Out & About #146 | Toronto Things: Bake Code, L'Opera, and I-Migoo

​My day commenced with an excursion to North York.

I arrived just a few minutes before 8 AM, and decided to wait outside Bake Code's patio area to observe the hype surrounding this recently-opened Taiwanese bakery.

The tall glass windows enabled a girl, clad in a white uniform with bronze/orange detailing, to be seen scurrying between the cashier and the kitchen area, while a male worker donning a kitchen uniform was observed taking a stroll inside absentmindedly.

​My watch read 8:01 AM, yet the doors still hadn't opened. Having a series of appointments lined up for the rest of my day, I couldn't afford to wait and marched up to the door. I tugged at the handles once, which was enough to alert the sloth-like staff member to inquire about the keys. During this time, I noticed that two boys in hoodies had formed a line behind me. "Are they customers as well?" I had wondered.

​We were permitted entry at 8:03 AM; I learned that the hooded beings were tardy members of staff, and not customers at all. The only girl working the floor gave a bright smile, but also informed me that the kitchen was about half an hour behind their regular schedule, thus there were no bread varieties available for purchase as of yet. She, along with a non-uniformed man that appeared to be part of management, did gesture to a refrigerated display cabinet instead, mentioning that pastries were available for the time being. However, I'm not one to settle for small slices of cheesecakes or cream puffs that were minimum day-old products with the potential of having gathered a layer of condensation on top.

I took to my photo-taking, earning strange glances from the same oblivious, slow-moving staff member who was now in the middle of bringing out small portions of freshly-baked (but oddly void of yeasty aroma) bread, basket by basket. Given the amount of media attention that the new bakery has been receiving over the past few weeks, it is my belief that customers snapping shots of the interior shouldn't come as a giant surprise; I must admit that my presence did not feel appreciated at that point.

There was little action to capture, as the shelves were still relatively barren after a solid ten minutes; I then proceeded to analyze their drink options, in hopes that the Chocolate Bean Bun that I had spotted on their website the night prior would soon surface on the shelves.

A question that had been pestering me since the moment I laid eyes on user-uploaded images of their ever-so-popular Iced Sea Salt Coffee was: "How is this different from Chatime's Tea Mousse or Gong Cha's Milk Foam?". Unfortunately, I left Bake Code that day never knowing the answer. Neither the girl at cashier nor the member of management was able to answer my question.
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"...I haven't tried Chatime's so I'm not sure." stammered the guy.

My eyes shifted towards the girl.

"Theirs is made with milk and ours is made with cream!" was her desperate attempt to defend.

I was astonished by the fact that neither staff member was able to provide a decent answer - neither response would have persuaded me to try the drink had Chatime not been a twenty minute-walk away. (I mean - skipping earning Vicinity points for overpriced bread?! I don't think so!)

​Fifteen minutes in, I realized that there wasn't much time left before I had to be on my way. I quickly picked up a Chocolate Croissant. Despite the desire for a piping hot latte to provide warmth to my insides, I decided to try their much-overrated Iced Sea Salt Coffee (the Green Tea version seemed too simialar to Chatime after all). Not even a minute had passed after I set down my tray and tongs that the absentminded worker swiped the tools away and placed them back on the shelf. (Well, then. I had wanted to snap a photo of my dirty tongs along with the wood-toned tray with turned-up edges, but guess that wasn't isn't the cards.)

​The amount of time remaining was far from ample, but I made the swift decision of having the croissant "for here" just before the manager-like staff member placed it inside a thin, clear plastic bag.  To my dismay, he provided me with a small, black disposable paper plate instead of the classy ceramic version I had been hoping to receive. Nonetheless, the black provided a nice alternative to the standard white Dixie foam plates from Costco.

