Weekends for the average adult are catch-up days. Those tasked with raising young children may beg to differ, though this statement will likely hold true for the vast majority of societal contributors. (Adult-aged children need not apply.)

Rising earlier than I do on the standard work-from-home day, I prepared myself for a 9 AM arrival at Costco on Saturday morning. The entirety of the grocery list was obtained in under ten minutes, though not without intense frustrations with the sleepy polar bear, who offered to assist in the morning warehouse run for the first time ever and delayed it with the purchase of a single Hash Brown (Oh, the never-ending Hash Brown woes!).

​Returning from Costco (and a fully-charged lecture about attaining base goals before adding innovation into the equation), I transitioned into chores and the heavily unanticipated, annual tax return process. Lunch was consumed swiftly, then supplemented with snacks of homemade Cha Siu (not executed by yours truly) and a fizzy orange juice-mango passion jam medley.

​From the glossy sheen to magnificent marbling to crispy, charred edges, the homemade rendition was not only far more delectable than Magic BBQ, but economic as well.

​The evening hours were scheduled to spent at an escape room with friends. Leading up to the appointment, I began to suffer queasiness in the stomach. Just as I had readied myself, the sleepy polar bear informed of having departed solo, without prior confirmation of my intents. With less than twenty minutes left to the booking slot, I raged with incredulity and hurried hopped into my own vehicle to make up for lost time.

Thankfully (or not so thankfully), my extreme speed guided me to the facility in sixteen minutes. Much to my relief, our commencement time was not strictly enforced.

​Browsing the archives, I realized that my last escape room experience had taken place in December 2016. Pricey admission, paired with a tiresome commute into downtown Toronto, had unfolded into a relatively dismal turnout with minimal excitement. Given this record, I had turned down escape rooms for good, much like pho. Alas, one positive experience was all that was needed to turn the tables.

In reviewing room choices and prices for HintHunt and Trapped, I learned of the current market prices for a sixty-minute experience: $30 to $40 before tax. These were extravagant rates to me, for the event is brief and level of enjoyment is entirely dependent on the facility's "Game Master(s)".
When go karting was eliminated as an alternative, I took matters into my own hands, eventually securing a stellar deal on Groupon for Escape The House. It was, by far, the most budget option possible: $64 after taxes for a group of four, or $16 per person.

​Upon arrival, we signed our names on the waiver and were instructed to place our belongings in a locker. Any device capable of capturing media were prohibited to preserve the integrity of the game room, and reasonably so. The key would remain with us until after the game session.
Adjacent to the lockers was a single stall bathroom. It was surprisingly clean, despite being a unisex stall, though I grew progressively wary of the toilet's restrictive flushing capabilities.

There were three rooms on offer at Escape The House: Turbulence, Trapped, and Last Stop Motel. When my first choice of Last Stop Motel was fully booked, I entered onto the waitlist but booked Trapped in the meantime. The waitlist notification was never received, thus we merely continued with Trapped.

A briefing was provided by one of the staff members prior to entry. Beyond walkie-talkies, unlimited hints, and cautionary warnings about ceiling panels and biohazard signage, we would be given a rundown of our room format.

S​POILERS AHEAD!

"I'll be hermiting within for a month." I had declared upon returning from Calgary. "A month, if not more - whatever it takes to finish."

And while I've proven loyal to these words, my endurance is withering. Exhaustion perpetuates as I tirelessly sort through the expanse, simultaneously balancing matters demanding attention in the present. 

In the days following Valentine's, I munched on the remnants of my chocolate creations and smiley fries to assuage me till Friday.

​These crisp rounds with ketchup-gushing eyes were paired with kale (of course) and a bottle of Heineken into which I mixed a few glugs of Yuzu Choya, then immediately regretted.

Read Part 1 HERE !

​Returning to the hotel with less than forty minutes till we were to report downstairs meant hasty moves. In order to remove all obstacles in my path, the sleepy polar bear was urged to remain in the lobby as I scurried about the room, fixing my makeup and unveiling the second bulkiest pair of footwear in my luggage.

