Out & About #1004 | Chambers Steakhouse, Hadestown Musical + Mango Cream Cake

In the past few months, I've come to learn that adulting is a constant phase of change. The varying degrees of its impact differs from person to person, given one's financial situation and familial/external relationships. Discussion with peers inevitably leads to comparison, but, in ideal cases, mutual growth as well.

"Nothing could have ever prepared me for this moment." I found myself thinking time and time again.

Between Mugwort Lattes, House Hippo favourites, White Chocolate Macadamia-Pecan Cookies, and COBS Bread Challah smothered with Lindt Chocolate Spread and topped with fresh strawberries were merely pockets of time for exercise and compiling to-do lists.

Mango Cream Cake

A singular creation graced my countertop, its construction spanning half a day and cleanup procedures lasting until the late hour of 11 PM.

​With mango season rounding the corner, a case of quickly ripening Ataulfo mangoes entered the household. They were delicious on their own, of course, but there was absolutely nothing stopping me from creating my own layered mango cake after countless sightings of T&T's miniature cup renditions.

Lending inspiration from Chinese bakeries, I determined the requirement for an airy, chiffon-like base, yet one that wouldn't collapse when piled high with fillings of cream and diced mango. Turning to the Sheldo's Kitchen once more, I'd adhere to the 6" recipe, but construct a total of two rounds for testing purposes.

​The baking time would be extended to 60 minutes to allow doneness across both cakes. A toothpick would emerge clean from both; as I turned from one to the other, though, deflation took place instantaneously. Inverting the cakes onto a cooling rack with swiftness was not an option, as the sinking action commenced practically the second from the moment the cakes were removed from the oven.

Due to other responsibilities, the cakes weren't removed from their parchment-lined moulds until later that evening. While my primary fear had been dryness, keeping the cakes inverted and bottoms sheathed had caused excess moisture to form on the underside, consequently making for damper rounds that demanded more care in handling.

​I opted to test two variations of the cake: a 2-layer edition with barely enough cream to fill the centre and the top (similar to the original recipe) and a 3-layer edition with layers thinner than 1 cm. The latter was far more challenging to assemble, for the sponge's extended period in the pan had compromised structural integrity

The whipped cream filling was formed without measurements of any sort. A 473 ml carton of heavy cream was poured into the vessel of my stand mixer, for there would be no better opportunity to test its maximum speed setting. Icing sugar, vanilla extract, and vanilla bean paste would follow. The mixture was whipped until soft peaks formed. I was wary of the cream becoming overwhipped, thus kept a watchful eye while multitasking about the kitchen. In the end, I was in the clear.

Frosting the cakes was a tedious and stressful ordeal, at least for the likes of me. Swapping to a metal piping tip ensured clean strokes, while the scraper assisted in ensuring a smooth exterior, camouflaging blunders ranging from cracked, uneven cake layers, crumb fallout causing contamination, and lopsided stacking.​

After residing in the fridge overnight, the creations were deemed ready for sampling the following afternoon.

Neither variation yielded flawless slices. Vanilla bean-speckled lobs of cream oozed out from between the sponge. Chunks of mango escaped the stack, rolling onto the serving plate and wedging themselves onto the knife. Nevertheless, the cross-section was beautiful: wonderfully airy, golden layers of sponge that - as odd as it may sound - truly tasted like cake.

For lack of a better description, the concoction tasted "real". In contrast to the barely-there slices of birthdays past, my version embraced evident layers of cake tinged with the subtly sweet essence of vanilla. It become obvious to me that most bakeries hadn't relied entirely on eggs for aeration, but likely summoned the assistance of baking powder for added volume (and production yield). The same commentary could be extended towards the cream filling, which was more plastic-y than vanilla-y, having earned its stabilizing powers from roux (ermine) or gelatin.

Despite comprising of essentially identical components, the 2-layer and 3-layer editions evoked slight differences. The 2-layer version allowed for distinct differentiation between the various components; this was not say that harmony was not achieved, but rather that the individual elements could be identified without distracting from a sense of cohesion. The 3-layer version presented a comparatively smoother transition between the cake and cream. Although the constituents did not blend together ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶m̶u̶s̶h̶  like Saint Germain, the textural differences were less apparent. This was a peculiar observation, for the 3-layer edition had utilized greater quantities of cream and mango without inciting a deeper impression.

The cakes each had their merits, and I enjoyed them both. By the fourth day of QCing, however, I was more than ready to move onto alternative flavours.

