A White Christmas graced the GTA this year. Between the Eve and the Day, temperatures hovered about the negative single-digits, allowing for preservation of snow until all festivities had ceased.
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In contrast to past years (save last year in Montréal), where celebrations ensued on Christmas Day, we altered our feasting plans to align with the opening hours of majority of restaurants. There was little inclination to undertake the usual array of fare, for my body was exceedingly exhausted by the back-to-back errands, cookie construction, and chores that had taken place in the days prior.
This year, we turned to Swiss Chalet's Festive Specials for much-needed relief from kitchen labouring.
This year, we turned to Swiss Chalet's Festive Specials for much-needed relief from kitchen labouring.
The Festive Special Double Leg and Festive Half Rack each included a side of choice, warm dinner roll, and holiday accents such as stuffing, cranberry sauce, and a five-piece Lindt truffle set. The duo provided just enough for two meals for two small eaters.
Accompanying each entrée was a scratch card, similar to Tim Hortons' Roll up the Rim or McDonald's Monopoly campaigns. Our winnings consisted of a complementary Starter Salad and Spring Rolls or Pierogies with purchase of entrée, valid until next March.
With the HST holiday in effect and delivery fees waived, the bill came to a grand total of fifty dollars. Black plastic containers and plastic carrying bags had been shed in favour of paper packaging and paper bags. The lack of insulation prompted the delivery staff to ensure the order was retrieved in a timely manner such that the food would not turn cold outside. I appreciated the gesture immensely, along with the earlier-than-scheduled arrival.
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We dove into the meals with vigour, excited to sample Swiss Chalet's signature rotisserie chicken after numerous dismal encounters with the Costco (sickeningly greasy) and Loblaws (pasty and limp) editions. The spread did not disappoint in the slightest! Boasting tender flesh underneath a crispy skin, the only complaint we could form with regard to the Double Leg was its unexpected saltiness. The Chalet sauce was identical to the recollection from my childhood, albeit now presented in a smaller container.
The Half Rack was quite dry in comparison, bearing little to no meat. Without the Honey Garlic sauce, the bones were merely smoky but flavourless. The ribs were decent, but provided minimal sustenance.
Surprisingly delicious were the sides and, in particular, the stuffing. The Loaded Baked Potato harnessed the heartiness of the Russet family, the nutty crunch of bacon, and the lusciousness of melted cheese. Chive-enhanced sour cream truly sealed the deal, offering a cool creaminess in the face of savoury carbiness. I also enjoyed the cranberry sauce, which paired excellently with the chicken, and coleslaw.
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Christmas Eve lunch would conclude with truffles, an exchange of cards and presents, and, of course, a swift cleanup.
Come Christmas Day, I'd undertake yet another round of errands. Congee Queen was one of the few eateries open for the statutory holiday, thus I hurriedly completed a pickup before the crowds settled in. Even at the incredibly early hour of 11:30 AM, the restaurant (and parking lot!) was positively bustling.
In the evening hours, I geared up for my browsing partner's Christmas dinner. The event marked my first foray into the another household's traditions, simultaneously presenting an opportunity to adorn myself in dangly penguin earrings with bells, a Santa graphic tee, and my trusty plush Santa hat. Bidding farewell to Larry and the crew, I'd be off.
Being the second last attendee to arrive, the turkey had been already been carved and plated. Soups and sauces were distributed between the table and counter. I assumed my position behind the wine as an introductory speech was delivered. Shortly after, a queue formed around the plates and starters.
I shied away from the gargantuan bottle of red wine, instead taking to the smaller bottle of Cyser-Apple Mead Honey Wine. The corked bottle had apparently been gifted as a souvenir from PEI. Its contents were representative of its name: a golden, honey-tinged formula with a distinctively sweet, floral base. Despite residing on the cloying side, the wine was nevertheless delicious, and I depleted nearly half the bottle myself. (Spoiler: this decision did not sit well on a near-empty stomach and nausea surfaced about four-five hours later.)
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Interestingly, the party did not place much emphasis on dessert. Once the seemingly endless supply of plates, forks, and spoons had been cleared away, a tray of homemade tiramisu was brought to the table.
Homemade gingerbread and chocolate chip cookies, chocolate-covered shortbread sourced from an East York bakery, and partially-melted truffles would serve to supplement the selection. I viewed these single serving bites as an uncommon approach, for the most fitting sweet finish is a lavish cake with slices for all.
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This is, of course, not to be confused with the Tiramisu being underwhelming. Plush layers of barely-soaked ladyfingers, a cream that was neither too cheesy nor rich, and a plentiful dusting of grated chocolate had me devouring the portion I initially offered to share with my browsing partner.
With one doubtful glance at my plate, I was told, "Just finish it. I'll take another piece."
Nodding in agreement, the last bite was scooped away and a smaller piece was positioned in its stead.
With one doubtful glance at my plate, I was told, "Just finish it. I'll take another piece."
Nodding in agreement, the last bite was scooped away and a smaller piece was positioned in its stead.
Card games and gift distribution eased us into the late evening. And then, by the 10:30 PM mark, all attendees had vanished. The parents were eager to rush the kids home for bedtime.
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Three containers of leftovers tagged along my journey home, including cookies I had been too full to sample the night before. Already telltale from their appearance, the chocolate chip cookies were stiff, floury blobs with chocolate chips lodged in odd corners of the cross-section, as if added as an afterthought. The gingerbread cookies, in spite of somewhat juvenile decorating, were delightful. Barely-there notes of ginger and molasses were harnessed within the soft cookie, making for easy consumption by ginger advocates and skeptics alike.
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My breakfast of cookies, yogurt, and fruit would tie me over until mid-afternoon. Errands and appointments would not see a hiatus, even on days where most of the world grinds to a jolly standstill.
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An attempt at procuring the Grinch-themed Frozen Hot Chocolate McFlurry ended in vain. Not only had the location ran out of the Frozen Hot Chocolate topping, but the McFlurry machine was out of service.
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