December 10th marks the end of a truly backbreaking era.
While neither as prolonged nor physically draining as my days in a (lower-than-) minimum wage position devoid of health and safety practices, I shan't hesitate to declare this short-lived occupation as the worst job I've encountered to date. Amidst a society flooded with technological advances and the drive to constantly improve oneself, there lies a community of tight-knit, good-for-nothing tattlers that thrive off taxpaper funding. And where one cannot assimilate, he or she shall be exiled for their nonconformities.
While neither as prolonged nor physically draining as my days in a (lower-than-) minimum wage position devoid of health and safety practices, I shan't hesitate to declare this short-lived occupation as the worst job I've encountered to date. Amidst a society flooded with technological advances and the drive to constantly improve oneself, there lies a community of tight-knit, good-for-nothing tattlers that thrive off taxpaper funding. And where one cannot assimilate, he or she shall be exiled for their nonconformities.
My final mid-day meal in the vicinity comprised of sushi. Yet, it wasn't just any old regular grab-and-go joint. Spring Sushi was located on the top floor of 10 Dundas East, next to the VIP Cineplex entrance and overlooking the bustle of Toronto's busiest pedestrian crossing.
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The interior was quite grand, featuring a street art-esque mural along the ceiling of the dining area. Staff were aplenty, but many failed to immediately acknowledge our presence in spite of the nonexistent lineup at the reception desk.
Order placement had shifted from interaction with physical bodies to being completely electronic. An iPad was placed at the end of our table, where diners could select All-You-Can-Eat or à la carte items. For the most part, Spring operated in a manner similar to Hana, just simply without the small-scale monorail.
Order placement had shifted from interaction with physical bodies to being completely electronic. An iPad was placed at the end of our table, where diners could select All-You-Can-Eat or à la carte items. For the most part, Spring operated in a manner similar to Hana, just simply without the small-scale monorail.
< Pictured above and below: Diamond Sushi, Crystal Sashimi, Chashu Miso Ramen >
Sashimi cuts were average at best, as was the presentation of our orders. Stray sesame seeds and random squirts of mayonnaise were not appreciated. The provided starter salad and miso soup were decent, though the rice proved tremendously dry.
Ginger slices and wasabi were also of mediocre quality: the former hadn't undergone sufficient pickling, while the latter was mushy and lacked pungency.
Sashimi cuts were average at best, as was the presentation of our orders. Stray sesame seeds and random squirts of mayonnaise were not appreciated. The provided starter salad and miso soup were decent, though the rice proved tremendously dry.
Ginger slices and wasabi were also of mediocre quality: the former hadn't undergone sufficient pickling, while the latter was mushy and lacked pungency.
The highlight of the meal was the Chashu Miso Ramen, strangely enough. In spite of the spurious noodles (wavy ones reminiscent of the instant variety), its overall composition was far tastier than Chef Papa's custom creation.
Washrooms were not visited on this occasion, and therefore no comments can be made in that regard.
Washrooms were not visited on this occasion, and therefore no comments can be made in that regard.
Bidding farewell to an environment of utmost toxicity meant indulging on two of my all-time favourite activities: karaoke and grabbing bubble tea - specifically CoCo.
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Customer service has seen a steep plummet since our last visit: no longer was the friendly elder working the counter, but a bitter middle-aged man instead. Prices have seemingly also undergone inflation, though this has yet to be confirmed since we had upgraded to a large room from our regular small one.
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Chicken in the Kitchen was my suggestion for dinner. Its close proximity played a huge factor in this decision. In addition, I was also craving cheesy fried chicken and eomuktang.
Shared amongst the group were Oden Soup, Kimchi Fried Rice, a Full portion of the Golden Fried Chicken, as well as the restaurant's signature Cheese Volcano Chicken. Once menus had been collected two sets of pickled pink radish, waffle fries, and coleslaw made their way over. It ought to be noted that these weren't, by any means, spectacular. Personal findings concluded the radish to be rather bland and the coleslaw to constitute of a disapproving cabbage-to-dressing ratio.
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I'll be honest and admit that I wasn't speedy enough to acquire more than one bowl of Oden Soup and a few pieces of fried chicken (from both plates) for munching. Ravenous dinner parties meant sustenance was demolished faster than response reflexes could initiate. Of the items that were sampled though, the Cheese Volcano Chicken was the most innovative, while the Golden Fried Chicken most competent of satisfying the soul.
Surrounding a toasted bread bowl of melted Gouda and Parmesan (that tasted like mozzarella and cheddar) were pieces of Original Fried Chicken partially submerged in a creamy, spicy moat of rosé sauce. The sauce was less to my liking than the cheesy aspect of the dish, for it bore no discernible difference from the canned Classico jar residing in my refrigerator at home. The contents of the crispy bread bowl remained tenacious for approximately ten minutes, then gradually grew viscous and rigid. Consequently, disposble chopsticks were summoned to ease the consumption process.
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Crunchy and delectable, the Golden Fried Chicken was positively delicious and, to my utter relief, completely mild. orangecane claimed the cheese powder to mimic that of KD, but its synthetic sodium content wasn't all that obvious to my tastebuds.
Oden Soup was amusing in that it employed whole mushrooms and sliced onions (on top of the standard chopped scallions). Flat fish cake triangles had been provided in a generous amount too.
The broth was as scalding as it was spicy, though I could be mistaken as my throat had seemed to suffer burning sensations with most anti-flammatory liquids as of late.
The Kimchi Fried Rice was the sole item I voluntarily opted of of trying. Even a small swipe of the kimchi-tossed grains lit my mouth ablaze. It was apparent that I would be unable to tolerate such a monster.
The broth was as scalding as it was spicy, though I could be mistaken as my throat had seemed to suffer burning sensations with most anti-flammatory liquids as of late.
The Kimchi Fried Rice was the sole item I voluntarily opted of of trying. Even a small swipe of the kimchi-tossed grains lit my mouth ablaze. It was apparent that I would be unable to tolerate such a monster.
My memory of the restaurant's interior is hazy, as it is with most dimly-lit eateries. The wooden booths were spacious and comfortable albeit uncushioned. Service was cold and indifferent for the most part; the waiter revealed a slight aggressiveness when I insisted on handling the card machine myself. But, honestly, why is it so wrong that I don't want your grimy fingers over my precious personal belongings?
I was less fond of the Mango Bingsoo on this visit - frozen mango chunks are not my cup of tea - but Injeolmi remained a crowd favourite.
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