Ever since I finally conducted a comprehensive review of my pantry, the list of ingredients pending expiry have been on my mind. Among the assortment are various bags of nuts from Costco and graham crackers. While I've been tackling dry roasted, salted hazelnuts through granola and pecans through pecan pie, graham crackers have been used towards no-bake desserts. The most common application is a graham cracker crust.

​Chocolate Pudding Bars with Matcha Glaze

A) Graham Cracker Base

Ingredients:

• 400 g Honey Maid graham crackers
• 190 g unsalted butter, melted and cooled

For an 8-9 in cake or 8 in x 8 in square pan, I typically turn to my small but mighty 3-cup food processor - which has now doubled (!!!) in price due to inflation! It takes about two rounds to blitz 250 g worth of biscuits. This time, I opted for a larger food processor, as I was practically doubling the amount for a 9 in x 13 in pan.

Melted butter was then drizzled into the food processor and mixed until combined. The crumbs were transferred to a parchment-lined pan, pressed towards the edges, and transferred to the refrigerator to harden as I prepared the Chocolate Pudding base.

In theory, matcha-topped pudding bars seemed like a splendid idea. However, the custard recipe on the exterior of the Bird's Custard Powder can was not only bland and tacky, but lacking in sweetness as well. Sweetened chocolate whipped cream enabled a soft, mousse-like consistency and drastically improved complexity.
The glaze also adopted the yielding consistency and vivid, grassy hue that I had sought out. Unfortunately, due to my matcha being expired, grassy depth had been compromised in the output.

​My patience was rewarded the next morning: I could achieve crisp lines and neat squares. The only caveat: the bars needed to be stored in the freezer and thawed only before eating.

With insufficient thawing time, the graham cracker base would persist impossibly rigid. On the other hand, the top two layers were still tasty and even slightly reminiscent of an ice cream bar.

Due to deviations from regularly scheduled weekend programming that endangered my workout routine, I decided that booking a fitness class for the earlier hours of the day was the only guaranteed way to maintain activity levels. After all, who would want to lug themselves out of bed after a late night without reason?

While I would have preferred a drop-in dance class, options were incredibly limited before 5 PM. Sunday slots were even rarer for pilates studios, which tend to offer early morning weekend sessions or close for business altogether. Panda Pilates emerged as the only establishment operating on Sunday, thus persuading a 2-class intro pack for $60 plus tax. While skepticism was prominent, I convinced myself that this was a good opportunity to try a new studio.

​Traffic conditions along the restricted segments of Dundas Street are abysmal during weekday evenings, but weekend mornings were surprisingly smooth. Despite a delayed departure, the unbelievably swift 8-minute commute led to an early arrival.

The studio was located off a residential road with a sharp turn off Dundas. Had I not known of the studio location prior, I'd have easily missed the turn with impatient weekend drivers tailing behind me. Parking spaces were limited, but adequate for the limited commercial GFA on site.
​
After climbing the concrete steps towards the entrance, I was met with a reception desk, series of cubbies, coat rack with fabric hangers covered with hair, and the odd installation of a coffee bar, known as Panda Café. Outdoor shoes were to be removed and placed by the entrance. 
This landing area was the dirtiest I had ever seen and, unlike the boutique studios, the staff did not maintain the studio between class sessions, allowing debris and hair follicles to fall to the ground and remain as is. I grimaced while stepping over the dirt- and salt-speckled floor mat towards a basket of equally questionable slippers. Unlike other studios though, the edges of the slippers appeared fairly clean and free of grey borders.
Two dimly-lite bathrooms were found past the studio space. The design was minimal and serene, though its cleanliness merely passable. I did, however, enjoy the smart mirror and conveniently located hook against the wall instead of behind the door.

An unspoken reality, the social aspect of one's life suffers tremendously as one progresses in their career and goes on to pursue family life. Last year's employer swap brought about more physical, emotional, and mental detriment than I could have put into words. While tensions in the working environment have eased slightly with diminishing involvement of an incompetent "people leader" - oh, how I scoff at this term! - my weekends remain hectic. There is simply not enough time to complete chores, engage with those around me, and live life.

Yet I hesitated not in agreeing to weekend hangouts when the invites were extended.

The first was a dinner-and-darts gathering downtown. Pecan Pie was prepared in advance, though the box and celebratory accessories were not obtained until the day of.