As the girl was taking her time in making my drink, I headed over to a prominently shadowed corner of the bakery to dig into my Chocolate Croissant. Equipped with a set of black plastic utensils, I slowly began to cut through the flaky, layered shell, only to realize that this attempt would later end in vain. With each back-and-forth motion of the knife, the shell began to shed crumbs exponentially.
Soon, the tiny plate contained more crumb than croissant; it was clear that I was making a mess simply by trying to enjoy my purchase. All self-conscious woes aside, I stabbed the top and proceed to take a large bite, caveman-style. The crumbs showered down, some landing back on the plate, while a few stray pieces bouncing onto the table.
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Dear goodness.

​I watched two men enter the bakery, each ordering a basic coffee. Their drinks were delivered in a matter of minutes, and they were out the door the next. And then there was me, still patiently waiting for an ice-cold drink on an equally icy fall morning. I chewed at the crispy, chocolatey pastry thoughtfully, temporarily neglecting the whopping amounts of butter used to create it. (Hey, it was breakfast time and I was hungry.) Stabbing the croissant a second time, I raised it to my mouth and let the “de-crumbing” process repeat itself.
At this very moment, the girl called out the name of my order in a somewhat urgent tone. I rose to obtain it, struggling to brush off any remnants of the item I had been munching on and stealthily wipe away potential sections of my mouth that had been smeared with chocolate.

​I wanted to turn away and head back to my seat quietly to finish my photo-taking and head off, but alas, the girl stopped me. “Take a sip of the sea salt foam before you put the lid on!” She released a shy smile. “It tastes different once it’s mixed.”
Her words were acknowledged, and I grabbed a lid before setting the extremely full cup of Iced Sea Salt Coffee down beside the half-demolished croissant.

​The plastic cup was raised to my lips after I had sat down, and I was overwhelmed with a thick, goopy substance bearing the consistency of soft peaks (for those unfamiliar with the term, it refers to a stage at which beaten egg whites have taken a slight shape). It was excessively rich, bore little to no hint of sea salt flavour, and was much too heavy for my morning drink.
​I wished to cap it and swirl the components together in hopes of lightening the taste, but the girl had been too generous – the lid would not fit over without the milky, synthetic Cool Whip-like layer oozing out from the sides. It was getting to be a very messy start to the day.

One look at my watch told me that I had to be on my way, else I would be suffering consequences. I requested a bag for the remainder of the croissant and hastily rubbed off the goopy layer underneath my drink lid before dashing off. Although I was the sole customer in the shop, not a single “Thank you!” was heard as the door closed.
I sipped the iced coffee while marching on, and was instantly struck with the most unpleasant sensation.

THE COFFEE WAS SOUR.

​The components were mixed and another sip was taken – it was STILL SOUR. How was this drink even popular?! Revulsion at its finest, I couldn’t bring myself to try it again until I finally arrived at my destination. Reanalyzing the cup’s contents, I did appreciate that it contained significantly less ice than other cold drinks I’ve tried, but this, by no means, equaled acceptance for a poorly-executed product.

Bake Code’s Iced Sea Salt Coffee is easily the most disgusting drink I’ve tasted in my lifetime.

The Chocolate Croissant was decent in terms of taste and texture, but was a challenge in itself to consume without creating a mess. Not an ideal snack for those commonly on-the-go, nor particularly budget-friendly at $2.90 each, it’s unlikely I’ll ever set foot in the bakery a second time (unless someone is treating me).
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That being said, my overall impression of Bake Code is unfavourable to say in the least. Failing to produce their standard selection of merchandise by opening time indicates a distinctive flaw in management, whereas workers with limited knowledge regarding a popular and exclusive drink are simply just unacceptable.  The concept of merging a European bakery with Taiwanese flavours and techniques is unique on its own, but the shop itself was a poorly-executed plan. Location-wise, they’ve filled the niche for early morning coffee-goers and bread-lovers, but I anticipate their prices to lead to a major setback sometime in the future. When there are better deals present in the neighbourhood, I fail to see students and office workers giving Bake Code precedence over tried-and-true options.

Fast-forwarding some five hours later to mid-afternoon, I set on a more leisurely journey to explore hidden gems along Yonge St.
A friend had posted quite an attractive photo from L’Opera previously, and so I crossed the street to check it out.

