would be safe from forecasted showers.
Later that evening, I received the gracious assistance of my neighbours, who not only swiftly lifted the table into the foyer, but even offered to assemble the desk for me! I would have gladly accepted, had I made space for the sizable piece of furniture. But alas, I'll admit I hadn't planned that far. Both my new monitors and new desk would reside in their respective boxes until such time I could purge an area for staging.

In the meantime, I'd undergo office preparations, readying my Honey Cakes with allergen information and container warnings.

​Unfortunately, not a soul would draw near the Honey Cakes. Had I not walked around with the tray in hand, offering them to various members of the floor, they'd not move an inch! This was a scene utterly unheard of at my previous workplace. Snacks, no matter the kind, were seen as exclusive - in other words, for consumption by distinct teams and not intended for sharing. This territorial nature was equal parts confusing and unattractive.

​As if distributing the cakes personally wasn't enough of a hassle, one colleague unashamedly insinuated an otherwise unnecessary remark.

After declining a honey cake, he followed up with "So you like baking? Do you bake often?", to which, of course, I answered in the affirmative. While conversations with non-bakers usually end here, he continued his interrogation.
"Do you have an Instagram page for it?"
I furrowed my brows, perplexed at the question.
"No?"
"Oh so you're not serious about it (baking)."
Immediately recoiling, I replied that I do capture photo evidence of my creations and log recipes into spreadsheets.
Of course, neither of these points mattered, for the man was determined to present his biased stance.
He announced that he knew "someone who posts and gets orders to make things", and slid the baker's social media feed in my direction. He then mentioned that they were neighbours, and he often receives baked goods as a result of proximity.

Beyond perplexed at this point, I attempted to understand the exchange, but ultimately could not.
What is the relationship between posting photos and being "serious" about a hobby that they enjoy?
For all he could be aware, I could be a hidden professional and never tell anyone, and never post a single photo. Furthermore, my distribution of the goods is merely for the purpose of sharing. Anyone who had ever sampled my creations prior would know that I could easily sell my products, but I had chose not to.

Politely declining a cake is absolutely fine.
Commentary that is neither nice nor relevant to the food at hand was unwarranted.
In the wise words of my former coworker, "take the cake and eat it fam."

​Beautiful blue skies and blossoming shrubs were observed on my way towards the mall.

​The main objective was scouring the closing sale assortment of Frank & Oak. Unfortunately, the shelves were practically empty at my time of arrival. As the staff chattered cheerfully without a single glance in my direction, I made my departure for other stops of interest.

​Simons was an unplanned detour, yet one that bestowed me with fabulous finds! The sale section led to the discovery of $9.99 knits and $19.99 blouses - all of which served as great options to expand my workwear wardrobe.

My third week on the job catapulted me into a series of training sessions, both virtual and physical. The former is comparatively forgiving, for, at the very least, I have the liberty of standing, stretching, and using the bathroom as required. The latter serves as a gradual decline of energy levels and attention span, for being bound to one's seat for extended periods of time induces restlessness, thus lessening the overall willingness to absorb new information.

With that said, I utilized every possible pocket to roam. Walking was vital to my overall disposition and wellness.

The return of Smile Cookies prompted many visits to my nearby Timmies. For this season, they would be raised to a price of two dollars per cookie and exempt from earning points via the Tim Hortons' app. While I was pleased with neither decision, the entirety of its earnings being donated to a local charity somewhat sufficed as justification. Ultimately, my intention to partake in the annual-turned-semi-annual initiative was not swayed.

​A former Toronto colleague informed me of her cookie pulls. Donning deranged demeanours, she joked that they were reflective of the downtown community.

​Meanwhile, my pulls were unquestionably tamer - adorable even!

The city's initiative to introduce magnolia trees to the Queen Elizabeth Jubilee Garden and Celebration Square had also not gone unnoticed.

​Despite the buds being oddly shrivelled, their rosy pink presence nevertheless brightened the gathering space in a way that announced the arrival of spring.

​Of course, as far as Ontario weather goes, there is never such a thing as guaranteed spring.

​Lunchtime would again see perusal of the mall.