​While I scrambled to ready myself for the long day ahead, my browsing partner assisted in procuring a pie box from bulk barn and a numbered sparkler candle from Dollarama. Alas, the hunt for the second numbered sparkler candle would continue as we chanced across more Dollarama outposts.

A stopover in Etobicoke allowed me to peruse the nearest Dollarama. In the absence of sparkler candles, I hurriedly took to a rhinestone-studded Happy Birthday topper. We then detoured through Walmart for indoor plumbing facilities and a lunch of Junior Chicken and, dare I say, awfully dismal Poutine. The cheese curds weren't squeaky; the gravy was tacky and extraordinarily salty. Even the franchise's signature fries had lost their appeal being slathered in unwarranted extras.

​I resolved to park at The Well, for majority of the day's activities would take place in the vicinity.

Since my last visit, a handful of new retailers have eased their way into the mixed-use complex. Amongst them were makers-type spaces for local artists, the REFORMD studio by Lagree in partnership with Sweat & Tonic, Muji, Mr. Surprise and its Catchawee photobooths (two present, but only one functioning), and, most notably, new additions to the Wellington Market.

​Kao Kang by Koh Lipe boasted an impressive selection of Southeast Asian-inspired ice cream flavours and treats. Meanwhile, the expanded section of Wellington Market welcomed an extremely compact photobooth, The Carvery's meat roast sandwiches, and even a THC consumables retailer. East Tea Can was unfortunately no more, as the storefront had been reinstated to a blank canvas ready for the next leasee.

Swift footsteps enabled us to cover almost all three levels in under an hour. I pointed out Japadog's West Coast/East Coast menu deviations to my browsing partner, and offhandedly mentioned my interest in multicoloured offerings from The Samosarie, though dismissed the eye-catching specimens on the basis of spice.

I returned to the office in an awfully haggard state. Needless to say, I wasn't the only one. There were also plenty of technical difficulties experienced with the first meeting of the year.

​However, I am glad to report that, despite the undesirable conclusion of the winter holiday, seeing familiar faces made for a pleasant time. Cookies were presented and rapidly depleted by fellow floor members, while excited exchanges took place about the past two weeks. I even received a new year gift of Läderach and magnet stickers from a lovely coworker!

The lunchtime mall walk led to several new discoveries:

• The Bakers, a Middle Eastern bakery, had replaced Bingz in the food court

Presumably a recent addition given its cleaner quarters, I excited flipped through the frame options. The New Year frames piqued my interest immediately, and I swiftly convinced my coworker to join me. In the absence of hooks, our winter jackets were hung on the ends of the curtain rod for the duration of the session.

The day passed quickly, and I eventually found myself acting upon my craving for a 3 Guys from CoCo. Naturally, I took advantage of their January promotion of 2 for $10. ​A hot variation was bestowed upon my browsing partner.

Friday was the day I looked forward to the most. Operating with a noxious strained neck for at least one week was loathsome. When the day of my long-awaited massage finally rolled around, I entered the premises with vigor and anticipation.

​The evening ended on an excruciating - but nevertheless high - note as the many muscles surrounding my neck were pried at with force. Recoiling in pain, I crawled into the comfort of soft friends and commenced an exceptionally rare activity: Opening a book.

It wasn't a novel per se, but a cookbook with filled with personal stories. For the first time since acquisition, I began to read "Life's Sweetest Moments" by Dominique Ansel.
He was an impressive man, with countless baking ideas stemming from interactions and isolated moment in time. Even more inspiring was his ability to apply mastered principles to convert a feeling or past occurrence into a dessert. Truthfully, it was mesmerizing to read his detailed recaps, for my memory also functions in a strikingly similar fashion, with details and timelines intact.

​His recipes ranged in difficulty level, but I bookmarked a seemingly simple one to try. It was a Homemade Cherry Macadamia Granola inspired by Dominique's late nights when working in a restaurant.

​The original recipe quantities are as follows:

• 91 g macadamia nuts, roughly chopped
• 104 g sliced almonds
• 196 g unsalted butter, room temp
• 196 g brown sugar
• 261 g old-fashioned rolled oats
• 76 g golden raisins
• 76 g dried cherries

With the exception of dried cherries and sultanas instead of golden raisins, my pantry was already stocked with the above ingredients. After  carefully reviewing the method, I set out to construct. In the absence of a recipe, imagination was required to envision the sequence of steps.