​Inside were two display refrigerators – one for cakes, the other for individual pastries, kitchen setup with a sink and two additional refrigerators, and a good fifteen tables. The café was considerably deep, though the cashier and display cases actually consumed half the available space. Given that it was a weekday afternoon, it was a still a fairly quiet space for casual talk and desserts. However, the area can be perceived to be a bit tight when a larger number of tables are occupied.

​The menu was provided on a large chalkboard located in the centre of the café in both English and Simplified Chinese, along with a series of laminated booklets. Notices of limited time offers were also placed at various tables, tacked onto the walls, and included in the numerous signs situated on the shop exterior.

​In the mood to test out their version of Mille Crepe Cakes, I proceeded to ask about whether their pastries were made in-house or externally sourced from a supplier (ie. La Rocca). The girl replied that all their desserts were their own; not all the flavours they had on hand were displayed, though, so she actually checked in the refrigerator when I requested a matcha variation of the crepe cake.

​Unfortunately, no signs of the grass-hued layered dessert could be found, so I opted for Earl Grey. Taking advantage of their cake and latte deal, a Green Tea Latte was ordered to go with it.

​As my items would be served when prepared, I was asked to take a seat at any of the tables. Maximizing my access to natural lighting is always a key factor in choosing seating arrangements, thus I made a beeline for the spot located directly behind the window.
The Earl Grey Mille Crepe Cake arrived first, served atop an unblemished white plate (no chipped dishes were spotted here!) and with a layer of film still wrapped around the perimeter. Heed was taken to unveil the layers without damaging the cake’s delicate balance. An orange mug that had been filled to the rim with a foamy green beverage was set down a few minutes later.

Both items were great as an afternoon snack: the cake was satisfying without being overly filling, while the heat of the latte melted away the richness of the pastry cream. Neither item was sweet, nor did they retain an enormous degree of flavour.

View the full album HERE !

​There wasn’t a great deal of Earl Grey flavour encased in the layers of crepe, though there was prominent graininess from the finely crushed pieces of tea leaves. While this extra addition did provide the cake with a unique texture, I believe the main reason behind the lack of flavour and aroma to result from disproportionate steeping time (either insufficient or redundant) and/or overly high/low steeping temperatures. Regardless, the distinguishing properties of the tea leaves had been lost through the process. I did enjoy the light layers of crepe, and that each was made to uniform thickness.

​The Green Tea Latte contained a tad more foam that I was expecting, indicating that the tea itself had been whisked in addition to the steamed milk. The yellow tint essentially gave it away, but the lack of bittersweet grassiness was also a symbol of using instant green tea powder from the Chinese supermarket instead of authentic Japanese matcha. Despite this, I thoroughly enjoyed the drink – it had been made meticulously enough that I would not have been aware of this difference had my judging criteria not been so stringent.

I was soon caught up in utilizing their (surprisingly) stable Wi-Fi, and only gazed up to admire the decorations once the combo had been devoured. There was a certain cohesiveness about the interior: black and silver made up most the palette, enhanced with a few unique light fixtures here and there. (The snowflake string lights were found to be a tad odd, though.)
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An appreciation for consistency was developed upon noticing the consistent usage of swirls. From the curling branches of the tree painted along the entranceway to the shop logo to the film which my Mille Crepe Cake had rested on, they were everywhere. These are the types of details that earn a weighty score in my books.

When the time finally to approach the cashier once more, the girl broke her silence and asked, “Are you a food blogger?”.

Slightly taken back, I responded, “Yes.”A smile creeped up on the edges of my mouth. “Was it really that obvious?”

​A subtle nod was directed in my way.


L’Opera provided a comfortable environment for me to catch up on my social media access, in addition to offering a variety of sweet and savoury snack options. Besides the minor food flaws, there was only one other area I found to require improvement: the bathroom.

