​With full confidence, I declare that majority of us have become homebodies as a result of this ongoing pandemic. Involuntarily in the case of eager adventurers, the transition from daily downtown discoveries to dormant, deskbound drudgery was far from facile.
​The inevitable "quarantine fifteen" prevails even in the face of countless up-and-coming online workout channels. And while homemade meals tend to prove more flexible and budget-friendly, the act of composition isn't entirely easy, especially when slotted between periods of tremendous anxiety and impromptu teleconferences.
​
I'm looking to start the roundup with several of the week's creations, as time in the kitchen has constituted for the vast percentage of my waking hours, whether it be a frantic fury of dinner assemblage or the undertaking of sweet treats for the sake of stress relief.

Creations of the week include:

1) Chocolate Chip Cookies​ - the last of the Epicurious batch, to be precise.
​
​Baked in the oven at 350 F for roughly 15 mins, the yield was softer than toaster oven with, oddly, sweeter results. My preference lies with the toaster oven, for it maintains height, limits spread, and leads to an overall crisper cookie. Furthermore, it nixes the need for preheating (and its associated energy wastage).

2) Financiers
​
After adhering to a 12-hour chill - as directed by Sunday Baking - the batter was spooned into madeleine and mini muffin molds. Despite a small mishap along the way (ahem misreading the baking temperature), the results remained stellar.

​In an attempt to recreate my fave specimen from Third Wave, I proceeded to coat a handful of the pastries with melted chocolate and chopped, toasted walnuts; it was a regrettable decision that contributed an excess of moisture, dissimilar to the King East coffee shop's heavenly incarnation. That said, the mighty morsels managed to disappear quite rapidly.

3) Penne with Chicken Breast using last week's fresh tomato pasta sauce
​
I won't even lie: work happenings resulted in complete obliteration of the starchy pantry staple from the grocery list, prompting me to run back for its sole acquisition. The pasta was enjoyed alongside defrosted kale and a shredded Edam & mozzarella blend.

​Frozen pizza, instant noodles, and freezer dinners are three items that were once forbidden in my household. A rule imposed by none other than yours truly, the coronavirus pandemic has since led to the loosening of said reins.

Alas, a whopping twenty-two weeks into the work-from-home situation, I have succeeded in devising a food storage freezer plan. In addition to a sustainable system of sustenance supply, I have scavenged the World Wide Web for reliable dinner concepts, including a reputable recipe for pizza.

By this point, I have several editions of SK's Lazy Pizza Dough, from the ultra-thick 6-hour dough to thin crust, 24-hour slabs of user-induced dampness to the most recent 22-hour optimal Hawaiian. ​Familiarity has been achieved with sticky doughs and the imminent need to bake off pizzas as they are assembled.

Best enjoyed alongside crispy, cheesy 'zzas are solid red ales such as the highly patriotic Laker Red or invigorating Kirin First Press.

On the day where mall errands coincided with a Stuffies' promotional period at Square One, we swung by our complimentary mini Vanilla Bears and Blueberry Fish pastries. The shop had replaced Eva's Original Chimneys in the shared Concept space. Love Me Sweet's stall had also been vacated to make way for Yang Tea Shop.

​Adorning their menu were also sundaes (think SomiSomi's ahboong) and sweet and savoury croissant taiyaki (bookmarked for a later visit to contrast against Snowy Village)

​Neither of the two freebie varieties proved memorable. The blueberry jam encased within the fish was runny, but passable; not a far cry from that of my own, the sauce could easily be replicated with frozen blueberries and my trusty ol' jam - er, bread-maker. The Vanilla teddies were soggy shells housing a watery filling that was seemingly custard in hue. Exuding a barbaric profile of granulated sugar and false vanilla essence, the goopy, yellow solution only furthered its already meek structural integrity.

​Two years - a period neither particularly short nor particularly long. A duration lengthy enough to witness some small changes here and there, yet not enough for making makeover-esque observations.

Hamilton is a city to which I hold a scopious collection of feelings towards, mainly positive with only a handful of unnerving recollections (usually involving homeless citizens roaming the grounds in an irrational manner, in broad daylight, much as we saw in the strip of tents outside FirstOntario Centre).

My last journey to the city (via a personal vehicle) had entailed various happenings at the Hamilton Convention Centre. This time around, I would be venturing further north in the downtown district.
Originally no longer than thirty-five minutes of a drive, a collision on the QEW doubled our travel time, resulting in a delayed arrival at the Hamilton Farmer's Market. I suppose the annoying coincidence worked in our favour, for we caught our primary focus of de la terre in the midst of a brief lunch break.