The recipe instructs toasting the macadamia nuts and sliced almonds together at 350 F for 10-15 minutes. Based on past experiences, this approach would surely lead to one's demise. The nuts would not toast evenly given their drastic difference in size and would further become burnt and unusable by the 8-minute mark.
I toasted my sliced almonds at 325 F for 4 mins and dry roasted, salted, chopped macadamia nuts at 325 F for 7 minutes then another 4 minutes more. This enabled both varieties of nuts to achieve a golden glow without fear of blackening.

The next step involved using a stand mixer to cream butter and brown sugar until light and fluffy. Frankly, using a stand mixer for granola seemed excessive, so I creamed the butter and brown sugar together by hand. Perhaps I did not cream adequately, for fine bits of brown sugar remained in the final product. After adding the specified quantity of oats, I spread the mixture into a lined baking pan as directed. Baking at 350 F for 10-12 minutes did not render the oats crunchy whatsoever. I continued baking for another 20 minutes, at which point the butter began to ooze from the mixture, seeping underneath the silicon mat.
In the end, I'd continue to bake until dryness was observed, but the oats persisted awfully greasy and crumbly. They were also too sweet for my liking.

​Against my better judgement, I had sampled the baked oat mixture before it had cooled completely. In response to the excessive sugariness, I sprinkled a generous amount of smoked Maldon into the bowl. This inclusion contributed to the granola's eventual downfall, as it did not require the sodium boost at all.

Should the recipe be attempted again, I shall be reducing the amounts of both the butter and brown sugar. The specified quantity was excessive, and far more than even a standard cookie recipe! For chunks of crunch instead of crumbly oats, I will also consider the inclusion of egg white, as SK had done for hers.

In the days that followed, the granola only grew saltier, much to my dismay. Adding raisins assisted slightly, as did consuming dried strawberries (the item I had requested from my browsing partner due to bulk barn's unavailability of dried cherries) between each spoonful. My face and body bloated shortly after consuming a breakfast bowl's worth of granola, in a similar fashion as one does when consuming sodium-laden instant noodles. The experience was indeed traumatizing.

Nevertheless, I appreciated Dominque Ansel introducing the method of toasting nuts separate from baking the oats, then folding in dried fruit in the end. Often are instances where the raisins become bitter and burnt before the oats become crisp. Reserving mix-ins for the final stage prevent such a scenario. The combination of salted macadamia nuts and dried fruit was also unexpected, but highly enjoyable.

​2) No Bake Coffee Cheesecake Tart with Chocolate Ganache and Coffee Ganache Montée

​Over the holidays, an inventory check was conducted for all the snacks and ingredients in my pantry. Some had been long forgotten, labelled with expiry dates one or even three years past, while others recently expired or soon to expire. I succeeded in IDing most of the bagged goods, disposing of rancid nuts, ancient wheat bran, bread flour with an atrocious, off-putting aroma, and homemade breadcrumbs, which, thankfully, hadn't moulded due to my inclusion of a silica gel packet in the container.

For the next little while, I vowed to deplete as many ingredients as possible before their expiry date. While these dates merely serve as an estimate of freshness, excessive exceedance is likely not recommended.

A) Biscoff Crust

First up was a lonely 250 g pack of Biscoff, which formed the base of my recipe-less, no-bake creation. Using Sunday Baking and SK for reference, the approximate proportion of melted butter to crushed biscuits was 40-64%. I adhered to Sunday's ratio, which specified the amount of butter to be 40% of the biscuits by weight.

B) Cheesecake Batter

Life's Sweetest Moments, Pg. 28 had also included specific quantities for powdered gelatin and water. This was incredibly helpful, as Sunday Baking tends to use gelatin sheets, which will stop absorbing water once saturated.

• By volume: 2 gelatin : 3 water
• By mass: 1 g gelatin: 2.333 g water

As I experienced difficulty fully dissolving the gelatin using a 2:3 ratio, I turned to 1:3 ratio by weight instead. 1 gelatin : 3 water worked much better.

​For the first time in a long time, January 1st felt like any other day.
Except the skies outside was sunny and glorious: a breathtaking blue to awaken a sombre soul.