Getting ready in a foreign environment is never an easy feat. As such, I was grateful for the choice in ceremony venue, and consequential minimal travel time.

​At the core of this last-minute Calgary trip was the wedding celebration of my dear friend. Our friendship commenced in ̶t̶h̶e̶ my first year of high school, persisted well into university years, suffered a brief period of stagnancy during the post-grad, job-hunting phase, and was ultimately revived upon reaching some degree of life and career stability.

​Having witnessed how several of her past relationships had unfolded, I was extremely thrilled at the news of finding her Mr. Right.

​The exchange of vows took place in a conference room at the basement level of our hotel. Family members had ventured far and wide to assist in room setup, wedding dress train handling, and, most importantly, to witness the "legal joining in matrimony" of two loving parties.

It was a tremendous honour to partake in the ceremony, for the primary constituents of the audience were family members. A total of three Torontonians made up the close friend list in attendance.

For at least one week, I had contemplated the possibility of swirling three flavours into Sunday Baking's Mochi Brownie. Success had been seen with both the original in a loaf pan and swirled with matcha in a standard square baking pan. I continue to experiment with my stash of Paragon tea powders, as eager to unlock new flavour profiles as to deplete them before expiry.

​Commencing with the mochi layer, I exercised caution to prevent scorching of the mochi mixture. Ever since replacing our microwave, I've noticed the need to reduce reheating times by at least 20%. This mochi was no expectation, for ten seconds on full wattage had rendered it lumpy and rigid. Water was gradually mixed into the dough in an attempt to reinstate its chewy qualities.
The result was acceptable, albeit thinner and retaining less structural integrity than desired.

​For any future mochi-crafting endeavours, it is recommended to grease the bowl beforehand. The spoon spatula pictured in Sunday's video was a great alternative to the flat scraper spatula, providing more control and kneading power.

​Next came formation of the batters. The original recipe called for two eggs. Despite having contemplated doubling the recipe and making two loaves (chocolate-matcha swirled and chocolate-oolong swirled), I ultimately opted to utilize three eggs instead of four. Adhering the roughly the same formula as my reduced sugar Oat Fudge Bar layer, I painstakingly prepared three batters.

This was a truly tedious process. While the original chocolate layer was a breeze to prepare, Matcha and Oolong required first melting white chocolate callets and butter together, then portioning them out as evenly as possible before whisking in the respective tea powders.
A total of four bowls piled in the sink, including the one for mochi. Then came the spoon spatula and three whisks. Instead of the "one-bowl, hand-mixed" format that SK often advertises, I had - accidentally, mind you - embarked on the path of more dishes.

Even with each layer comprising of only 46 g of granulated sugar, the result was still too sugary for my liking. I allude this finding to the existing sugar content in the white chocolate couverture, for I had not experienced this issue with semisweet Surfin.

The middle of the week saw Jinyoung's long awaited solo EP release. In the office, I could hardly reveal my excited demeanour, especially with a new member of staff seated directly before me the entire duration of the day.

"Cotton Candy", as well as the other four tracks on the album were played on loop that day - both in the office and the commute home.

​When lunchtime arrived, I decided to venture a bit further than normal.

Mercury levels have begun to stoop this week, easing into a drizzly conditions hovering about the freezing mark. This climate conjures reluctance to head outside, and instead pairs well with indoor activities and cozy beverages. Nestled next to me, as I grudgingly undertake manual labour that ought be - and could easily be -automated, is Mr. Buttons.

The marshmallow-topped mocha in the last month has been swapped for a feel-good detox of yuzu, ginger, and lemon. Meal choices have similarly gravitated towards warm broths with subtler profiles. A bag of macaroni dating back to peak COVID grocery restocks was unveiled; the pasta was paired with kale and blanched pork shoulder strips in pleasantly tart tomato soup accented with sweet onions.

Resulting from an unfulfilled trip to Thornhill were persistent cravings and curiosity towards Filipino bakery and kakanin offerings. It was only a matter of time before this thirst for knowledge prompted my own rendition of Sapin Sapin. Without any familiarity with the authentic version, I relied heavily on YouTube sources to guide me through the process.

