Returning to the office following Civic Holiday long weekend ought have assumed a task free of resistance for me. Unlike my fellow colleagues, the weekend had proved relatively calm with merely gym visits, baking, and cleaning having taken place.
Alas, fluctuating fan levels would make for horrendous sleep. I would awake just before 4 AM, then flit between sleep and consciousness until 5:16 AM. I stood up adamantly and adjusted the thermostat settings, an act I should have done sooner. Settings restored to an acceptable sleeping temperature, I immediately fell into a slumber, only to be rudely woken by my alarm one hour later.
Suffice to say, surviving the morning emerged challenging. Cold Brew from home would keep sane for a few hours, though I knew I'd be due for caffeine intake around lunchtime.
Alas, fluctuating fan levels would make for horrendous sleep. I would awake just before 4 AM, then flit between sleep and consciousness until 5:16 AM. I stood up adamantly and adjusted the thermostat settings, an act I should have done sooner. Settings restored to an acceptable sleeping temperature, I immediately fell into a slumber, only to be rudely woken by my alarm one hour later.
Suffice to say, surviving the morning emerged challenging. Cold Brew from home would keep sane for a few hours, though I knew I'd be due for caffeine intake around lunchtime.
 |  |
Due to having two meetings sandwiching lunch hour, my period of exploration would be reduced accordingly. A brisk walk would be undertaken, allowing me to arrive at 18feet Espresso Bar & The Cheong within 20 minutes.
Nearing Gerrard and Church, I saw flashing lights.
Nearing Gerrard and Church, I saw flashing lights.
"It can't be..." I silently prayed that the location of the incident would not be before the Korean café of interest. But of course, it was.
A backpack-donning young male was spotted articulating details to two paramedics as the patient was transferred out on a stretcher. That said, it was uncertain whether the situation had taken place at my chosen POI of the afternoon.
A backpack-donning young male was spotted articulating details to two paramedics as the patient was transferred out on a stretcher. That said, it was uncertain whether the situation had taken place at my chosen POI of the afternoon.
Inside 18feet was an exceptionally neat and inviting interior, with clearly defined areas for lounging and ordering. Seating would be distributed between two floors separated by a short staircase: small tables on the same level as the entrance and bar seating on the upper level across from the cashier. To the left of the order pickup area was a shelf of branded merchandise, De Mello coffee beans (Dancing Goats), and Hokusan Niju Matcha. Further left was a condiment stand with straws, a fanned tower of paper napkins, and chocolate powder cannisters for further customization of drinks.
18feet had made headlines for being the first in the city to specialize in "cheong", otherwise known as a Korean jam/compote. Initially, I had contemplated the café's signature Strawberry Cheong with a shot of matcha or espresso. Alas, extreme exhaustion and sleep deprivation from the previous night would immediately replace the desire for cheong with caffeine, prompting the request for a Café Latte with a shot of matcha. The cashier hesitated for a moment before proposing the alternative of a Matcha Latte with a shot of espresso, which was pricier but likely easier to construct due to the order of matcha and espresso preparation. While she inquired whether the preference lay with a hot or iced rendition, she hadn't bothered to ask of my preferred size, automatically tacking on a dollar extra for the Large. The Premium Matcha Latte was already priced steeply at $5.50 for a 12 oz./Regular; the upsize and extra espresso shot would set me back another loonie each, bringing the total to $6.50 plus tax. I was informed of a 10% off promotion for following the coffee shop's Instagram account. Amusingly, the cashier did not wait for me to show her confirmation of following before applying the discount. The grand total of my dirty matcha was $7.32.