Strawberry-Pineapple-Peach Jam

A Four Fruit Jam had been compiled the day before in anticipation of being used as a compote to serve with pork. Its construction leaned similar to my go-to jam recipe, which comprises of:

• 4 cups frozen fruit
• 1 cup granulated sugar
• 1/3 cup lemon juice
• 1-1.5 tbsp gelatin

​Instead of leaving a scanty amount for another recipe, I ultimately decided to use the 600 g bag in its entirety. To account for the innate sweetness of pineapples and peaches, the quantity of sugar was reduced from 1 cup/190 g to 170 g. Furthermore, the amount of gelatin was reduced to 1 tbsp due to the heavy ratio of fruit.

Turkey French Onion Soup

One bag of onions supplied ten, roughly uniform bulbs. Majority were utilized towards a French Onion Soup base; a handful of slices were reserved for pairing alongside the lunch main of pan-seared pork loin.​

Unfortunately, this variety did not disintegrate and caramelize as I would have liked. The resulting French Onion Soup was quite bland, even with the inclusion of our sumptuous Christmas turkey. Sautéing the mountain of slivers in butter for approximately thirty minutes lent a bodacious mouthful to the resulting soup, but the concoction was ultimately found lacking in complexity and containing an abundance of intact onion threads. ​ It is uncertain whether the heat was inadequate (low-medium heat was used to encourage a slow degradation without burning) or if the pot needed more butter to encourage browning.

​Smoky Pork Loin

Slabs of meat are not an item I tend to cook frequently. As a consequence, I took it upon myself to conduct ample research before commencing. Most, if not all, recipes included the following steps/principles:

• Brine or marinade; any amount of time is better than none, though the ideal brine is minimum four hours up to overnight (24 hours).
• Garlic, as well as shallots in place of onions for a sweeter, milder take
• Some type of fruit to pair (ie. pear, apple, peach, etc.)
• Basting for substantial cuts, akin to cooking steak
• Finishing the cooking process in the oven for smaller cuts
• Obtaining an internal temperature reading of 135 F, halting cooking, and allowing residual heat to bring the internal temperature to 145 F

In the meantime, I'd tend to my Gai Lan.

Searing was an absolute atrocity for those fearing the sputtering of hot oil. My Dollarama splatter screen helped marginally. In any case, it is best to approach with confidence and caution. After each round was patted dry, I drizzled oil into my pan and waited for the lubricant to lose viscosity. For best results, an aluminum pan is recommended. Having none though, the easiest alternative was my largest nonstick pan. Less fond was anticipated to emerge though.
On one side of the pan, a rack was readied; on the other, Turkey French Onion Soup bubbled away. Working in batches, each round of pork loin was seared until golden brown with blackened edges. Rotating the cuts along their perimeter provided additional char and served to preserve their shape.

As the seared rounds rested on the rack, bloody juices dripping, sliced onions were transferred to the pan. A quick sautée ensued, followed by a plentiful glug of rose cooking wine that gave rise to an excited sizzle. I adapted my pan sauce to use homemade jam for a sweet, fruity component. Three heaping spoonfuls of jam were added once the cooking wine evaporated. Subsequent steps involved distributing the jam, nestling the pork loin back into the pan, adding a small amount of water, and allowing the meat to finish cooking as the sauce thickened.
An initial temperature reading came back at 119 F. The pan was covered for several minutes before I checked once more. At this point, the readings ranged from 139-150 F. White juices that had solidified on the surface of the rounds also confirmed doneness.

I ought to have reduced the heat in the final stages of cooking, for the rounds were unmistakably tougher after resting. Nevertheless, they were juicy, tender, and irresistibly smoky. Crunchy bits of onion and sweet morsels of red-tinted pineapple complemented the dish perfectly.

As the final hours of 2025 inevitably draw closer, I am reminded of the noticeable deviation between my planned and actual progress. Circulating social media are reminders that mere survival is worth commending, and that even the small wins are worth celebrating. However much I may preach the same message to those experiencing feelings of unfulfillment, I am a hypocrite. Those same sentiments do not hold validity for me.

Whether it be described as unwavering determination or naïve, unrealistic ambition, I couldn't care less about the classification. What matters is that goals were made, but not all were achieved within the designated time frame.

