A taste of the baklava platter from the division-wide training session had prompted me to explore the confectionery further, especially when a fellow tablemate informed me of his go-to destination of Baklawa King. One of two outposts was located in close proximity to the sleepy polar bear, which naturally led to my fee-free UberEats request being honoured.
An assorted selection supposedly rang in at twenty-five dollars. From the total, I was allotted a portion, comprising of Borma with Pistachio, Diamond with Cashews, Assabeh with Almonds, Swar with Pistachio, and Wardeh with Pistachio.
An assorted selection supposedly rang in at twenty-five dollars. From the total, I was allotted a portion, comprising of Borma with Pistachio, Diamond with Cashews, Assabeh with Almonds, Swar with Pistachio, and Wardeh with Pistachio.
The nutty, bite-sized parcels were ranked in the following order:
- Wardeh with Pistachio - for its harmonious combination of flaky phyllo pastry and chewy sweetness
- Assabeh with Almonds - for a similar reason to the Wardeh, merely with less complexity
- Diamond with Cashews - as the flavours were distinctly divided into an upper half of crispy layers and bottom half of consolidated sugar instead of a mouthful of uniformity
- Swar with Pistachio - for its sweetness was overwhelming
- Borma with Pistachio - for the creation was not nearly as enjoyable as the one I had sampled previously: the nuts tasted burnt, while the thready strands of dough were excessively saturated with syrup
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Also bestowed upon me were two Pineapple Buns and one Hot Dog Bun from Papa John's Bakery. The former was met with dismal feedback, for the bun was needlessly dense with an atrociously thin, crumbly topping resulting in minimal contentment.
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Finding myself back in the scorching, stinky downtown district, I set out northbound to familiarize myself with destinations that the sleepy polar bear had visited in a static group gathering the weekend past, braving both rainfall and ruthless UV exposure with but a single umbrella.
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Retailers along Yonge Street primarily comprised of casual eateries. Woven between them was the occasional apparel and specialty goods boutique.
Along my trek, I came across funky-looking Nyanko-senseis, a mahjong café, and, of course, some sketchy, shuttered storefronts - quintessential elements of all urban cities.
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Nearing signage for Dance Life X, a studio that I had bookmarked for years but have still yet to visit, I came across the storefront for Bake Code Croissanterie.
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The name was likely a spinoff of "viennoiserie", the French terminology for enriched, yeast-leavened dough, intentionally made elaborate to exude the illusion of prestige. This was, of course, not to say that their products didn't deliver. I had yet to deduce a conclusion, after all.
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