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.

When my eyes opened to yet another Monday, I was overcome with anxiety once more. The sporadic bursts of lightheadedness hadn't faded. Recovery had been inadequate. Nevertheless, I peeled myself away from the safe cradle of the bed and proceeded with preparations.

​It was a gloomy, gusty day. A handful of employees had likely extended their long weekend by one more day, for the parking garage was noticeably empty.

The mid-morning saw a "coffee walk" around Square One. At first, I had wondered why all retailers were still shuttered. In verifying the time of day, I realized I had never once roamed the mall quarters at the early hour of 9 AM.

A few select establishments were open, namely Walmart, Tim Hortons, and Au Pain Doré.
Promotional posters for Hot Cross Buns at the latter caught my attention initially, but the Chocolate Moelleux was the item ultimately acquired from the short-lived saunter.

The cashier depicted the specimen with a "chocolate mousse"-like texture. However, sampling the extra-dense portion with a tongue depressor wooden spoon back in the office, it was found to be an incredibly rich ganache instead.

The aluminum container in which it resided was greasy on the outside and lined with specks of granulated sugar on the inside. Having not dissolved completely during the baking process, one could perceive visible patches of condensation incited by the sugar particles along the interior circumference.
Served chilled, the Chocolate Moelleux resembled a hybrid of a ganache and an upright molten lava cake. Interestingly, the ganache was not uniform, instead featuring a viscous yet pliable centre and fully set edges. There weren't any distinctively alluring elements to the concoction, thus I deemed a repurchase at $4.75 plus tax to be unwarranted. For my purposes, I could create a similar product with minimal effort using excess ganache.

I returned to am excruciatingly long morning, which led me into noon. The immediate task at hand was dropping off donations at Hazel McCallion Central Library. The convenient drop-off location constituted the ideal opportunity to participate in the city's Recycling Collection Drive.

Afterwards, I braved a drizzly trek into the mall.
While there were a number of ongoing sales and promotions, MEC offered not a single cycling glove for testing and evaluation.

That evening, I decided against a second consecutive office day. Woes were drowned in Black Sesame Glutinous Rice Balls with yellow cane sugar syrup.

Emerging as a consequence of my work-from-home breather were Ginger Molasses Cookies, the sole recipe from Smitten Kitchen Keepers that I've crafted again and again.

There was two deviations from her recipe: my go-to substitution of fresh ginger for candied ginger and the not-so-novel inclusion of Gingerbread Finishing Sugar in addition to turbinado for coating. Any increased gingerbread-y essences were indistinguishable, and the cookie was rendered utterly cloying as a result.

​I paired the batch with the last of two packs of Drip Coffee from 곁에, relishing in the beverage more than the staggeringly sweet specimen in hand.

With great power comes great responsibility.
Unfortunately, in my case, only one applies. (Hint: It's not the former.)

​Following a brief break of snacking and matcha latte-ing, I entered into my new position without too many thoughts. After all, I had just returned from vacation not long ago, with the strike-related concerns chasing its start.

​Glad I was to now be granted a far nicer commute of twenty minutes. That said, I was utterly unaware of the situation that would unfold over the subsequent few days.

​The office was great - a tall building with underground parking, separate towers for public and security-controlled access, and brilliant views of the surrounding scenery. Of course, Square One was in extremely close proximity as well. Most of the open cubicles had been equipped with modern setups, including charging stations supporting Type C, universal docking stations, and sit-stand desks. IT was great too - many topics of interest were digitalized and easily accessible by employees old and new.

However, the downsides of the new position soon became evident.
For starters, the workload was beyond imaginable. The team comprised of just four in total, myself included. The transition of responsibilities would ensue before I was even fully onboarded. Worst of all, I'd be left in the dark about IT equipment, benefits, mandatory training, and more.

I had little to no time alone on my first day, which I hardly expected. At least I'd be left to poke around the intranet, or so I thought.

A lengthy morning meeting eventually led into noon. I departed for the mall for errands, not knowing it was just a five-minute walk away. The trip between Square One and Celebration Square always averaged at least ten minutes by car.