​In response to COVID-19 health protocols, one-way access and egress was being enforced. Upon securing parking at the York Blvd parkette, visitors could cross southbound towards the market's sole entrance. Exiting back onto York Blvd through a different door was permitted; the same applied to the connecting Jackson Square access.

Some vendor switchups were witnessed: a few had vacated, the curtain had been pulled at Cake & Loaf, Hotti Biscotti was instated on the upper level near the mall access, and Nam Nom operated with a flexible plastic sheet at the cashier counter. Relay's second-floor outpost remained closed, directing traffic to its brick-and-mortar cafe on King William St - which, may I add, isn't too far from Hambrgr.

​The lookout point never ceases to amaze the visitors that accompany my visits.

​Summer and ice cream go hand in hand, as do weekend drives out of the GTA (when fatigue trumps all potential for hiking).

​Some may have found peak COVID periods to be restricting, though I personally found it an all-encompassing exercise of distinguishing the essentials from the ancillaries. And should some of those ancillary acts been near-crucial to one's overall wellbeing, a workaround would have been established. The pandemic hadn't eliminated safe outings executed by residents of the same household, nor had it hindered the progression of essential services and construction projects.

Stage 3 is, frankly speaking, not that extravagant of a departure.

Beyond playing doubles on the courts, making reservations to exercise, and dining in at your favourite restaurant, Ontarians are permitted to engage in their run-of-the-mill, seasonal activities - masks in tow, of course. Social distancing rules apply nonetheless; similarly, mandatory hand sanitization and one-way navigation persist in the "new normal".

​COWS' sole outpost in the province featured quite the steady lineup on a Sunday afternoon. That said, the wait time wasn't nearly as lengthy as I had feared. Some fifteen minutes of lingering under the shade, we were invited into the premises by a masked staff member, a bottle of disinfectant readily harnessed in her hands.

View the full album HERE !

​A creature of nominal wanderlust, few regrets were spared towards Coronavirus' newly imposed limitations on air travel. Weekend getaways - or "staycations", as they are called - are more than sufficient in introducing respite in the chaotic lives of work-from-homers. Vital are changes in one's surroundings, yet with much of our immediate surroundings remaining unexplored, restricting international travel is not entirely a loss for local tourism.

With areas outside the GTA having entered Stage 3, we proceeded with a journey to the KW area. Milton was my previous northwest limit, and it was astounding just how quickly we were able to reach our destination, in spite of the bounceback congestion on 401.

​Adopting the role of a tour guide in a foreign neighbourhood, we commenced with the Kitchener Market with the prospect that it would resemble the two-level Hamilton Farmer's Market at which I had lingered quite fondly.

​To our surprise, access to the main entrance had been temporarily terminated, detouring visitors to an exposed side entrance. The former parking lot had been re-configured for one-way entry, with inanimate and animate guidance in the form of barriers and staff. ​Patrons were expected to pass through the indoor portion of the market, adhering to floor signage, then proceed to the outdoor produce area for egress.

​Given the extremely compact operating hours of the market, it was disappointing to witness majority of vendors in the indoor market remained closed during our visit. Several were slowly commencing setup, though few items were deemed of interest. Caution tape barred the stairway to the second floor, which presumably offered dining in a food court-style setting.

​Veering from my initial plan of obtaining sustenance from the market, we proceeded to explore the vicinity in search of an alternative.

At 2:57 PM on Monday afternoon, I joined the lineup for Bobooya. Food inventory was low at home, thus making for the perfect excuse for a trip to North York.

​Katsuya's "sister brand" had secured a storefront at the densely-populated intersection of Yonge and Sheppard, south of Han Ba Tang and adjacent to Pujukan. ​With the stretch already saturated with similar pub-like establishments, it was a questionable location in terms of competition. However, given the team's success in launching specialized tonkatsu eateries throughout the GTA, I have high hopes for the new venture, which pays homage to their Korean roots.

The peculiar name was derived from their signature items: bossam ("bo") and budaejjigae ("boo"), however the true stunner was the jokbal. The fare was undoubtedly traditional, though zoning in on the niche market was an unprecedented step in the uptown dining scene.

As part of the restaurant's grand opening promotions, five menu items were granted a 50% off discount. Of these five items, only two were devoid of the "spicy" description. The full menu was more extensive, spanning Red Carbonara Bossam and BBQ Cheese Jobkal, but the cash-only event operated on a limited selection.

​Despite being fourth in line, the ordeal demanded a lengthier slot than allocated. Succeeding a 10-minute wait to reach the front counter was 25-minute wait to receive my order. Thankfully, the nearby side street offered parking, albeit enforced by the metre. For commuters, the Yonge Sheppard centre acts as a source of A/C, retail therapy, and, most importantly, toilet facilities.