Substantial setbacks were suffered when I departed the downtown core in favour of a work location closer to home. My commute improved drastically, effectively slashing the total travel time by one third, yet my physical, mental, and emotional states were subject to a harsh blow. Having breathed easy for the past two years, the change mimicked the torturous, traumatic days of private sector work. Many months would pass before I could stand on two feet again.

Just when I believed that brighter days were ahead, my world drowned with darkness. Loss of a loved one is never easy, but experiencing grief firsthand was yet another grueling challenge for the mind and body. And while I have come to terms with the new reality, it still feels surreal at times, knowing that what was once constant is no more. The event was a cold reminder that humans are mere mortals vulnerable to the brunt of time.

​Returning home, it dawned on me that Operation Clean The House would need to be rebooted, else it'd never take place. New horrors await in the new year, after all. An ominous feeling rooted deep within my heart also urged me to inherit and acquire (via skill) family recipes that could potentially be lost with further changes.

​Honey Date Tea / 杏仁蜜棗茶 has been my saviour for all throat-related concerns from youth. Albeit straightforward in its ingredient list, the procedure was supposedly time-consuming. Being presented with this tea time and time again without a recipe for repeatability, I deemed it appropriate to devise a written method for reference.

​While the tea sat atop the stovetop, simmering away for hours on the lowest heat setting possible, I went to work reorganizing my bakeware collection. Since the pandemic days, the assortment of pans, tools, and accessories have multiplied exponentially. Gradually, the chaos and inconvenience became too much to endure.

Shelves were procured from IKEA under the assumption that assembly would be straightforward. After three hours of scratched shelves and a shaky frame, I surrendered and sought help from TaskRabbit instead. In partnership with IKEA, the portal allowed users to find "neighbours" offering handyman services and request a time slot suitable for both parties.
For those with natural aptitudes at building or constructing, this service may not be relevant. However, in a society with an aging population, such personnel become extremely helpful to those without the inability to DIY.

​A small amount of cleaning was conducted, as was inspecting all areas for expired food.

The last few days of the year proceeded under anxiety. With the other member of the household still out of commission, the responsibility of survival operations fell upon my shoulders. Groceries and errands were completed in a hurry, followed by cooking. Within the span of an hour, four stops were completed; my browsing partner assisted with the remaining two, enabling commencement of sustenance preparation shortly after 11 AM.

Christmas felt more than a little different this year.
For starters, we weren't celebrating - not officially anyway. But the lingering flu symptoms plaguing one member of the household had yet to dissipate completely.

Before the influx of illness though, a turkey had been procured. Celebration or not, sustenance wasn't negotiable. We reckoned we'd make several meals out of a single turkey anyway.

​Simple sides accompanied the glistening centrepiece: boiled yellow potatoes, canned pineapple chunks, and freshly sliced tomatoes. The assortment appeared minimal in comparison to past years, yet I frankly preferred it. Zucchini and Little Gem potatoes roasted with butter often reveal themselves too satiating alongside a meaty entrée. There is also far more food than can be reasonably consumed by two people. By scaling down the lavishness of the meal, we had inadvertently also prevented food waste!

​Brined overnight with plenty of garlic cloves, the oven roasted turkey was likely the best variation to emerge from our kitchen. Tender, juicy, and unbelievably flavourful, I declared it fitting that the side dishes had persisted conservative as to allow the turkey to take centre stage. Most impressively, all parts of the bird were thoroughly cooked through. The breast remained succulent despite its leanness, while dark meat along the thighs were marvelous, boasting irresistible flavour from hours of diligent preparation.

Holiday Rice Krispies

The annual return of Christmas cookies hadn't anticipated to be omitted, but the timing of festive preparations coincided with a turbulent return to reality. Rather than gleeful cut out cookies glistening with colourful sprinkles, I turned towards a simpler take on holiday treats: Rice Krispies.

​When the return of red, green, and white Rice Krispies returned to the shelves, I flocked towards the boxes, in spite of their four-dollar price tags. The seasonal variety was a pivotal element of my childhood and, as with many young Canadians, associated with family-friendly undertakings for school parties.

​Over the years, I've experimented with a wide range of Rice Krispies flavours, only to return to the original every single time. 