After procurement of Lindt couverture, I was due to return for my second round of "training" meetings, wolfing down a Gold Bunny just prior.

With my days of being a valid TPL cardholder coming to an end, I began to review outstanding destinations of interest on the TPL Map list. The Toronto Zoo surfaced as a candidate of value, given that no other known source would grant complimentary admission. (PRESTO perks would save 20% at best.)

I successfully reserved a Saturday spot prior to vacation, but, as the day of the planned visit drew near, I found fatigue overwhelming me. There were few days remaining until the job transition, and tirelessly had I slaved within the walls of my house to accomplish all the tasks outstanding.

Grudgingly, I went. Departing at the early hour of 9:30 AM had been my proposal, for risking loss of exercise time was not in the agenda. In the face of inadequate rest, I slid into the passenger seat reluctantly, eventually dozing off periodically with my head bobbing involuntarily over the course of the commute.

There was minimal traffic along our route. By the time we had pulled into the asphalt lot, it was just 10:16 AM.
"Let's leave at 2 PM." I announced.
My browsing partner had nodded in acknowledgement, however I knew it was too good to be true. The concept of time is finite for me, yet (regrettably) fluid for others. As expected, we wouldn't be able to depart until every section of the zoo had been covered. In this sense, it worked in my favour that not all sections were viewable by the due to climatic needs of animals.

​The entrance of the zoo was different from my recollection, likely since ongoing construction resulted in pedestrian detours. Traversing from the parking area to the entrance involved meandering about construction fences at dedicated pedestrian crossings. Signage was ample, thankfully so, as the crossing was situated at the parking egress area, just before the toll gates.

Parking was charged at a flat rate of $20. Visitors had the option of paying via QR code or upon exit with the assistance of a staff member.

​The entrance area was bustling with families with young children even within the attraction's first hour of operation. That said, I found the bathroom facilities quite pristine; whether or not it was owed to the early hour and comparatively lower visitor volumes is uncertain. Kitschy and inviting was the underwater theme. I also appreciated the hooks along the counter for placing bags while handwashing and a hand-drying mechanisms built into the counter, one allocated per faucet and soap dispenser set.

Maps were positioned throughout the facility: one providing an overall view of the zoo grounds and another providing a detailed view of the area in which one was standing.

​I was utterly indifferent to our itinerary, given that my presence was to enable entry (presentation of library card and reservation email; no ID required) and accompany my browsing partner in the leisurely browsing of animals. Had I been visiting for the first time, my approach may have been different, and my response energetic instead of lax.

​Australia was up first, primarily due to its proximity to the entrance/"Discovery Zone".

View the full album HERE !

Ingredient preparations finished the previous day, Sunday would mark the busiest of all weekends with nonstop baking and chores.

A total of three projects would ensue at 9 AM sharp:

1. Granola
2. Matcha White Chocolate Hazelnut Cookies
3. Tiramisu

​The cookies would be produced in bulk, intentionally for the purpose of bidding farewell to all those on my floor. On the other hand, the Tiramisu was an exclusive gift for my supervisor, who had played a vital role throughout my time from the very first day. With the pâte à bombe using two egg yolks, I saw the opportunity for another batch of scale-free granola.

Matcha White Chocolate Hazelnut Cookies

The cookies were adapted from Sunday Baking's 1 Batter 4 Types Korean Famous Ugly Cookies recipe. Instead of splitting the dough for different flavours, the base would be kept consistent for one large batch of matcha cookies.

Theoretically, the total cookie dough base should have weighed in at 350 g x 4 = 1400 g

Add-ins were scaled up 4x as follows:

•  ̶3̶2̶ ̶g̶   → 24 g matcha powder *
•  ̶1̶2̶0̶ ̶g̶  → 130 g chopped white chocolate
•  ̶1̶2̶0̶ ̶g̶  → 130 g toasted hazelnuts

​Yield: 50 cookies

Baked across four trays, the total yield was 50 cookies of roughly 2 inches in diameter. Due to the high proportion of baking powder, the cookies domed instead of spreading. Surface fissures were apparent across all batches; browning was particularly evident on the trays baked for longer. That said, the interiors did not vary vastly in moisture levels in spite of the noticeable colour change.