​Before there was much of an opportunity to recover from the previous week's happenings (and Sunday's Mother's Day outing, I found myself back in the office - haggard, weary, and uninspired. Of course, my outward appearance wouldn't reflect even half of these deep-seated emotions.

​The morning was a tad chilly, and even overcast enough to threaten steady rainfall, but then gradually cleared to yield sunny skies with a sheer absence of cloud cover. In conjunction with humidity levels, the outdoor conditions were essentially reflective of summer.

​At Union, Demetres would be providing sample-sized tubs of their newly launched ice cream pints. Although the website had noted a start time of 7 AM, the booth was still undergoing setup around 7:45 AM, eliciting me to return during lunch and join the queue.

Amongst the selection were:

• Cocoa Chanel
• Double Baked Apple Pie
• Dulce & Banana
• Lemon Curd Blueberry
• Maple Pecan Crunch

​The line moved at a slower pace than normal, as visitors had the option of picking their desired flavour. That said, it barely spanned five minutes in total.

My pick of Lemon Curd Blueberry ultimately proved to be a bland, miserable attempt at "ice cream" comprising of a greater proportion of stabilizers than dairy and artificial flavourings. Dissolution speed was atrociously swift as well, failing to retain its shape by the time I had reached Bay/Adelaide from Yonge/Dundas.

​A sparetime spin-off stall was spotted on the ground floor retail floor, but evidently yet to open to the general public.

​Without much else of interest in the area, I proceeded to retrace my steps northward through the PATH.

​Eventually, the underground corridor proved too toasty and I exited onto street level. The opportunity enabled a detour towards the St. James neighbourhood.

There, I caught sight of my "happy hour" destination for the following day, The Poké Box's longstanding first location, and, a downtown classic, a homeless man hunched over, nearly folded in half.

​Simultaneously relieving myself of unexpectedly high mercury levels and celebrating the first day of Summer Drink Days, a medium-sized Iced Coffee from McDonald's was obtained. One surprisingly useful takeaway from my Yu-Gi-Oh x Hello Kitty and Friends Happy Meal toy hunt was familiarity with the geographical coordinates of all nearby outposts of the fast food franchise in the downtown core.

Despite instilling a sense of coolness, the coffee was simply not potent enough to sustain me for back-to-back meetings for the remainder of the afternoon. Moreover,  it was also far too milky for my preferences.

My baking coworker had graciously brought Banana Walnut Muffins for sharing. They weren't half bad, but bore staggering similarities to her Pumpkin Cake (excessive baking soda? Baking powder? Or both??) and contained an overwhelming amount of oil.

​The following office day commenced with hazy skies. Nearing Nathan Phillips Square, one would stumble upon a handful of tents and metal gates surrounding three freight trucks.
A quick search confirmed the event to be a fundraising event known as the Second Harvest Truck Pull. It operated in a similar fashion to any fundraising event, in which a registration fee and minimum donation amount was required for participation. Teams of 10 fundraising over a given amount would be permitted a chance to pull the freight truck across the square.

​Come lunchtime, the sun had emerged from behind the morning's grimness. In the absence of teammates and afternoon meetings, I deemed the day a perfect opportunity to seek out snacks from Chinatown. Specifically, I was looking for Chinese-style bakery buns, but from none of the bakeriesket situated along Spadina.

T&T proved the most economic and reliable, thus I began meandering northwest. Along the way, I spotted a handful of new openings, including a downtown outpost of Ninetails Coffee.

Upon entering the ground floor of the superstore, I found the dining area heavily utilized and One Zo's previous kiosk taken over by an ice cream-milk tea hybrid shop by the name of Snowbaby.

​A number of promotional items were advertised throughout the store: From Pokémon Oreo pies (?) to $7.99 Hokkaido condensed milk, I was overwhelmed by the unexpected selection and spent a good twenty minutes simply browsing.

In the end, I emerged with a Pineapple Red Bean Loaf, for it was cheaper than any individual Pineapple Bun (specialty shokupan edition, mango-topped, or other), three 100 g pouches of roasted chestnuts, a repulsive bottle of supposedly HK-style Coffee, and discount instant Vietnamese coffee mix. To my surprise, the loaf contained a swirl of whole red beans as opposed to a sweetened red bean paste filling. Although a tad drier than expected, slices of the bun were still tastier than fellow Chinatown counterparts - definitely more than passable.
The scrumptious fried Sesame Balls first acquired at the Fairview location was also spotted and promptly procured.

On the way back, Chicha San Chen's newest downtown location was spotted. The tea franchise had been announced a rapid expansions, with an outpost proposed near the intersection of Yonge Dundas after their Chinatown and Markville openings.