Boasting beautifully defined layers, my first sip was rather sweet. Subsequent sips were noticeably less sweet, allowing one to perceive the roasted aroma of coffee and mellow grassiness of matcha. With fine ice cubes comprising of nearly half the cup though, the drink quickly grew watery. Condensation would also begin to form extensively along the outside of the cup, causing damp, frigid fingers on the trek back and a puddle on my desk when back in the office. Wu Wei's approach with the single cocktail-style ice cube had been eliminated these issues, ultimately proving superior, particularly during warm, humid temperatures.
 |  |
My visit would also entail a visit to the single bathroom stall, which was did not require a key for access at my time of visit. The space appeared compact from beyond the door, but was, in fact, quite spacious within. Surprisingly clean and well-maintained were the facilities. Flushing capabilities of the toilet were also confirmed resilient, and toiletries adequately stocked. The only aspect that took me by surprise was the use of beige paper napkins in place of commercial grade brown paper towels for wiping hands.
 |  |
I had departed with the drink and descended down two steps, then hastily made the decision to re-enter the premises to determine whether the 10% off discount would apply to purchase of products, such as matcha. Unfortunately, the promotion would not be extended past 18feet menu items. Nevertheless, Hokusan had resided on my radar for some time now, and the labelled price was lower than Ninetails, albeit just by a dollar. Raw materials are usually never taxed, but both shops had noted HST as a viable charge. This had me taken back, but I presumed it a result of the vendor having charged HST on the business' wholesale purchase.
One 40 g tin of Nijú would ring in at a whopping $32.77. "This better be worth it." I griped silently. Medium and large jars of cheong were also available: $13 for 8 oz. and $20 for 16 oz. While curious, I refrained from investing in a portion on the basis of not wanting to carry the glass bottle back home. Moreover, I'd likely be able to recreate the jammy concoction with minimal effort.
One 40 g tin of Nijú would ring in at a whopping $32.77. "This better be worth it." I griped silently. Medium and large jars of cheong were also available: $13 for 8 oz. and $20 for 16 oz. While curious, I refrained from investing in a portion on the basis of not wanting to carry the glass bottle back home. Moreover, I'd likely be able to recreate the jammy concoction with minimal effort.
The return trip was also executed with a sense of urgency. Instead of my usual route, I proceeded south along Church, then turned right onto Dundas to continue west. Infamous for crime and homelessness, the status of the intersection has only worsened over the years. Within minutes of traversing along Dundas, I'd come face to face with the aforementioned residents of the streets. Bracing myself for escape in case of unprompted aggression, I hurriedly weaved past.
I looked up briefly, noting the current occupant of Sharetea's old location as Egg Club - soon to be one of The Food District's newcomers.
Two fire trucks and yet another ambulance would be observed before Blaze Pizza. Officers crowded about a seemingly intoxicated man crumpled on the floor. Steps away was another figure curled up outside the entrance of Shake Shack. Needless to say, there was no shortage of security guards at the perpetually busy - and filthy - intersection of Dundas and Yonge.
I looked up briefly, noting the current occupant of Sharetea's old location as Egg Club - soon to be one of The Food District's newcomers.
Two fire trucks and yet another ambulance would be observed before Blaze Pizza. Officers crowded about a seemingly intoxicated man crumpled on the floor. Steps away was another figure curled up outside the entrance of Shake Shack. Needless to say, there was no shortage of security guards at the perpetually busy - and filthy - intersection of Dundas and Yonge.
At 4 PM, I'd hurry home for another Tuesday evening Zumba class. In spite of having high hopes for the session, the instructor was late by 8 minutes. She apologized for the tardiness, but also did not extend class in consideration of the class occupying the following slot. Energy levels were kept consistent with the last class, as was the choreography and sequence. While not a single change had been made to the choreography, the instructor forgot the moves several times. I had somewhat remembered the choreography, allowing her to recall the move from watching me. The chosen genres spanned Afro, pop, Bollywood, and country, making for an interesting mashup to practice building groove and intention. Of course, Peaches as a cooldown track was gladly received.
 |  |
At the end of the class, the instructor praised me for my energy levels, even suggesting my status as a dancer - which I am definitely not. (I haven't even mastered counts and beats!) Another fellow student, a middle-aged lady, also praised my dance skills, bringing about a wide but shy grin.
It is undoubtedly these moments that encourage participation in group classes, simultaneously deterring from membership cancellation.
It is undoubtedly these moments that encourage participation in group classes, simultaneously deterring from membership cancellation.
Horrific stomach pains had rendered me lifeless the following day, thus nixing exercise in all its forms. Even when I returned to the office some ten hours later, queasiness had yet to subside.