​I found the cookies generally tasty, but lacking in chocolate and subdued in grassiness. That said, not everyone enjoys the intense complexity of matcha, thus the resulting subtlety may have actually worked in my favour for office distribution.
Textural variance was minimal, as the specimen was mostly dry and crunchy. The amount of baking powder can probably be reduced to enable a soft, pliable center in the next iteration.

Tiramisu

Tiramisu is a creation whose authenticity is often overlooked in favour of simplicity. In reality, the traditional variation is hardly a last-minute compilation.

​Life lately has been exhausting to say in the least. Following my return from vacation, I've been keeping busy with plenty of transitional items, making the most of my last few trips downtown, and, of course, resuming routine as I know it.

While I've yet to review majority of my trip content, flashbacks of fond memories occasionally surface in my mind, paving the way for impromptu creations and detours.

Biscoff Basque Cheesecake

With strong impressions left by Wonder Cookies' vanilla-laced Basque Cheesecake and cream cheese readily available in the fridge, setting out to compile a Biscoff Basque Cheesecake took minimal effort.

Adapted from Sunday Baking's latest Basque Cheesecake formula, my rendition would omit vanilla bean and use 130 g of Crunchy Biscoff spread instead. In place of whipped cream, I substituted an equal amount of evaporated milk by mass. Indeed, evaporated milk is thinner than heavy cream, thus results in a reduction in fat content - and likely silkiness as well. That said, I'd like to think that the incorporation of the Biscoff spread compensated for smoothness in texture (due to existing stabilizers) and enhanced stability.
My final deviation from Sunday's recipe was omitting the step of straining the mixture, as this would separate the biscuit bits of the Crunchy Biscoff spread.

​Sunday instructs baking the cake in a convection oven at 420 F for 20 minutes. By this point, I have learned that my ever-unreliable standard-sized convection will never accomplish the job satisfactorily. The countertop toaster oven was set to 425 F, and my 7.7 inch Instantpot pan was slid within.
I had used a baking temperature of 425 F due the oven temperature settings increasing in intervals of 25 F. After 20 minutes of baking, I used the Broil function for about 1 minute, but quickly cut the heat to prevent the edges from setting too quickly.

The subsequent step was arguably the hardest: Waiting.

The cake was allowed to cool to room temperature on the stovetop before being transferred to the fridge, where it would rest until the next morning.

​After a grueling 23h wait, it was time to reveal the results. Patience had rewarded me: The cake was fantastic - absolutely perfect! 

Read Part 1 HERE !

Having my browsing partner handle the driving portion of the trip was both a blessing and a curse. I had suffered a minimum of two nonsensical tantrums: first in obtaining an IDP (International Driving Permit) and second in retrieving the rental car from the airport. Speed of navigation was also beyond my control. The route and rate at which we travelled was no longer within my ability to adjust on the fly.

That said, I wasn't liberated from being asked the meaning of the fine print underneath the U-turn signs. Such vocabulary was beyond my knowledge. It was also nearly impossible to make out the words while driving through the intersection.

​Smooth, immaculate asphalt and distinct line markings were present on just about every major collector. In particular, multi-use paths saw delineation using blue pavement markings and sodded boulevards.

​We stopped for gas along the way, and I was again confronted with a scenario where my existing Korean vocabulary proved inadequate. Papago and basic English managed to get us by, however.

While we had been assigned an LPG vehicle at the rental shop, we soon discovered that LPG stations were rarer than standard fuel stops. Routing into all gas stations had to be planned strategically as well, for those on the opposing side of the road could not be accessed directly due to the presence of a median. U-turning at the nearest intersection, if permitted, was the only way. ​

​Driving along farm roads, over small overpasses, and down surprisingly linear pathways edged with blue skies and palm trees was an experience unlike any other. The creeks and winding paths reminded me of country roads back home, except exhibiting a far greater degree of maintenance and more frequent sightings of agriculture.