Majority of my belongings would reside in the office as a humid evening fell upon the city. Foodrealm had extended an invitation for Happy Hour at Chambers, a self-proclaimed "steakhouse and supper club" located along the same stretch as Terroni Adelaide.

​I would anticipate my trek to span no more than 15 minutes, and I was correct. My arrival had been accurately timed to coincide with the event start time of 4:30 PM.
As I reached into my tote for my camera however, it dawned on me that the device had been forgotten in the office. In consideration of foodrealm's delayed arrival, I reluctantly retraced my steps in the heat, once again unable to avoid perspiration.

Chambers was located on the second floor of the Rosewater heritage building, accessible by two flights of carpeted stairs or an elevator for accessibility. My arrival in the lobby was met with a cheery smile from the hostess, as well as a cozy, upscale ambience. Behind the reception counter was a backlit fixture of the restaurant name in cursive. To its left was a quaint seating area and fireplace; to its right was a corridor leading to an outdoor deck and individual washroom facilities.

​I excused myself to freshen up in one of the many compact stalls. They were on the narrower side, but managed to house all the necessary elements: a toilet, toilet paper roll holder, sink, and sizable oval mirror - complete with temperature adjustment features. Admittedly, I found it strange that paper napkins placed in a wire basket were used in place of hand towels or a mechanical hand dryer, given the overall aura of the establishment. The same observation would be extended towards the flimsy, wired toilet paper roll holder, which tipped over effortlessly as I attempted to retrieve the last roll from its base.
Returning to the reception area involved descending one platform step. With the floors adopting a glossy sheen and consistent black-and-white palette, the difference in grade could be easily missed if not careful. Those donning heels and/or those with a few drinks in the bloodstream would benefit greatly from a hi-vis delineator - perhaps yellow and black striped warning tape or even cautionary signage.

Being guided beyond the reception area allowed me to observe a Grand Piano, a luxurious bar area with emerald and gold stools, and the restaurant's signature cherry blossom tree installations. The decorative shrubs comprised of artificial white blossoms illuminated by magenta spotlights to evoke the essence of an eternal (indoor, air-conditioned) spring without ever having to venture beyond the downtown core.

​I joined foodrealm at a semispherical booth by the window. As she transformed into attire fit for Happy Hour, I took note of my surroundings in the meantime. Checkered coal placemats on black wooden tables contrasted against the white cloth napkins and shiny silverware. The menus would adopt a similar black-white colour scheme, featuring the Happy Hour menu on a double-sided menu panel. 

​The visit had been scheduled in advance of the dinner service, which would start at 6 PM. Our waitress had provided us with the dinner menu for our consideration, nothing that portions would be larger, with a comparatively fair price tag. Given that the mission at hand was to showcase the happy hour items though, the offer was politely declined.

At the early evening hour, a total of four parties occupied the seating floor. The minimal volume was handled adequately by two junior staff members, one senior staff member (waitress), and one sommelier. About four members of kitchen staff could be spotted from our seat, conversing minimally while undertaking preparatory activities.

My intent to order wine summoned the sommelier to our table. The Wine Sampler on the Happy Hour menu listed Chardonnay, Pinot Grigio, Malbec, and Rioja as the four available styles. Being utterly unfamiliar with all varieties of red wine, the latter two required further details to be provided. When the sommelier explained that those two had been replaced by Cabernet Sauvignon, I recoiled slightly, for red wine was hardly my beverage of choice. He offered to allow me to try them anyway and, in review of the menu's asking price for standalone glasses of wine, I accepted the offer.

Chardonnay and Pinot Grigio were as anticipated: fresh and exuberant. While I was able to distinguish the "medium-bodied profile" and "darker aura" of the two reds forming the quad, I still had difficulty depleting the specimens. The refined restaurant's lack of rosé or sparkling wine struck me as peculiar, for my perception of a standard sampler was a set of four unique formulas - similar to the unofficial flight compiled by Cave Spring's neighbour, Inn on the Twenty.
Nevertheless, my consumption levels fared better than my partner-in-crime. Despite advocating sobriety, her drink request resided with a glass of Pinot Grigio with a splash of cranberry juice. She hadn't intended to drink it, but merely desired a "pinkish glass" for photo-taking purposes. Our waitress, knowing this, proposed a cocktail/mocktail such that the glass would dually function as a backdrop prop and beverage. To my surprise, the non-drinker declined. Tap water would, apparently, suffice.  Meanwhile, I'd request warm water to appease a queasy stomach.​

​A bread platter with condiments had been delivered by one of the junior members of staff. She proceeded to introduce each of the condiments in a linear fashion, but I couldn't help observe a deficiency of remarks extended towards the halved slices, extending to even the style of bread.
"Is the bread made in house?" I inquired, receiving a hesitant "Yes." in response.
There wasn't a specified order to enjoy the butter, feta and oregano, tomatoes, and marinated olives. Equivalently, neither had the sampling order of wine.