My baking coworker had brought along her rendition of SK's Strawberry Brita Cake for the early birthday celebration of a member of management. Although its constituents hadn't varied extensively from its inspiration, its visuals were hardly comparable. Smothered with whipped cream, transported within its a 10 inch springform pan, then decorated with a plethora of oddly shaped meringue kisses, the cake was clearly a homemade creation.
Being without much of an appetite, I opted to take a slice home for sampling. The lofty butter-based cake, desaturated strawberries, and hefty layer of whipped cream had deterred me from sampling on site. I was also unkeen towards her unnecessarily rushed nature towards food.
My baking coworker had brought along her rendition of SK's Strawberry Brita Cake for the early birthday celebration of a member of management. Although its constituents hadn't varied extensively from its inspiration, its visuals were hardly comparable. Smothered with whipped cream, transported within its a 10 inch springform pan, then decorated with a plethora of oddly shaped meringue kisses, the cake was clearly a homemade creation.
Being without much of an appetite, I opted to take a slice home for sampling. The lofty butter-based cake, desaturated strawberries, and hefty layer of whipped cream had deterred me from sampling on site. I was also unkeen towards her unnecessarily rushed nature towards food.
 |  |
From the moment my headphones had been set down, she piped up, "There are only two slices left. Did you want to take one now?"
Her proposal to cram a slice into a small container in fear of the remainder disappearing from the office kitchen was met with my offer to retrieve a larger one, for squished cakes are no one's favourite.
I found her creation still contained in its springform pan. A quarter of the cake remained, forming at least 4-5 slices for the average person (but 2 for her standards). A Stainless steel knife had been slid inside its circumference, and a layer of foil roughly covering the surface. The treatment stunned me, for the bottom of tin was now evidently scratched with knife marks. It reminded me of my own rookie mistakes with pies. Alas, she batted not an eyelash, claiming the pan to be just a mere $2 product from IKEA's As-Is selection. Should you ask me, the most frequently used items should be subject to better treatment to ensure an sustained duration of usage.
Further concerns would prevail when she reached toward the stack of commercial grade paper towels to handle the slice. I succeeded in preventing the hasty approach, but she still could not refrain from intervening with the process. In the midst of carefully transferring the slice from the pan to my container using two knives, she aggressively shoved the container closer to the cake, causing cream to smear on its side. I had actively been avoiding this predictable consequence, for I neither wished the exterior of my container to become greasy, nor the exterior of the cake to be damaged. In the end, I couldn't understand the hurry. No one in the vicinity was preying on cake, nor was I ravenous for such a substantial slice early in the morning.
Her proposal to cram a slice into a small container in fear of the remainder disappearing from the office kitchen was met with my offer to retrieve a larger one, for squished cakes are no one's favourite.
I found her creation still contained in its springform pan. A quarter of the cake remained, forming at least 4-5 slices for the average person (but 2 for her standards). A Stainless steel knife had been slid inside its circumference, and a layer of foil roughly covering the surface. The treatment stunned me, for the bottom of tin was now evidently scratched with knife marks. It reminded me of my own rookie mistakes with pies. Alas, she batted not an eyelash, claiming the pan to be just a mere $2 product from IKEA's As-Is selection. Should you ask me, the most frequently used items should be subject to better treatment to ensure an sustained duration of usage.
Further concerns would prevail when she reached toward the stack of commercial grade paper towels to handle the slice. I succeeded in preventing the hasty approach, but she still could not refrain from intervening with the process. In the midst of carefully transferring the slice from the pan to my container using two knives, she aggressively shoved the container closer to the cake, causing cream to smear on its side. I had actively been avoiding this predictable consequence, for I neither wished the exterior of my container to become greasy, nor the exterior of the cake to be damaged. In the end, I couldn't understand the hurry. No one in the vicinity was preying on cake, nor was I ravenous for such a substantial slice early in the morning.
Its cross-section had been promising, but one lick of the cream had me lurching with disappointment. The topping had apparently been stabilized with a smidge of cream cheese and sweetened with honey in place of sugar, not that either were perceivable in the final product. Plastic-y, satiating, and bland, I almost did not want to swallow; its profile appeared to lack the luscious flavour of fresh dairy, leading me to contemplate whether no name had been used in place of Neilson, Sealtest, or Lactania.
