As autumn nears, the period of effective daylight gradually decreases. My morning drives are accompanied by nothing but pure darkness, with the exception of streetlights and the headlights/brake lights of annoyingly impatient rush hour drivers.
However, early mornings hold more meaning than silencing three alarms that go off simultaneously and facing intense parking wars; it results in the ability to view (and capture) every single unique sunrise.
But the thing about sunrises is: while they are a feast for your eyes, they have little to no impact on a sleepy mind. And that is where cold, caffeinated drinks enter the picture.
But the thing about sunrises is: while they are a feast for your eyes, they have little to no impact on a sleepy mind. And that is where cold, caffeinated drinks enter the picture.
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Having had read about the horrendous truth behind Starbucks' green tea powder (the supposed sugar to tea ratio is approximately 1:1), I thought twice before diving for a Green Tea Latte.
I walked into a nearby Second Cup instead, and it was probably one of the nicest Second Cup locations I had ever step foot into: high ceilings, an abundance of small tables in addition to bar seats, and even a brightly-lit circular bar area for socializing. The girl at the cashier was also very cheerful, and offered to make an Iced Matcha Latte for me even though it technically did not appear on their menu.
I walked into a nearby Second Cup instead, and it was probably one of the nicest Second Cup locations I had ever step foot into: high ceilings, an abundance of small tables in addition to bar seats, and even a brightly-lit circular bar area for socializing. The girl at the cashier was also very cheerful, and offered to make an Iced Matcha Latte for me even though it technically did not appear on their menu.
There was no lineup, thus I received my drink in a little under three minutes. It contained approximately the same amount of ice (ie. a lot of ice), but the hue was evidently less saturated (in comparison to Starbucks). The flavour was also much more subtle than expected, but nonetheless a great refresher.
I decided to round the corner to Sweet Jesus at this point to observe the current length of the line. By golly! It was even worse than last time. I hovered at the end for about five minutes, but noticed that the line had ceased to move an inch during that time and came to the conclusion that the lineup should be avoided at all times after lunch hours.
Pearl King (also called 明珠樓), is an establishment that I've researched several times already while browsing Zomato and "Eats in the Entertainment District". Their concept is quite interesting: the restaurant is part dimsum-serving, part-sports bar. The interior is modern and minimal, relying heavily on wood and wood-like elements to create a sense of cohesiveness between shiny white tables and slight industrial touches. For diners that exhibit indifference to the cigarette-smoking population of the Downtown Core, patio tables are also offered so that the Chinese "tapas" can be enjoyed outside, weather permitted.
I decided to round the corner to Sweet Jesus at this point to observe the current length of the line. By golly! It was even worse than last time. I hovered at the end for about five minutes, but noticed that the line had ceased to move an inch during that time and came to the conclusion that the lineup should be avoided at all times after lunch hours.
Pearl King (also called 明珠樓), is an establishment that I've researched several times already while browsing Zomato and "Eats in the Entertainment District". Their concept is quite interesting: the restaurant is part dimsum-serving, part-sports bar. The interior is modern and minimal, relying heavily on wood and wood-like elements to create a sense of cohesiveness between shiny white tables and slight industrial touches. For diners that exhibit indifference to the cigarette-smoking population of the Downtown Core, patio tables are also offered so that the Chinese "tapas" can be enjoyed outside, weather permitted.
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In all honesty, I had just wanted a satisfying sweet treat to sink my teeth into, but the wait for many other restaurants were astoundingly protracted. The restaurant was about 65% empty when I strolled in, but I was still informed that takeout would require 15 minutes to prepare. (Even for ready-made items??)
A trio of Egg Tarts and Duck Yolk Buns were ordered for $4.00 and $6.00 respectively. Indeed, my wallet suffered severe trauma post-Pearl King.
Growing up with the best Chinese bakery around, it was pretty much a ritual to feast upon incredibly fragrant egg tarts and coconut buns each day after school let out. The bakery has since made modifications to their kitchen staff, and though quality has plummeted, their egg tarts are still the best I've tried to date.
Egg tarts are available in a variety of forms and styles. The Cantonese egg tart (the more common version) typically has a smooth, pale yellow surface after baking, where as Portuguese egg tarts (of Macau origin) are known for having seemingly unevenly browned patches. For the cholesterol-conscious crew, T&T also has a selection of tarts with egg white filling.
For the tart itself, bakeries will likely offer both a butter tart shell and a puff pastry shell. This is less common with restaurants, who generally only produce egg tarts in puff pastry shells.
Furthering the above discussion on egg tarts, I shall move on to critiquing the pricey trio from Peal King. To put it shortly, it didn't quite meet my standards. The puff pastry shell, while flaky, was soggy - it did not emanate the soft crunch that freshly-baked egg tarts give off. As seen below, it was also incredibly greasy - both to the touch and taste.
The filling - runny (and untraditionally so) - was eggy and much sweeter and than it was milky. (Is this a trend?! Millie tends to go a bit crazy with their cake frosting too...). The egg-sugar-milk ratios were unmistakably off.
At this point, I believe I should also point out that the filling was slowly separating from the shell, which is not a commendable characteristic of an egg tart whatsoever. I'll take my four dollars elsewhere, thank you very much.
Egg tarts are available in a variety of forms and styles. The Cantonese egg tart (the more common version) typically has a smooth, pale yellow surface after baking, where as Portuguese egg tarts (of Macau origin) are known for having seemingly unevenly browned patches. For the cholesterol-conscious crew, T&T also has a selection of tarts with egg white filling.