Regardless of my health status, I had planned to make the Monday before Christmas a sick day. Over the weekend, a sore throat and sinus pain had crept up, then gradually subsided with diligent nasal rinsing. Meanwhile, the remainder of the household was engulfed with severe flu symptoms, ranging from fever to nausea and vomiting, and a persistent cough.
My once peaceful morning was consequently repurposed for doctor appointment drop-off, medication pick-up, and groceries.

​In spite of an early awakening, my eventual departure for the northeast end of the GTA was delayed.

I arrived at my first stop of Oomomo around 1:15 PM - approximately 1.25h behind schedule. Locating parking in the FMP plaza is perpetually a nightmare; thankful was I to have chanced across two vacancies during my second loop about the space.
The intent had been to purchase a holiday card and envelope set prior to seeing Sunday Baking at her pop-up. Alas, all Christmas-themed items had sold out. I resorted to the next best alternative of a wintry dove letter kit.

The pickup process was as swift as could be - it was my commentary that was not! Having been presented with the rare opportunity to relay my appreciation in the flesh, I couldn't help but excitedly express my gratitude and admiration for her creative masterpieces! The honour was truly mine. Sunday Baking was easily my baking role model, in addition to my mentor and teacher. She had, albeit unknowingly, enabled me to create by providing free, valuable content via her YouTube videos and remarkable troubleshooting. I was ecstatic, for since the end of the stay sweet phase, I hadn't been certain that I would see her again.

​When ROYCE's Nama Chocolate had first risen to fame, I committed to a box at their Richmond Centre kiosk. After bringing the costly specimen back home though, I quickly discovered my aversion towards the dimensionless squares and their excessive dusting of cocoa powder.
But Sunday Baking's creations are different. Despite having reservations about certain treats, I've learned to trust in her formulas. The same theory was applied to the quad of Nama Chocolate on offer at the holiday pop-up.

Read Part 1 HERE !

​Hello Nori was my belated birthday dinner destination of choice - not that this was made known to my browsing partner beforehand. When the original plan of routing through the 100 Queen St W garage fell through due to City Hall's 6 PM closure, I descended down an alternative access to the PATH.
The stairwell and landing area did reveal any differences from when I had last commuted, however the internal corridors of the below-grade connections had undergone a dramatic facelift. The grungy environment was made brilliant with white tiling and marble walls. Seating had also been revamped with grey lounge chairs to appear more appealing and welcoming.

The section between Nathan Phillips and Hudson Bay went ultimately unexplored, for we turned into the Sheraton for lavatory facilities before continuing southbound towards York/Wellington.

Reservations were not supported by Hello Nori, thus we joined the queue and alerted the hostess upon arrival. She approximated a twenty-minute wait in consideration of the two parties ahead of us. While waiting, it dawned on me that eatery strictly utilized bar seating, without any private tables in the vicinity. Bags could be placed underneath the dining counter on one of the many double hooks installed underneath. Jackets could also be hung in the same location, though I took to the wonky, wobbly coat rack to prevent my sleeves from grazing my shoes and the floor.

Approximately fifteen minutes later, we were gestured towards two seats at the end of the U-shaped seating area closest to the waiting area. The hostess made certain to note the bar chair's swivel capabilities, as well as the height adjustment lever. I appreciated the ability to tailor the seating configuration to fit one's physical requirements, but appreciated the stool's built-in foot rest even more. Too often does a metal rod affixed to the bottom of the counter serve as a communal foot rest, and rarely does it accommodate my leg length.

​With Takeout and Dine In order slips placed along the length of the queue, we had plenty of time to review the restaurant's offerings prior to ordering. The menu was extremely compact, comprising of shareable portions of oshizushi and temaki (hand rolls) without a single side of greens in sight. Miso soup and edamame could be requested at four dollars each, though hearty options such as donburis were not to be found.
Hello Nori's signature selection of hand rolls could be requested in sets of 4 pieces, 5 pieces, and 6 pieces. Meanwhile, Aburi Oshi Sushi and Sashimi could be used to supplement the carb-heavy assortment.

​The hostess advised against ordering the 6-piece set, for most patrons find that they are unable to deplete it in its entirety. My browsing partner express dubiousness towards this suggestion, noting a decent appetite. We awaited for the waitress's rundown of the fixed menu and seasonal specials before placing our order.

View the full album HERE !