The entire cake was sampled later that evening. Sodden and excessively sugary was the base, for it had absorbed plenty of syrup over the course of the day. Mushy were the softened strawberries, and still bland was the cream. Two cautious forkfuls had proved sufficient for my sampling: I wasn't a fan.
The entire cake was sampled later that evening. Sodden and excessively sugary was the base, for it had absorbed plenty of syrup over the course of the day. Mushy were the softened strawberries, and still bland was the cream. Two cautious forkfuls had proved sufficient for my sampling: I wasn't a fan.
 |  |
Lunchtime would send me on the prowl for Pineapple Buns. Marathon Café's downtown location had initially assumed a contender for a bun-and-milk-tea combo, though its compact store quarters and steep prices deterred me from the saunter. After all, Pineapple Buns that weren't baked fresh on site did not warrant price points of $2.80 (plus tax) apiece. Pineapple Bun sandwiches and spinoffs were, as expected, even costlier at $8 and up.
Instead, I opted for Hong Kong Island Bakery. Between Mashion, Chinese Bakery, the Atrium's Kin-Kin, there was yet one bakery that had proved themselves worthy over my many years of exploration. Hong Kong Island had indeed succeeded in living up to its eighty-cent Pineapple Bun reputation, prompting a summertime stopover.
 |  |
A Custard Pineapple Bun and Coconut Pineapple Bun assumed the picks of the day. Although priced twice as much the bakery's signature Pineapple Bun, they remained considerably affordable compared to other less equitable establishments in the neighbourhood.
The addition of a Small Hot Yuan Yang would cost me two dollars more, setting me back a total of $5.60 after tax. It should be noted that, while the buns were only subject to 5% tax (GST), the milk tea-coffee mix would be subject to 13% tax (HST). Needless to say, this transaction would be carried out in cash.
The addition of a Small Hot Yuan Yang would cost me two dollars more, setting me back a total of $5.60 after tax. It should be noted that, while the buns were only subject to 5% tax (GST), the milk tea-coffee mix would be subject to 13% tax (HST). Needless to say, this transaction would be carried out in cash.
I scalded my tongue shortly after emerging from the shop. The beverage was indeed milky and indeed hot. One could neither perceive strong notes of coffee nor assam tea, though the concoction emerged balanced and served its function as an afternoon pick-me-up.
Observed on the other side of Spadina was R&D, and a smaller familiar logo adjacent to it: Daan Go Cake Lab. I sauntered over out of curiosity, laying eyes on Dainties' physical storefront - are stuffed macarons (588) still popular? - and marvelling at the persisting existence of Icha Tea.
I entered into the eatery, which had now shifted bar operations to further within the dining area, making room for a Daan Go display and compact cake packing area near the entrance. A mother-daughter duo entered just seconds before me, then proceeded to hover before the display whilst deciding their flavours. The sole employee of the cake counter, a young male heavily decorated with piercings (one on the nose and at least two on the left ear) and Frankenstein-esque stitch tattoos on his hands had greeted the two women, yet turned his head as I approached the checkout area. He was in the process of finishing a cake order, carefully positioning the toppings with ungloved hands, then leisurely transferring it into a box, taping the candle, and sliding the box into the fridge behind him. Not once did he gaze up towards me, nor the other lady who had entered. Though immediately setting down the task at hand isn't necessary, he could have at least acknowledged our presence: "Hi there, I'll be right with you." would have sufficed.
In spite of my lunch hour quickly coming to a close, I patiently waited until he had snapped out of his trance. Only then did he swiftly navigate away from me to check in with the mother-daughter duo instead. I had intended no more than to ask a simple question, and was frankly in awe to be treated with such audacity. Saying hello shouldn't be that hard. Neither should being courteous at a fundamental level. What is a customer service representative that does not provide the bare minimum of service? Gen Z truly really lives life selectively, which in turn causes Daan Go's loss of a potential customer. I exited the premises before I could see whether he chose to acknowledge the lady behind me who had hurriedly grabbed two pints of ice cream.
