Feeling weak before the start of a new work week, I requested work-from-home privileges to recuperate. A certain prehistoric creature had assisted in stocking my hermitting hideout with Congee Queen, ginger, blanched choy sum, dried apricots, and countless other essential items, ensuring that sustenance would be present even in the face of an incessant pounding headache and staggering shifts in vision.
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My weekend could be condensed to congee containers, kale chips - which, when crumbled, serve as stellar homemade furikake - and the occasional bite of sugar.
A portion of my Represent order arrived at my doorstep. In its footsteps followed Oyakodon (otherwise known as Chicken Donburi) and Chicken Katsu Don from Tomo Sushi, in addition to CoCo as the default pick-me-up. The evening wrapped up with the dismantling of my Christmas tree (at long last!!!) and my reluctant ingestion of a halved Extra Strength Tylenol.
A portion of my Represent order arrived at my doorstep. In its footsteps followed Oyakodon (otherwise known as Chicken Donburi) and Chicken Katsu Don from Tomo Sushi, in addition to CoCo as the default pick-me-up. The evening wrapped up with the dismantling of my Christmas tree (at long last!!!) and my reluctant ingestion of a halved Extra Strength Tylenol.
I made a timid return to the real world the next morning, 排包 in hand. Sweet, eggy white bread rolls are an item I hadn't sunk my teeth into for quite an extended period of time. The immediate reaction was, dare I say, euphoric.
A mid-day Pilot run resulted in a Macchiato and Superfood Latte. The Union Station favourite offered up options of Turmeric and Beetroot, both bereft of caffeine in their original formula. My mind sought out a sense of perceptiveness, thus injecting a shot of espresso into the saffron-tinged creation.
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I had high hopes for this concoction, for the coppery Beet edition from the Ossington standalone had attested to magnificence. Unfortunately, the mixture was more gritty than ideal and utterly lacking in ginger content. It suffices to say that Hestia still reigns in this department.
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Lunchtime walks are necessary for sanity, and often lead to the acquisition of complimentary samples and amusing spectacles.
From free falafel and hummus at Union Station - courtesy of Paramount - to ginormous Adventure Time plushies at Miniso, from Dollarama randoms to Valentine's Day-themed merchandise lining the shelves of every retail boutique, there's seemingly always something of amusement.
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After several attempts at securing a Winterlicious reservation for fifteen to no (reasonable) avail, the final solution resided with a sociable outing to St. Lawrence's Bier Markt.
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The restaurant was a mere eight-minute walk from Union Station, situated along the The Esplanade's saturated stretch of brewhouses and gastropubs. Quite frankly, I would have strolled right past the establishment had a fellow member of the party not acted as the primary basis of navigation.
With a seating area equivalent to that of five Tim Hortons, it was a tad odd to find the quarters vacant during the weekday lunch peak. Even more surprising was the amicability of the host, who undertook additional roles as the second member of waitstaff and lone bartender. Tyler was his name, and a pleasant creature he was!
Our party had decreased from fifteen to ten due to extenuating circumstances, which morphed our rigid U-shaped formation to an asymmetrical rectangle. It would have been nice to obtain assistance for this tempered Transformers operation, however flagging someone from an empty floor was not that simple.
Majority of the table opted for The Big Schnitz, offered in the form of either chicken or pork. It was a plentiful portion that many noted to be of greater value than the typical Winterlicious trios.
My own picks of French Onion & Ale Soup (taken from the Goose Island Brewhouse menu) and Beet & Quinoa Salad were a far cry from the standard pub fare at other ends of the quadrilateral. It garnered a few quick glances at first, but wasn't fundamentally too out of character.
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Plated atop a square wooden serving board, the starter was warm without being scalding. Stringy, singed cheese, soft strips of sweet, yellow onion, and spongy croutons made for great depth overall. The broth was saved from being overly salty to taste, though, the impact of synthetic flavour enhancers could clearly be felt upon conclusion of the meal.
In spite of retaining the teensiest smidgen of fishy-ness, the underside had been grilled to a gentle crisp. Served at the colder end of the spectrum though, it did not exhibit succulence nor its smoky profile until microwaving the next day. In-situ conditions confessed to a spongy surface that was a tad difficult to pry apart.
That said, the pink-coral slab thankfully did not bear a heavy dose of seasonings. Its flesh was flaky, but not overdone. Overall, a poor addition for supplementing omega-3 fatty acids it was not, however I do believe in being able to recreate a similar - dare I say, identical - specimen at a sixth of its price, sans-gratuity.
That said, the pink-coral slab thankfully did not bear a heavy dose of seasonings. Its flesh was flaky, but not overdone. Overall, a poor addition for supplementing omega-3 fatty acids it was not, however I do believe in being able to recreate a similar - dare I say, identical - specimen at a sixth of its price, sans-gratuity.
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The sweetness of red and golden beets were a small but impactful addition. As per normal consumption methods, the provided salad dressings were foregoed. At the point of its arrival, I had quickly submerged my fork in the vinaigrette as a taste test. Removing the tine to reveal droplets of grease further confirmed its status as my least favourite condiment - ever. The fundamental layer of grains was crunchy supplemented with bursts of fluffiness, and contained a nice blend of red, black, and white quinoa - the "rainbow", if you will. Thinly-sliced radish, along with heaps of baby spinach and arugula, provided the desired dose of leafy greens.
A no-alcohol policy in effect meant that the table would naturally take to glasses of diet soda or the classic choice of ice water. Hot water - with a side of lemon - could also be requested; a particularly intrepid member of the table took to alcohol-free beer instead.
Clausthaler Dry-Hopped, supposedly "the world's first" of its kind, was an admittedly queer quaff. It wasn't nearly as hoppy as I feared and paired decently alongside food; that said, the first whiff was so skunk-like I was nearly unable to proceed.
Clausthaler Dry-Hopped, supposedly "the world's first" of its kind, was an admittedly queer quaff. It wasn't nearly as hoppy as I feared and paired decently alongside food; that said, the first whiff was so skunk-like I was nearly unable to proceed.
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Washrooms were visited twice: situated near the back of the restaurant were squelchy floors and cold, eerie stalls. The highlight of this entire experience was probably the complimentary guest Wi-Fi network, for there can be nothing more comforting than a digital connection with the remainder of the world when tragically sandwiched between a BO-emitting presence and the most 눈치없는 entity to join the team.
Exceptions this time: a shared Vanilla Cone and an advanced KDC class.
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