Much as The Tablo Podcast says, maturity is often depicted with a sense of minimalism, eradicating elements extraneous to one's overall functionality. The coming of age and its associated responsibilities as a contributing member of society nixes the need for abundant acquaintances and a house full of knickknacks.
With each passing day, I strive to reduce the count of material goods embedded in my immediate surroundings, shifting preference of nominal presents from barely familiar faces to financial stability and adequate food supply. This is not to say that the fewer the friends, the better. Rather, it is a nod to new experiences free from unnecessary frills.
With each passing day, I strive to reduce the count of material goods embedded in my immediate surroundings, shifting preference of nominal presents from barely familiar faces to financial stability and adequate food supply. This is not to say that the fewer the friends, the better. Rather, it is a nod to new experiences free from unnecessary frills.
The occasional dine-out pays homage to this quarantine-founded concept. Drearily has the past week passed me, with work tasks consuming the bulk of my waking hours (and even some of my subconscious ones in the form of apprehensive dreams). Well overdue was a weekday lunch, and with a crippling craving for ramen, I suggested a visit to Kinton.
Of course, the go-to option has never veered from Kenzo - er, now Kamen. It is with remarkable regret that the re-branded restaurant offers no patio for in-store dining. Thus, the less preferable alternative was sought out.
Of course, the go-to option has never veered from Kenzo - er, now Kamen. It is with remarkable regret that the re-branded restaurant offers no patio for in-store dining. Thus, the less preferable alternative was sought out.
Tables were relatively empty at the late lunchhour of 2 PM. The franchise's storefront faced Confederation Parkway, where patrons were successfully shaded from the blaze of the sun though subject to the comparatively less desirable state of wind and rampant dust particles from traversing construction trucks. Despite landing ourselves at a loathsome location of a patio, we proceeded with the meal with consideration to stomach emptiness, glancing back to our vehicle every so often in fear of parking enforcement crews. (What a travesty metred parking spots are.)
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Upon entry, one member of each party was required to input information on a Health Declaration Form. The list requested details including guest name, phone number, entry time, and a signature; a pen - wrapped in neither plastic nor visibly sanitized resided adjacent. In spite of the declarative application, no temperatures were taken. Servers wore masks, though guests were not required to do the same, even when accessing washroom facilities. For the most part, we complied with the masking, even in the absence of others in our 2-metre radius, for the gusts of granular material were as unpleasant as could be.
We enlisted a member of the waitstaff for a wipedown of our sand-speckled table, who took to a damp cloth that brushed ours before immediately navigating to a different one. The utilization of a single cleansing cloth was common practice amongst waitstaff prior to COVID-19, however the scene induced a questionable eyebrow raise in today's times.
Guests were provided the options of individually packaged disposable utensils and plastic cups or the franchise's array of standard eating equipment, inclusive of a funky smelling ladle and Stainless steel water cups.
We enlisted a member of the waitstaff for a wipedown of our sand-speckled table, who took to a damp cloth that brushed ours before immediately navigating to a different one. The utilization of a single cleansing cloth was common practice amongst waitstaff prior to COVID-19, however the scene induced a questionable eyebrow raise in today's times.
Guests were provided the options of individually packaged disposable utensils and plastic cups or the franchise's array of standard eating equipment, inclusive of a funky smelling ladle and Stainless steel water cups.
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We took to orders of Takoyaki, Pork Original ramen with thin noodles, and seasonal Chilled Tsukemen, discarding mindfulness of their atrocious prices and overly rich broth in the moment.
Four teensy pieces of very, very average Takoyaki set us back a whopping $5.50. Surrendering bonito flakes to the wind, the morsels were left with tonkatsu sauce and mayo as toppings. For the record, this was an instance where fat (deep frying) did not equate to flavour.
Four teensy pieces of very, very average Takoyaki set us back a whopping $5.50. Surrendering bonito flakes to the wind, the morsels were left with tonkatsu sauce and mayo as toppings. For the record, this was an instance where fat (deep frying) did not equate to flavour.
Those under the impression that Chilled Tsukemen would be on the same page as refreshing Korean naengmyeon couldn't be further from the truth. Thick starchy noodles coated in an obscene amount of oil was delivered to the table, sans dipping sauce. I appreciated the generous portion of sesame seeds, as well as the grated daikon. For a Japanese establishment though, I expected wasabi that was less powdery and scallions more finely chopped. The dish was far too slick for a summer afternoon - or any meal at any time of day, really - leading me to halt consumption within a few mouthfuls, despite being famished. The soy broth, once it eventually arrived, was also heavier than expected. Surprisingly, the two thin slices of pork shoulder were the least greasy of the entire composition.