For the tart itself, bakeries will likely offer both a butter tart shell and a puff pastry shell. This is less common with restaurants, who generally only produce egg tarts in puff pastry shells.
Furthering the above discussion on egg tarts, I shall move on to critiquing the pricey trio from Peal King. To put it shortly, it didn't quite meet my standards. The puff pastry shell, while flaky, was soggy - it did not emanate the soft crunch that freshly-baked egg tarts give off. As seen below, it was also incredibly greasy - both to the touch and taste.
The filling - runny (and untraditionally so) - was eggy and much sweeter and than it was milky. (Is this a trend?! Millie tends to go a bit crazy with their cake frosting too...). The egg-sugar-milk ratios were unmistakably off.
At this point, I believe I should also point out that the filling was slowly separating from the shell, which is not a commendable characteristic of an egg tart whatsoever. I'll take my four dollars elsewhere, thank you very much.
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I suppose it went over my head when the girl that took my order uttered "egg yolk buns"; I mean, I was pretty set on ordering standard Chinese bakery items (such as custard buns) and thought she was modestly referring to an egg yolk custard filling. It wasn't, really, and I was in for a surprise.
Stabbing one of the freshly-steamed buns, I created an escape path for a fluid orange substance. This was, I presume, the Duck Yolk filling. Ever so delicate, the fluffy white barrier began to give way to the oozing sweet-and-salty mixture with each and every small shift in movement. A Thai tea-coloured molten extravagance was in complete view once the bun was split in half.
The Egg Yolk Buns were truly unique and extremely decadent. Averaging to $2.00 each (and an unthinkably high fat content), these would undoubtedly be categorized as a guilty pleasure.
Stabbing one of the freshly-steamed buns, I created an escape path for a fluid orange substance. This was, I presume, the Duck Yolk filling. Ever so delicate, the fluffy white barrier began to give way to the oozing sweet-and-salty mixture with each and every small shift in movement. A Thai tea-coloured molten extravagance was in complete view once the bun was split in half.
The Egg Yolk Buns were truly unique and extremely decadent. Averaging to $2.00 each (and an unthinkably high fat content), these would undoubtedly be categorized as a guilty pleasure.
My takeout actually arrived in less than fifteen minutes, and was handed to me by a man who I assume to be a member of management. He relayed my order to me in Chinese, handing me a brown paper bag. When I simply returned a blank stare, he switched to English, which wasn't exactly eloquent in nature. I noticed that the plastic forks had simply been thrown into the bag along with my order, consequently putting in a request for napkins. He handed them to me, completely unaware of the coffee stain veering on the edges. ("Do you re-use your napkins?!" I thought.)
It was also interesting to learn that they are a member of Vicinity, and that dollars spent towards both dine-in and takeout meals apply for points collection. Initially, my card was denied by a casually-dressed, middle-aged Chinese lady. She informed me that "This (was) the Chatime Vicinity. We don't accept this.", to which I responded with a "It's the same card; it just looks different since I purchased it there." She gave me a dubious look, but I knew it worked when she handed the card back to the waitress.
It was also interesting to learn that they are a member of Vicinity, and that dollars spent towards both dine-in and takeout meals apply for points collection. Initially, my card was denied by a casually-dressed, middle-aged Chinese lady. She informed me that "This (was) the Chatime Vicinity. We don't accept this.", to which I responded with a "It's the same card; it just looks different since I purchased it there." She gave me a dubious look, but I knew it worked when she handed the card back to the waitress.
Pearl King, as the evidence indicates, is a Chinese restaurant/bar hybrid catered to non-Chinese diners by employing a local marketing strategy. (I mean, which authentic restaurant tosses in fortune cookies with Chinese takeout?) The authorities and kitchen staff are of Chinese origin, though none of the members of front-line staff appear vaguely so.
I can positively say that I have tasted better Chinese food elsewhere, and for a much lower price. Although, given Pearl King's location and niche market, it makes sense that their menu is designed to suit the palette of tourists and wealthy businesspeople. Frankly, I fit into neither of those groups, which means that this may be the last time I visit while sponsor-less.
I can positively say that I have tasted better Chinese food elsewhere, and for a much lower price. Although, given Pearl King's location and niche market, it makes sense that their menu is designed to suit the palette of tourists and wealthy businesspeople. Frankly, I fit into neither of those groups, which means that this may be the last time I visit while sponsor-less.
Walking around a little while later, I discovered that Kekou Gelato had opened another location! (Or perhaps they just moved shops?) I'm uncertain of whether they were open or not, but it's nice to see that they now have a larger shop (with seats!) and are more accessibly via public transit. (Note to self: Check it out stat while the Sweet Jesus frenzy is still on.)
Queen St. W wasn't offering anything of worth to me, so I just picked up a Watermelon Basil Oolong Tea from Nohohon prior to heading back. I hadn't dropped by since their Grand Opening, but changes were few besides the altered selection of art pieces in their display cabinet. The tea was, thankfully, nowhere near the same degree of sweetness of other bubble tea places, but rang in at a rather budget-estranged price of $4.25 for a small size. Oddly enough, I noticed that it gradually lost flavour as it was sipped. Perhaps it was my imagination, but the tea tasted less of oolong and more of watermelon towards the end.
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