The variety of accessories was impressive as well, spanning Sanrio plushies, gargantuan flower headbands, and even flags and a trophy in honour of FIFA.
Ventilation within the combined space of Isabella's Mochi Donuts and photoism was essentially nonexistent. A rotating tower fan covered in greasy fingerprints was angled towards the entrance, yet provided not an ounce of relief to the patrons within the store.
After two unsuccessful attempts at paying on the card machine, I was lent a twenty-dollar bill to complete the payment in cash.
An up-to-date menu was available on the business' Google Maps page, enabling me to tap through the images on my phone rather than leafing through the grimy laminated booklet.
Service was swift and amicable. The waitresses had worked tirelessly to tend to all customers in a timely manner during the evening rush.
When I approached the cashier, the bespectacled elderly lady with voluminous, dyed hair informed me that the dessert parlour would be closing in thirty minutes. She was seemingly reluctant to take my order, despite my request of the cup size bingsoo, which was presented in a disposable plastic cup by default.
The cup assumed the perfect single portion, especially considering its rate of dissolution in the sweltering summer heat. Tucked into the sleeve were two plastic spoons: a standard spoon with a sturdy handle to enjoy the injeolmi mochi and a longer spoon to reach the underlying layers without removing the lid.
Strictly evaluating based on gustatory contentment, I was generally pleased with the product. Despite desiring more toppings (fillings?) in the underlying layers, the bits of injeolmi-dusted mochi, sliced almonds, and generous drizzle of sweetened condensed milk arranged on top were fabulous.
I excitedly dug into the specimen while the conversation transitioned to a topic far more interesting than work - coincidentally not unlike the last time I stepped into Snow Day!











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