I entered into the eatery, which had now shifted bar operations to further within the dining area, making room for a Daan Go display and compact cake packing area near the entrance. A mother-daughter duo entered just seconds before me, then proceeded to hover before the display whilst deciding their flavours. The sole employee of the cake counter, a young male heavily decorated with piercings (one on the nose and at least two on the left ear) and Frankenstein-esque stitch tattoos on his hands had greeted the two women, yet turned his head as I approached the checkout area. He was in the process of finishing a cake order, carefully positioning the toppings with ungloved hands, then leisurely transferring it into a box, taping the candle, and sliding the box into the fridge behind him. Not once did he gaze up towards me, nor the other lady who had entered. Though immediately setting down the task at hand isn't necessary, he could have at least acknowledged our presence: "Hi there, I'll be right with you." would have sufficed.
In spite of my lunch hour quickly coming to a close, I patiently waited until he had snapped out of his trance. Only then did he swiftly navigate away from me to check in with the mother-daughter duo instead. I had intended no more than to ask a simple question, and was frankly in awe to be treated with such audacity. Saying hello shouldn't be that hard. Neither should being courteous at a fundamental level. What is a customer service representative that does not provide the bare minimum of service? Gen Z truly really lives life selectively, which in turn causes Daan Go's loss of a potential customer. I exited the premises before I could see whether he chose to acknowledge the lady behind me who had hurriedly grabbed two pints of ice cream.
 |  |
The buns were retrieved from the large paper bag upon returning to the office. Adorning the surface of the Custard Pineapple Bun were a few slices of toasted blanched almonds. Meanwhile, the Coconut Pineapple Bun adopted the characteristically oval shape of a Coconut/Cocktail Bun. Both specimens were within the range of standard bun sizes, invoking a breath of fresh air since my encounter with Fragrant Bakery's puny parcels over the weekend.
I'd sample the Custard Pineapple Bun on the spot. The delightfully golden top shattered with every application of pressure, yielding to reveal a plush interior and plentiful, eggy custard. Despite my earlier deductions of low appetite levels, the creation undoubtedly re-introduced a penchant for expenditure. While a tad sweeter than Akko, it boasted a spectacular topping-to-bun ratio that hadn't been witnessed elsewhere, a generous amount of filling, and seemingly ceaseless shards of golden, egg wash-topped cookie. Before long, the bun had vanished in its entirety.
 |  |
The Coconut Pineapple Bun would be sampled the following day after reheating in the toaster oven. Consistent was the scrumptious pineapple bun topping, yet lacklustre were the coconut-y contents. It lacked both the aroma and cragginess associated with Cocktail Buns, and also saw a reduction in filling quantity. Generally speaking, the creation was devoid of an overall sense of cohesion: they hadn't been fused in a manner that suggested harmony.
With that said, I'm glad to reinforce Hong Kong Island as a satisfactory choice for budget-friendly Pineapple Buns. As for variations on the classic take, including BBQ Pork or Cocktail Bun fillings, I'd likely seek alternatives.
With that said, I'm glad to reinforce Hong Kong Island as a satisfactory choice for budget-friendly Pineapple Buns. As for variations on the classic take, including BBQ Pork or Cocktail Bun fillings, I'd likely seek alternatives.
Happenings of the week have comprised of more cleaning and organization. Alas, in spite of the grand efforts invested, results were hardly visible, causing much despair.
 |  |
My browsing partner suggested viewing the process like construction, an industry with which I am all too familiar. I was assured that, while the process is lengthy, messy, and without immediate rewards, the finished product usually warrants the strenuous, ongoing labour for a better future.
 |  |
Work-from-home days also saw ingestion of Heineken 0.0 and the compilation of a Passionfruit-Yuzu Cold Brew Fizz.
Meals of the week included Choy Sum/Gai Lan and Short-Grain Rice served with: Steamed Pork and Tofu, Tomato, Carrot, Potato, and Pork Soup, Scrambled Eggs with Chive and Pickled Turnip, and Steam-Baked Salmon with Ginger and Scallion.
RSS Feed