In the absence of ube extract, I utilized pandan. In order to minimize the number of dishes, I turned towards my toaster oven instead of setting up the steamer. In the face of a constant stream of emails, I skipped the step of sieving the mixture before steaming. Lastly, in an attempt to re-purpose the remaining quantity of coconut milk from my Pandan Honeycomb Cake experiment, I converted the measurements from US to metric and scaled the ingredient amounts accordingly, admittedly hastily while rushing through the tutorial at 2x playback speed.

One of my biggest goals was to finish the remainder of my Vancouver content, though I quickly realized the limitations of both my Premiere knowledge and index finger strength (for nonstop clicking). At the same time, it was impossible to resist some form of interaction with the outside world before the end of the year.

​I proposed hotpot, a cuisine format I rarely dabble in, for supper, then partaking in countdown festivities at Celebration Square. The sleepy polar bear welcomed the idea, though noted that family matters may impact its execution.

Surely enough, their household's sluggish departure from London delayed our plans. Reminding the sleepy polar bear that we would need to undertake four stops in addition to washing, preparing, and cleanup procedures, the amount of allocated time was insufficient to proceed with the original agenda. Doing what I do best - if I must say so myself - I called for an urgent meeting, contemplating possible solutions within the constraints and outsourcing assistance as needed.

We opted to maximize our team efforts: while the sleepy polar bear undertook the grand mission of procuring salmon, I would complete my own round of errands before venturing southeast to P.A.T. for beef and pork shabu shabu. Another member of the party would assume pickup duties for Haemul Pajeon and Kimchi Jeon from Myungdong Kalguksu; the arrival of the pancakes were scheduled to coincide with the hotpot start time, such that sogginess would be kept at minimum.

The setup process was a joint effort by the sleepy polar bear and yours truly, who had brought and donned her own for the task. Other attendees did not extend a helping hand by default and, even when asked, there was an unashamedly brazen one that simply declared, "I just came to eat!" before turning back to voice seemingly dreadful concerns of "having too much vacation" left over. That's one member that won't be invited again. House gatherings are team efforts, not maid-making opportunities.

While we commenced on washing the greens, mixing the broth, and roughly chopping half of a lavishly priced salmon fillet, the others were asked to assist with transferring ingredients to paper plates. Only one arose from the couch, first absentmindedly cutting the paper plate instead of cutting the packaging of the fish balls.

Eventually, at 7:09 PM, the food came together. We were, more or less, on schedule.

I had brought along an exclusive makgeolli purchase for sharing. Kim's Soon Makgeolli (864) had actually been the reason for jeon acquisition. Albeit lighter and less chalky than the Jinro edition, I nonetheless suffered the same slow, crippling headache as my Albion hike on the following day. Korean liquor has not been proving to sit well with my body lately.

The party ceased consumption around the 8:15 PM mark, as per my expectations. Between 8:30 - 9:00 PM, the sleepy polar bear and I engaged in cleanup measures. Some brought bowls and plates to the sink; some twiddled their thumbs and yakked away.

We then set out for Celebration Square. In review of road closures, the old Empire Studios parking lot was selected. For the first time in seven years, I'd be embracing the new year locally.

The cookies were baked the next day. Though nicely puffed when removed from the oven, each icing sugar-topped round began to deflate within minutes. Identical circumstances had been witnessed with the Peppermint Crinkles from the Holiday Cookie Box, though I couldn't quite figure out why.
Hummingbird High's Ube Crinkles had used baking powder, but SK had taken to baking soda, likely due to recipe's quantity of brown sugar. I recalled baking soda as an ingredient conjuring an instantaneous reaction, meaning that batters and doughs should be baked immediately after construction. The chemical leavener would also require some form of acid to initiate the reaction. In this case, it would be the molasses contained within the brown (or golden) sugar. While this wouldn't have proven problematic if the cookies were shaped and baked right away, it limits storage flexibility and prohibits staggered baking.