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The Pork Original proved the safest selection. At a passable price point, the bowl contained a nori, pork shoulder, and a tasty albeit satiating broth that was heavily laced with sodium. A ramen egg was included, though its profile odd and not entirely flavourful.
It seems that I never did learn my lesson: Convenience really oughtn't be prioritized over contentment.
Wrapping up the journey were quick stops to the nearby Pappa Roti and Starbucks, whose gag-worthy Golden Ginger Drink shall never be mentioned henceforth.
It seems that I never did learn my lesson: Convenience really oughtn't be prioritized over contentment.
Wrapping up the journey were quick stops to the nearby Pappa Roti and Starbucks, whose gag-worthy Golden Ginger Drink shall never be mentioned henceforth.
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Friday morning welcomed one of the greatest surprises of a lifetime.
Was I reading correctly?! Amongst the first to deliver a congratulatory message was DJ Rice Man himself!
Whether it be by pure chance (luck?) that I, along with a handful of others, received the message on our exact date of birth, I am grateful for the gesture, which will now go down noted in history.
Whether it be by pure chance (luck?) that I, along with a handful of others, received the message on our exact date of birth, I am grateful for the gesture, which will now go down noted in history.
The remainder of the day was spent sneaking out amidst email attacks, claiming soon-to-expire freebies throughout the downtown (and midtown) core.
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First was a regular-sized Grass Jelly Roasted Oolong Milk Tea from royaltea. As a matter of fact, I don't believe I had ever tasted the chain's creations prior to the day. Having said that, the beverage I received was unexpectedly delightful. The Chinatown outpost had managed to craft a fragrant formula achieving appropriate levels of milkiness, sweetness, and jelly quantity.
Second on the list was Kung Fu Tea on Bloor. Saturated with bubble tea shops and independent coffee shops is this stretch, yet few warrant repetitive soujourns. The Mississauga location on Enfield consistently fell short of expectations, however the Koreatown one has proved itself noteworthy with unbeatable amicability and stellar concoctions. So, in spite of the reward not being entirely complimentary, 50% off a Passion Fruit Black Tea with Agar Bubble wasn't an unreasonable offer.
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Before departing the neighbourhood, I couldn't resist taking some Taiyaki to go. Passing by Ninetails on the way also prompted a visit, which, may I conclude to fall outside my definitive list of Koreatown hotspots. Since my initial visit, the four-dollar Matcha Dorayaki has since plummeted in quality: neither fluffy nor grassy, and surely no longer enjoyable in the form of a flat, sugary pancake. The Matcha Chocolate cookie, on the hand, was quite delicious with its faint hints of floral and delicate crumb; it was a tad drier than Put A Cone On It's had been with the inclusion of Skor-sized bits of milk chocolate.
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Next up was The Night Baker, where my staunch support had earned me a complimentary cookie of choice.
The Champ was my pick, and ever amazing was it! From the delicate crisp of puffed rice to ooey, gooey pockets of chocolate inside, the creation was every bit as extraordinary when consumed straight from the paper bag or the next day (shamelessly after breakfast).
The Champ was my pick, and ever amazing was it! From the delicate crisp of puffed rice to ooey, gooey pockets of chocolate inside, the creation was every bit as extraordinary when consumed straight from the paper bag or the next day (shamelessly after breakfast).
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Gearing up for the drive back to west GTA, I began to tremble under the influence of caffeine and sugar. At long last, I arrived at my final destination of Starbucks, where a delectable Nitro Cold Brew with Sweet Cream completed the freebie roundup.
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An UberEats delivery notification for Ian Cakery came abruptly from a lover of stars and pigs, so abruptly that I nearly didn't make it back in time to unshackle the package from heinous humidity.
Within a brown paper bag were two rectangular boxes, one paper and one plastic. The former housed a Cheese Tart and Matcha Choux Creme - officially termed "choux à la crème", or more widely known as a cookie cream puff. Encased in the feeble (read: already showing signs of crack propagation) Ferrero Rocher-esque container was a Soybean Mochi Cake. In addition to the three pastries was an order of Purple Milk, a duo-toned beverage that bore no description whatsoever, yet was assumed to be taro paste mixed with milk. (Spoiler: I was not wrong.)
Within a brown paper bag were two rectangular boxes, one paper and one plastic. The former housed a Cheese Tart and Matcha Choux Creme - officially termed "choux à la crème", or more widely known as a cookie cream puff. Encased in the feeble (read: already showing signs of crack propagation) Ferrero Rocher-esque container was a Soybean Mochi Cake. In addition to the three pastries was an order of Purple Milk, a duo-toned beverage that bore no description whatsoever, yet was assumed to be taro paste mixed with milk. (Spoiler: I was not wrong.)