Plucked from the Happy Hour menu were the following:

• Mushroom Agnoloti with Lobster
• Branzino Taradito
• Winter Green Salad
• Tempora Rock Shrimp

My dining partner expressed distaste towards Oysters, and merely capitalizing on the outward appearances of the dishes. "Food is food. I'm not a picky eater." had been declared beside me. I couldn't necessarily agree with the sentiment, for not all food is made equally. Dining out presents an opportunity to experience entrées that may seldom/never materialize in one's own home - to relish in the creativity of and evaluate the culinary skills of trained professionals. Needless to say, I wasn't about to suggest an item that could easily be recreated at home, or one that utilized unappealing, economic ingredients.

The Mushroom Agnoloti with Lobster arrived first. Topped with a single lobster tail, sprinkled with bits of mushroom, and garnished with purple-veined microgreens, the dish embodied a fall colour palette in an arguably all-season amalgamation. Albeit delicious, its constituents weren't very memorable. Brimming with umami was the sauce, which we later reserved for coating the yam chips chaperoning the Branzino.

​Having been described as "ceviche"-like, the arrival of the Branzino Taradito surprised with its compact layout and sashimi-style arrangement. The ceviche in my mind comprises of a greater number of cuts: chunks of fish and other crunchy elements marinated in citrus. But the dish laid before us was nothing of the sort. I attempted to liken the dish to 7 Enoteca's crudo, though detected a greater proportion of pickled components to olive oil, an ingredient that would have beckoned a distinctly Italian take. A vivid orange drizzle, pickled root veggies, and sliced peppers with the seeds removed succeeded in contributing a punch of fieriness. That said, the seasonings did not succeed in eradicating fish odours.
Branzino was a species that I had strongly associated with Italian cooking: usually primed with oil and grilled to exude a wispy, crisp surface. Given that it was a leaner fish, the heavily acidic and spicy additions had appeared to stiffen the slices, overwhelming their inherent consistency and masking its attributes with saturated add-ons rather than accentuating them.

It was my understanding that Chambers had intended to start off as a Japanese steakhouse, embracing East Asian fusion elements while drawing inspiration from the chef's Mexican origins.
"Ahhhh." I nodded in acknowledgement. The décor choices had certainly been consistent with this objective, though the entrées appeared to remain in the R&D phase.
"We're still figuring out our identity." the experienced waitress admitted. And I would concur with this statement, for culinary concepts are often easier contemplated than executed. 

Appended to the order list was the Winter Green Salad. The waitress had earnestly recommended the dish, even depicting it to incite the image of a beautiful, snow-covered field - contradicting my hypothesis of the salad being formulated using winter veggies as opposed to seasonal produce. Alas, the emergence of the dish failed to align with the previous narrative. Graced with a smoky, fumy fragrance, the salad embraced a generally light green hue with a slick veil of dressing. Layers of butter lettuce and iceberg were alternated at the centre of dish, while pieces of endive were arranged in a fan format along the circumference. A few shards of shaved cheese and brush of guac-tinted sauce acted as the finishing touches.

Nevertheless, it was a scrumptious salad, with just enough dressing to glaze the tops of leaves without drowning them or causing disintegration.

​The least impressive was the Tempora Rock Shrimp. Despite being larger than the typical izakaya order, the platter did not retain sufficient character to distinguish itself from the countless variations of tempura shrimp I've sampled in my lifetime. Pleasant to the senses of sight and taste were the gently charred edges, squeeze of creamy tartar (ranch?) sauce, and careful placement of microgreens. The interior of the shrimp was juicy, but regrettable was the lack of airiness in the supposed tempura batter.

​Concluding the meal was a Lemongrass Crème Brûlée, for neither the Gelato nor Black Sesame Cheesecake was available.

Arranged on top of the specimen were fresh strawberry slices, halved blueberries, a somewhat deflated mini meringue kiss, and a feather-shaped cookie. Icing sugar and an abundance of edible gold flakes were also not to be neglected. The lavish presentation was greatly appreciated, as was the crisp surface and delightfully eggy base. Embodying the herbaceousness of lemongrass and pudding-like texture of chawanmushi, the dessert served to cleanse the palate, rather than satiate, as richer variations of crème brûlée are often guilty of. Beyond the Chardonnay, the palm-sized ramekin was likely my favourite item of the meal.