My order of a Large Bobooya Bossam and Large Bobooya Jokbal was packaged neatly in partitioned, spillproof packaging - Go Topokki-style (which apparently is no longer a go). ​More often than not, my driving tendencies possess the potential for unforeseen calamities. Secure casing was greatly appreciated in this regard; moreover, the recyclable containers prove more eco-conscious than Styrofoam, though are sadly not resealable.

​At 50% off, the meal was a steal with extremely generous portions, wide array of toppings (ssam sauce and fresh garlic!), and phenomenal kimchi - dare I say, the best I've tasted in my lifetime. The quantity of romaine lettuce included was insufficient for wrapping. That said, the leaves were fresh, slightly damp, and free from visible curling or blackened edges.
Leftovers carried us through the week: While the bossam was great on the date of purchase, it grew tougher with each passing day. On the contrary, the jokbal grew tastier, attaining new depths of delectability. Reheating the slices rendered them positively tender, prompting instant dissolution.

​With all that said, undertaking a visit at full price would constitute a topic of discussion. Bobooya's asking price is mind-bogglingly steep, with two large orders totalling over eighty dollars.

​Much as The Tablo Podcast says, maturity is often depicted with a sense of minimalism, eradicating elements extraneous to one's overall functionality. The coming of age and its associated responsibilities as a contributing member of society nixes the need for abundant acquaintances and a house full of knickknacks.

​With each passing day, I strive to reduce the count of material goods embedded in my immediate surroundings, shifting preference of nominal presents from barely familiar faces to financial stability and adequate food supply. This is not to say that the fewer the friends, the better. Rather, it is a nod to new experiences free from unnecessary frills.

The occasional dine-out pays homage to this quarantine-founded concept. Drearily has the past week passed me, with work tasks consuming the bulk of my waking hours (and even some of my subconscious ones in the form of apprehensive dreams). Well overdue was a weekday lunch, and with a crippling craving for ramen, I suggested a visit to Kinton.

Of course, the go-to option has never veered from Kenzo - er, now Kamen. It is with remarkable regret that the re-branded restaurant offers no patio for in-store dining. Thus, the less preferable alternative was sought out.

​Tables were relatively empty at the late lunchhour of 2 PM. The franchise's storefront faced Confederation Parkway, where patrons were successfully shaded from the blaze of the sun though subject to the comparatively less desirable state of wind and rampant dust particles from traversing construction trucks. Despite landing ourselves at a loathsome location of a patio, we proceeded with the meal with consideration to stomach emptiness, glancing back to our vehicle every so often in fear of parking enforcement crews. (What a travesty metred parking spots are.)

​Upon entry, one member of each party was required to input information on a Health Declaration Form. The list requested details including guest name, phone number, entry time, and a signature; a pen - wrapped in neither plastic nor visibly sanitized resided adjacent. In spite of the declarative application, no temperatures were taken. Servers wore masks, though guests were not required to do the same, even when accessing washroom facilities. For the most part, we complied with the masking, even in the absence of others in our 2-metre radius, for the gusts of granular material were as unpleasant as could be.
We enlisted a member of the waitstaff for a wipedown of our sand-speckled table, who took to a damp cloth that brushed ours before immediately navigating to a different one. The utilization of a single cleansing cloth was common practice amongst waitstaff prior to COVID-19, however the scene induced a questionable eyebrow raise in today's times.

Guests were provided the options of individually packaged disposable utensils and plastic cups or the franchise's array of standard eating equipment, inclusive of a funky smelling ladle and Stainless steel water cups.

We took to orders of Takoyaki, Pork Original ramen with thin noodles, and seasonal Chilled Tsukemen, discarding mindfulness of their atrocious prices and overly rich broth in the moment.
Four teensy pieces of very, very average Takoyaki set us back a whopping $5.50. Surrendering bonito flakes to the wind, the morsels were left with tonkatsu sauce and mayo as toppings. For the record, this was an instance where fat (deep frying) did not equate to flavour.

​Those under the impression that Chilled Tsukemen would be on the same page as refreshing Korean naengmyeon couldn't be further from the truth. Thick starchy noodles coated in an obscene amount of oil was delivered to the table, sans dipping sauce. I appreciated the generous portion of sesame seeds, as well as the grated daikon. For a Japanese establishment though, I expected wasabi that was less powdery and scallions more finely chopped. The dish was far too slick for a summer afternoon - or any meal at any time of day, really - leading me to halt consumption within a few mouthfuls, despite being famished. The soy broth, once it eventually arrived, was also heavier than expected. Surprisingly, the two thin slices of pork shoulder were the least greasy of the entire composition.