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Given the afternoon's incredulous quantities of sugar and caffeine engagement, I set the package aside for next-day consumption. It remains uncertain whether this idling period resulted in the gradual dampening of the Choux Creme, for instead of a crisp, cookie-adorned shell, the first bite was met with sogginess. The internal compartment consisted of a tinted cream filling, laced lightly with the powdered Japanese green tea and more whipped cream-like than custardy. Although my opinion of the item may be skewed from belated ingestion, it remains a fact that Beard Papa's remains superior with its unfaltering, crunchy shell and luscious custard cream filling. To the best of my recollection, petit nuage isn't far behind either, though the renowned Japanese name reigns strong above all.
The Cheese Tart, sporting a prominent crack along the centre, was approximately the same size as Uncle Tetsu BAKE. The butter tart foundation was solid: secure without being rigid. Unlike the many varieties of my past, its surface was of a relatively pale yellow, its contents smooth (unlike Love Me Sweet), and the presence of richness minimal. The specimen attempted in vain at leaving a lasting impression; there was but a single factor announcing its uniqueness to the world. On the bright side, the morsel did not leave one feeling satiated even after dinner.
The Cheese Tart, sporting a prominent crack along the centre, was approximately the same size as Uncle Tetsu BAKE. The butter tart foundation was solid: secure without being rigid. Unlike the many varieties of my past, its surface was of a relatively pale yellow, its contents smooth (unlike Love Me Sweet), and the presence of richness minimal. The specimen attempted in vain at leaving a lasting impression; there was but a single factor announcing its uniqueness to the world. On the bright side, the morsel did not leave one feeling satiated even after dinner.
Purple Milk was a wondrous sight to behold, especially to those possessing a natural inclination to violet. However, with a single glance, its appraisal had been foreordained. My response to the too-sweet, too-milky beverage was either incorporation of a doppio shot or dispersion. A few chewy bits resided at the bottom of the cup, and while the "QQ" consistency was interesting, the overall combination was deemed stifling. For lovers of straight black coffee, Purple Milk was plain excessive.
Soybean aka kinako aka injeolmi has been an upward trending ingredient for some time now. Making frequent appearances in anything from lattes to bingsoo, its most recent adaptation takes the form of a layered dessert. Constituents of the Soybean Mochi Cake included a thick (nearly obnoxious) layer of sponge cake, whipped cream, sticky mochi, and plastic-y piped bulbs dusted with the nutty, beige powder. Enjoyed in a fashion similar to tiramisu, the layers were quite plush, albeit on the drier side with simple syrup-less sponge as its base. Tastefully executed, it was neither greasy nor gag-inducing. That said, I would gladly prioritize a moist, Kahlua-/rum-infused tiramisu over the composition in a heartbeat.
Soybean aka kinako aka injeolmi has been an upward trending ingredient for some time now. Making frequent appearances in anything from lattes to bingsoo, its most recent adaptation takes the form of a layered dessert. Constituents of the Soybean Mochi Cake included a thick (nearly obnoxious) layer of sponge cake, whipped cream, sticky mochi, and plastic-y piped bulbs dusted with the nutty, beige powder. Enjoyed in a fashion similar to tiramisu, the layers were quite plush, albeit on the drier side with simple syrup-less sponge as its base. Tastefully executed, it was neither greasy nor gag-inducing. That said, I would gladly prioritize a moist, Kahlua-/rum-infused tiramisu over the composition in a heartbeat.
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2. Chocolate Cherry Yogurt Ice Cream, inspired by the recent acquisition of the seasonal pitted fruit and unfed desires for Scoops.
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Homemade cherry compote (with the somewhat uncommon addition of glutinous rice flour), heavy cream, plain yogurt, and sweetened condensed milk were the sole ingredients of the dusty rose compound. Chocolate coverture and (more) heavy cream homogenized in a 1:1 ratio was drizzled in layers (à la Soy Sauce Caramel Ice Cream) just prior to freezing.
The original recipe was adapted from our manual's Chocolate Cherry Frozen Yogurt. Instead of whole milk and maraschino cherries (my least favourite of bulk barn's fruit snack aisle), I opted for 35% fat whipping cream. The higher fat content, regrettably, did not act as a catalyst for solidification; instead of the 2-hour chill time, the entire batch averaged a total of 10 hours for thorough thickening. It remains unknown whether the issue lay with freezer temperature (- 14 C vs. the suggested - 17 C) or the omission of pre-churning refrigeration.
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Other munchies of the week:
- Long overdue Chinese New Year Cake/年糕 (crafted exclusively upon request!)
- A gargantuan slice of Apple Pie from Swiss Chalet - do not undermine the rotisserie house's desserts!
- Rose Petal Jam on an ACE demi baguette
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