 Located at the bottom of a flight of stairs, it was already considerably inaccessible. Adding to this, I learned that hooks were nonexistent, the lock was dysfunctional, and the toilet was raised onto a second level for no apparent reason. Unlike the upper floor (or should I say “ground level”), it was dimly lit and far from pristine. Time to step up your washroom game, L’Opera! (Gee, that sounded beyond weird.)


​​Departing from the premises and walking my way up to the Finch station, I stopped by M Brand to pick up a skincare product, fangirling about K-Pop (and specifically Jackson of GOT7) with the sales rep during most of my short-lived stay.

It was brought to my attention via Zomato that a new bubble tea shop had opened in the area. Normally, I would pass on experimenting with such openings as they are generally associated with poor food quality and inexperienced staff making desperate attempts to adjust. However, I-Migoo was different in that they hailed from Zhuhai, China instead of Taiwan (aka bubble tea republic).

​Their storefront was coloured yellow, flashy in comparison to the other shops along the same stretch; their mascot was a bespectacled cutie with a freckles and tiny snapback bearing a Batman-esque colour scheme. With their BOGO deal, I decided to check out what their menu with the remaining six minutes I had until my bus would arrive.

A section of the walls were painted the same shade of yellow, and had LED screens mounted to display their top drink selections and shop background.

​It didn’t take me long to see that their snack options were few and centred around the theme of fried chicken. The girl at the cashier spoke little to no English, but was able to tell me that both the Thai-style and Curry Wings were mild options for fried chicken. I informed her that I had a bus to catch and wondered if it would be possible for food items to be delivered within six minutes. She responded to this by saying that fried chicken usually doesn’t take too long, though did not specify a time frame.

​I hastily ordered the spice-less chicken options, along with their two most popular milk teas for their BOGO deal, before dashing into their bathroom. It was spacious and outstandingly clean for a greasy diner, but hooks were again nowhere to be spotted. (Why do you do this when North York is an obvious student hangout area?!)

​None of my four items were ready when I exited the single-person stall, so I took to reminding the girls once again that I was on a tight schedule. Neither quickened their pace but began to show signs of panic as I jumped at a bus whizzing by. Sauce container lids were being dropped, drink bags were carelessly pulled from their stash, and container seals were haphazardly pressed on. Things were not looking good for this new opening, nor for my own agenda.

Thankfully, the items were handed over within an acceptable time frame, though I’m convinced that I bore a scary resemblance to a chicken with its head cut off as I sprinted for the bus stop immediately after.

​I took a good long look at the packaging once I plopped onto the bus: it was the same mascot, but this time with thicker brows and swirled blush spots instead of freckles. Also gone were the glasses and two-toned snapback.

​The drinks were revealed to be held upright in a partitioned plastic bag – this was a first for me, as I had never seen such an invention prior. It had done a competent job of maintaining the position of the drinks, but I doubt it would have lasted a full-on dash spanning over fifteen metres.

Though saddening, the best part about my visit to I-Migoo was this partitioned bag, as everything else went downhill from their point of unveiling.

The fried chicken pieces were unbelievably tiny, and tasted nothing of Thai. They deserved no other praise than for their exceptional crispiness, as grease was abundant and flavour insubstantial.
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Two overpriced pieces of Curry Chicken Wings were found to not even be curry-flavoured at all – the label read “Cajun-style”, and was of an undeniably hot nature. It turns out that the girl had completely misheard my order and punched in an alternative selection.

But the most ultimate form of dining depression was found within their supposedly most popular milk tea choices.

Strawberry Coconut Flavour Milk Tea was nothing more than a sickeningly sweet, powdery liquid taking on an artificial strawberry flavour mixed with strawberry jelly. Their priciest option, the Golden Mango Coconut Flavour Milk Tea, was no better - the same unauthentic milky flavour was present, but in a mango-flavoured variation paired with mango jelly.

Thanks, but no thanks, I-Migoo. I'll be sticking to Green Grotto for their properly seasoned Salt & Pepper Chicken bites instead.

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