Meanwhile, palm trees had only ever been observed on the West Coast before, in unapologetically sunny Los Angeles. Nature elements evoked memories of roaming North Van. To witness all the above together in one space was an incredible sensation.

Read Part 2 HERE !

As much as my browsing partner had emphasized Jeongbang Waterfall being a "quick" stopover, I wasn't about departing until I had captured the scene as best as I could. Having forgotten my 360 camera altogether (it was in the luggage in the car!), my next best option was to review different angles for a seamless recap.

The O-Sulloc Tea Museum and Innisfree flagship store was located in a distinctly commercial/touristy neighbourhood. Roads and boulevards were wider, signalized intersections more common, and entrance paths grander than the calm and quaint Seogwipo.

​Turning into the asphalt lot, members of staff would direct visitors to vacant parking spaces throughout the space. This approach was effective in maintaining a steady flow of vehicles in and out of the lot, further preventing congestion and crowding at either end of the parking area.

Having arrived just short of 5 PM, I declared that there would only be one hour of exploration time remaining. My browsing partner simply shrugged in response to my half-annoyed tone, a gesture indicative of a lack of accountability for the turnout of events.

A Guide Map was positioned near the entrance pathways to the O-Sulloc Tea Museum and Innisfree store. The two establishments shared the lot, featuring interconnecting pathways and short, recreational trails between the buildings.

​I led the way into the O-Sulloc Tea Museum first. Again, my browsing partner was eager to dismiss the need to be swift and delve into the "museum" component of the facility. Much to my relief, the curated content spanned just a small section of front area of the building. The remainder assumed a tourist attraction, showcasing equipment for tea leaf roasting behind a glass display, an overhead conveyor belt for display of tea bags, and sampling stations to encourage spending.

​The O-Sulloc Tea Museum could hardly be described as a "museum", but rather a tea-based retail store with café and educational elements.

The second morning in the pension was just as serene and breathtaking as the first.

From the upper floor, one could relish in the gradual illumination of the world beyond, without even lifting a single limb. Distinct rays of sunshine peaked through a thick layer of cloud cover, casting a hazy, sapphire veil on all surrounding elements.
​
In the far distance, the turquoise waters of the ocean were also visible. 

​Breakfast comprised of Post-branded granola and a small carton of "Jeju Milk". Unlike back home, individually packaged granola cups did not break the bank. I was also pleased to find a 200 ml portion, as that my ideal ratio consisted of 60% crunch and 40% milk. It should be noted that Korean milk was perceived blander, devoid of the typical dairy-like odour, and featuring a thinner consistency.

​Geunalohu Pension enforced a stringent 10 AM check out time, thus we had awoken early to accommodate the residence's requirements. Re-assembling my belongings, digesting breakfast, readying myself for a long day out took much longer than envisioned.

While I scrambled, my browsing partner began emptying the trash bins, as the check-out instructions had stated, and loading suitcases into the rental car.

Finally, with one shoe on and the other half-laced, I raced into the car. With an audible sigh, I sank into the passenger seat and gazed down at my watch: 10:00 AM. Just made it.

​A combined Naver-Google Maps search led us to 당근과깻잎. Alas, there was absolutely no parking to be found on site. The boulevard of the café faced a minor arterial of sorts; operating with one lane in each direction without shoulders nixed the possibility of stopping curbside for a quick bite. Consequently, we routed onto the nearest side street, resolving to park the car in a cul-de-sac surrounding by agricultural lands (and a walkway fitted with mysterious signage).​

​Without a single municipal warning prohibiting parking - and an tractor attachment simply abandoned on the connecting side street, it could be assumed that all was fair game in the rural territory. In spite of these free-for-all parking "laws", it never ceased to amaze me that the asphalt roadways were maintained exceptionally well (with not a pothole in sight!) and the line paintings brilliant and bold.