​The holiday season is a time of intense indulgence. Beyond increased intake of chocolate truffles and rich, boozy beverages, dining out tends to take place more frequently. For the most part, I'm not very inclined to venture out into the cold, wait to be seated, wait for food, then return home two (or more) hours later. The sleepy polar bear, on the other hand, rarely adheres to a designated schedule and would much rather invest in permissiveness than active attainments.

​Travels to J-Town led to the presentation of day-old products from Bakery Nakamura: A Yakisoba Bun, Keroppi-style Matcha Melonpan, and Strawberry Shortcake. The bun was revealed fluffier than expected, though satiating in its carbs-on-carbs construction. Kewpie mayo and a squeeze of wasabi alleviated such heaviness.

The Strawberry Shortcake, from which I had requested a mere half slice, was airy and, admittedly, delicious. That said, I'm not one to enjoy copious amounts of fruit cakes with whipped cream. The 3/4 inch slice was perfectly adequate.

​I ventured towards midtown in the earlier half of the week, for schedules simply aligned better.​ The office was more or less vacant, yet I enjoyed my time nonetheless.

​A southbound sojourn led me to Kay Gardner Beltline Trail.

​A southbound sojourn led me to Kay Gardner Beltline Trail. The bridge, decorated with local art installations, overlooked Yonge at Merton Street as well as the TTC Davisville Yard and headquarters building.​

Just when I thought the sleepy polar bear's revulsion towards raisins were childish and abnormally choosy, the office crowd proved the popularity of this opinion, deserting a raisin-filled banana bread loaf in favour of the chocolate chip-containing rendition.

​Typically, my in-office days of late have been spent exploring the cardinal directions of the intersection. When the need to undertake a mid-day venture downtown emerged though, I jumped at the opportunity to extend the lunch break and explore the unknown.

​Boarding Line 1 southbound during the lunch rush made for an interesting trip. The train was noticeably less congested than the afternoon peak, yet busier than in the morning. As we pulled into Wellesley station, I caught sight of a filthy blanket entering my peripheral. Huddled underneath the grimy mess was a red paper cup and a mop of mental instability. I was fortunate enough to be far away enough to escape any potential interaction, though a girl who had found herself next to an empty seat was not so lucky.

I exited at College station, first out of intent and second out of contingency; I was not looking forward to any further happenings in that passenger car.

​The trip had been centred about Le Génie, a bakery that I learned of for nearly one year, yet never visited due to its inconvenient coordinates.

Gargantuan pastries and elaborately decorated cakes filled the display case. These specimens were larger than the typical puff pastry, yet also exponentially pricier.

​Beyond their impressive assortment of baked goods, Le Génie also served espresso-based beverages and wine, complete with a wine fridge against one wall of the asymmetric establishment.

​My first pick was the Vanilla Flan. Reminiscent of an egg tart, the $7.38 delicacy contained a semi-viscous custard speckled with vanilla within wispy thin layers of puff pastry. I had been expecting a looser consistency to fill its cavity, along with more widespread fragrance to be perceived.

The buttery, flakey shards were lovely, but the filling left a little to be desired.

One of the most despicable acts to witness is that of someone failing to accomplish a task despite being given comprehensive direction, adequate resources (and sources for additional resources), and sufficient time for execution. The absence of independence startles me, while the absence of critical thinking frustrates me. These statements could, very well, be targeted towards a certain someone, but also extends to those in our immediate surroundings - colleagues and friends, for example.

​As someone who has accumulated both incredible mileage and an extensive mental geographic database, it may come as a surprise that I, in fact, despise driving. I'd opt out of it if public transit routes were satisfactory for my needs, but they're not - at least not at this time of writing.
When the concept of carpooling crossed my mind, I was eager to propose it to my potential co-commuter. It was received with some hesitation at first, but we discussed quickly to narrow down plausible logistics.

​The first day was met with success. Not only did I arrive earlier than if I had driven solo, I was liberated from the pressure of staying awake behind the wheel.

​Moreover, I was granted the opportunity to obtain breakfast.
Slipping by the party of eco bag-carrying street civilians, into the only McDonald's in the two-kilometre radius, a Cranberry Orange Muffin was secured.