​Much like sushi, carbohydrates is a food group I could never possibly surrender. Complex or refined, they deserve distinct placement in my diet and serve as valuable sources of energy.

Day-to-day activities rarely deviate from the standard cycle of work, errand-running, chore-doing, and cooking, so when the opportunity to make a departure from routine arises, I'll gladly oblige.

I had bookmarked Tatsu's Bread for several seasons, though had constantly put off the drive as neither its coordinates nor operating hours were in agreement with my schedule. As the loaf on our countertop began to wither away to nothingness, I took it as a sign to venture along Lakeshore and snap up the last of the day's assortment.

​To the left were pastries: individual cake slices and pudding cups; to the right were the various varieties of bread. Situated in the centre were cookies, croissants, muffins, and the like. A chalkboard menu hung high on the wall, just behind the cashier.

We took to a range of items before retreating back into the car, requesting disposable forks for consumption as the dining floor remained closed. With the exception of the Egg Bread and Cheese Stick, the remainder of our purchases were subject to HST - quite regrettable as these two happened to be the highlights of the visit.

​Devoured in the car were a Chocolate Roll Cake, Lemon Roll Cake, and small Chocolate Croissant. Despite the croissant being less flaky than desired, the roll cakes were an interesting afternoon snack. Exceptionally moist with a layer of jam sandwiched between the sponge and whipping cream, neither piece proved particularly satiating. Lemon was the airier specimen of the two, unsurprisingly, while Chocolate featured a rather tart profile (with questionable bits of crackle reminiscent of crushed eggshells). 

​Consumed at a later point in time were two Pecan Tarts (not me) and an inexplicably mushy Potato Bagel. ​

A gustatory experience is a sensory undertaking - one that ought to be anticipated, savoured, and then relished in the subsequent moments.

​To succeed as an entity offering fare for the people, one must first define a niche market. The next step is to grasp an understanding of the demographic, their baseline, and inclination towards dispense of disposable income. In today's class of Basic Business, we shall review a case (study) of two cafés - one notably new to the St. Lawrence neighbourhood, the other established in East York.

​mon K is a longtime occupant of its primarily residential district, offering Japanese-inspired French pastries in a cozy coffee shop context. Parking is an anxiety-inducing nightmare for driving disciplines, and, while available, is subject to payment by the meter. The patisserie is as renowned for their elaborate cakes as their dissent of credit cards; cash and debit are the preferred methods of money exchange, though e-transfer is also offered (no PayPal here).
The pastry selection is quite vast, spanning from macarons to complex dome desserts. A similar approach was adopted for the beverage menu, though it sufficed to say that there was but a single row that succeeded in instigating appeal.

​Service was lacklustre on both occasions, as was the quality of the $2.95 twelve-ounce cups containing what couldn't possibly be Iced Coffee, the meek paper straws, abhorrent abundance of ice, and weak, watery profile indicative of the staff's commitment to customer satisfaction. Regrettably, the bakery items revealed no distinct difference: overpriced, soggy, and bearing atrociously minimal filling was the Pistachio Custard roll; relentlessly sugary to a fault was the $5.95 Mont Blanc. T'was indeed an 이불킥 moment for yours truly.

As the sole physical retailer for Momo Tea, I had considered bestowing upon the patisserie second chance, yet it was just one more than deserved. The experience was anything but endearing, leaving behind an unequivocally negative impression.

​​Stomachs filled but contentment levels unquenched, an alternative named Third Wave Coffee was sought out.

​Entering the tenth (!!) week of quarantine, the GTA has been met with an extraordinary heat wave. Needless to say, many have tossed social distancing policies through the window at the arrival of such balmy conditions.

I've more or less maintained my regular schedule of work and chores, and have taken the liberty of remaining in the air-conditioned indoors for my overall wellbeing. Humidity is, honestly, not my closest friend.

​Re-entering my life are runny soft-boiled eggs, which previously emerged overdone without reasonable explanation. Other ingested items include: DELISSIO Deluxe with a spongy crust, a Mango Dragonfruit Lemonade Refresher from Starbucks, and more Chocolate Chip Cookies - baked at 25 degrees Fahrenheit higher for extra crunch.

​Reviewing my creations of the week, the standout item is undoubtedly my Matcha Shokupan. Adapted from Bake For Happy Kids with the inclusion of matcha powder and dried berries, the result was delicate and stringy, though far too moist for sandwich bread usages.

​Along the way was an error on my part, even though the root cause is undetermined as of yet.