Dining at Chambers had been a splendid experience, not one moment devoid of exceptional customer service nor a captivating interior design element. As mentioned previously, the identity of the restaurant remains unclear at this point in time, thus making it difficult to categorize the cuisine comprehensively.
For those looking to relish in a tranquil, early supper, the Happy Hour menu provides a range of tapas that could also serve as dinner items. That said, one ought be mindful of the associate price tag, for our chosen assortment, inclusive of alcohol, came to a whopping total of $200 before tax and tip.

Next up on the agenda was a musical performance at the Ed Mirvish Theatre.

The opening night of Hadestown would constitute my first-ever musical experience!

Evidently, we weren't the only ones excited for the show, for the venue was positively brimming with patrons eager to catch a glimpse of the Greek mythology-inspired work. Following verification of tickets, we filed into the lobby of the theatre and slowly navigated towards the washroom facilities. The queue had extended past the doors and into the corridor, enabling wafts of butter popcorn to be perceived. While the first floor offered merchandise and popcorn for purchase, the second floor boasted a bar area, water fountain, and additional washroom facilities.

​With five minutes left to the start of the show, we made our way back down the stairs towards Row C. Programme pamphlets were distributed at the door, detailing the song list and noting any intermissions. At 8:30 PM, the lights dimmed to reveal the cast. Photography and videography would be forbidden from that moment onwards.

The performance told the story of a young couple, who found their way into Hades' Underworld amidst tough times and a quarrel. The first half of the show allowed for recognition of the actors in their given roles, and further identified those that had hailed from a dance background versus a vocal background. Acting experience was also apparent: Navigating the stage while dancing, handling props, articulating scripts with overflowing emotion and perfect pitch was no simple feat.

​​Lighting and built-in stage elements contributed significantly to the performance. On the main stage was a circular conveyor belt that could would facilitate movement the actors about a central point, usually the character of the hour. Props would also descend from above and be swung - with incredible precision, might I add - mid-song. All of these elements assisted in elevating the performance, contributing a sense of fantasy that would otherwise be unachievable beyond Disney animations. I was awestruck, and also astounded at the sheer extensiveness of the show. Intermission, the termination of "Act 1", would take place about the midpoint of the show. The second half would form "Act 2", and continue until the late hour of 10:30 PM.

During the intermission, most guests headed towards the bathrooms. On the upper level, a member of staff had undertaken queue management responsibilities, gesturing for the next person to move forward in the presence of an empty stall.
Disposal of empty cups, acquisition of merchandise, and impromptu photoshoots along the stairwell also took place during this time. Prior to the continuation of the show, an announcement could be heard overhead. We were first given a five-minute warning notice, then a one-minute and, finally, ten-second countdown until the doors to the auditorium would be closed.

This procedure eliminated the entry of late guests, clearing the scene of any potential disruptions and allowing the audience to focus on the stage and its actors. I silently commended the crowd management measures, for it ensured discipline and respect of all attendees, unlike the often liberal nature of stadium shows.

Being more acquainted with the concert scene, my musical attendance revealed the existence of an entirely different demographic. The average age was higher than most K-Pop concerts, which is to be expected, and spanned couples, families with adult children, and small groups of friends. The dress code was business casual, usually a neutral shade accented with a dramatic, glittery accessory. This was a group that appreciated art, perhaps in various mediums, but weren't about to groove, dance, or sing along. With the exception of applause and cheers, the performance was largely kept separate from its viewers, proving to be significantly less interactive concept than a concert. In fact, my enthusiasm and lack of stillness had caused few nearby audience members to glance over, probably in wonder of my constant movements. I was simply reacting to the show in real-time, as one tends to do when deeply invested.

​My first musical experience had been absolutely wonderful. Although I can't foresee myself investing upwards of $100 in casual entertainment, I appreciated the complimentary invite immensely.

We parted ways shortly afterwards, with me heading back to the office to retrieve the rest of my belongings. My browsing partner had graciously agreed to provide a solution for my homebound logistics. Along the way, we passed by a miFuel gas station, which had temporarily been renamed as "Vought Petroleum" for filming purposes.

Weekend activities would involve a morning trip to Heartland, followed by a Costco venture for Kopiko candies.

​Of course, my cart was populated with much more than just the 1 kg container. Craisins, pecans, Popcorners, and Potato Salad were amongst my other unplanned purchases.