​Lunchtime marked the proposed delivery for the Thai ahgase's Holiday Cookie Box. She would be the last donator to receive her share, namely due to the fact that our sole chance of crossover would be in the city.

​Upon completion of the mission, I speedily trekked northbound to maximize the remainder of my mid-day respite. Elaborate lattes from the Himalayan Coffee House had been on my mind, but the distinctly above-seasonal temperatures deterred me from the hot drink purchase.

​By the time I realized I had passed the establishment, the desire had receded. Continuing to march along the east side of the street, my surroundings evolved to emit a primarily residential aura.

​Without much else of interest in the area, I turned into Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens, a quaint park with rustic cobblestone steps (albeit uneven ones).

"It sounds like you've just gone and made a lot of work for yourself."
Which was absolutely true.

The intent to do good often requires little to no persuasion, however fundraising is always a topic warranting thorough contemplation and strategic risk-taking. Taking preorders was the first step in ensuring a manageable amount of requests, for it allowed to allocate resources, furthermore the logistics needed to obtain those resources. Conducting test batches (858) was another worthwhile venture, though not always feasible given the constraints of time and other duties, such as full-time employment, chores, and other previously made commitments.

And the date of delivery inched closer and closer, I grew increasingly more anxious. My planned baking/test batch-making days were overruled by fatigue, work overruns, and comparatively more pressing matters. In spite of having made and frozen two out of six varieties, there was still much to do. Even Sunday Baking will admit that constructing a cookie box solo is no easy feat; it would only be fitting that a total of seventeen boxes would demand a proportional amount of effort, time, and - gosh, it pains me - wrist strength.​​

​The sleepy polar bear's stand mixer was not very useful throughout this process. The mixing compartment lacked in depth, holding even less than the standard Pyrex and Zwilling mixing bowls in our household. The compartment could not be used to melt butter, thus requiring an additional bowl for microwave use and, consequently, more dishes. The shield was absent, meaning that flour would fly upon turning on the lowest setting. I made a makeshift shield using plastic wrap, though could not deter loose bits from escaping the bowl.
Overall, the contraption was finnicky, and lacked clarity in its lock mechanisms. One wrong move could lead to damage to the digits or worse. Even my budget food processor and Bodum grinder bore a greater number safety features and symbols. Most notable of all was its weight - so hefty that the first time I attempted to lift it from the box, I nearly strained my back. I struggled to brush the dust and dried dough off the device, an act that the sleepy polar bear should have undertaken prior to sending it over for use. The fact that buttons and knobs were placed on both sides of the mixer meant more counter space would be needed for smooth operation. My working space was very limited, reducing the efficacy of the tool.

To conclude, a solid Zwilling whisk - or even a hand mixer - would have sufficed for my purposes. But my wrist was in tremendous pain, to the point of sensation loss in some fingers. I gave stand mixers a shot, however quickly determined its misalignment with my baking habits.

My Holiday Cookie Box comprised of five types, with flavour variations resulting in a total of seven different doughs:

• Peppermint Crinkle
• Linzer Cookies
• Snowball Cookies (Oolong, Injeolmi)
• Mini Gingerbread
• Cutout Cookies (Vanilla, Matcha)

​​Peppermint Crinkle
These were formed in the earlier half of the week - with minimal deviation  from the earlier edition beyond the swap from Piccoli Surfin to Callebaut - formed into balls, and frozen for use later. Given their extremely pliable consistency, the chill time aided in rendering them structured enough for swift coating in granulated and icing sugar before baking.

Linzer Cookies
As Sunday Baking had yet to release her own take on this recipe, I sought out Cho Hanbit and doubled his recipe for Linzer Cookies. Naturally, I would proceed to utilize my own jam recipe, incorporating frozen strawberries instead of blueberries or cherries for a smoother, tarter profile.
Cho Hanbit's formula was exceptionally soft and made several trips between the fridge and freezer before all the rounds could be cut out. Despite a far lengthier prep time than expected, the results were scrumptious: crunchy, sandy, and lightly tart from the jam. (Do be warned that these cookies are the first to succumb to sogginess, so eat them as quickly as possible!)