Out & About #704 | Greenwood Conservation Area

I reached out to orangecane well in advance of the Easter long weekend. What ensued was the mention of ​Issho Bakery's Easter Box and, more importantly, an adventure proposal for fresh air.

Exhaustion from the previous day of errands had delayed our schedule, traffic calming speed bump-style. It was around lunchtime when we finally met, so it seemed only reasonable to acquire sustenance prior to the journey east. At this time, I was gifted a delectable hexad of Brown Butter Chocolate Chunk Cookies, encased within her signature brown bags; instead of "Jinyoung's Wife" though, I had earned an additional title, founded on the basis of my newfound affection for VICTON's adorable maniac.

Takeout was secured at Roywoods, a name formerly seen only in passing within Union Station's York Concourse. Orangecane had opted for the Jerk Pork Sandwich, a saucy compilation of tomato, shredded lettuce, and not-so-mild meat that I was invited to sample.
My own Oxtail Plate was quite the substantial portion, more so than McKoy's and even more generous than Rainbow. The rice and peas was delicious, topped with just enough of the braising liquid to render it supple, while the segments of oxtail were mild yet absolutely flavourful. I, in particular, appreciated the variety of fleshy finds and collagen-containing crevices. Included in the set was a small container of steamed veggies: a good mix of string beans, cauliflower, and broccoli that was unfortunately coated heavily in pepper. Suffice to say that any leftovers were taken home and doused in hot water afterwards.​

​As I raised up my napkin in defeat and sluggishly slid my fork to the side, orangecane jumped up and excitedly announced our next course: the Strawberry and Cream Chiffon Sando. In spite of my repetitive declinations, it was deemed an item to be shared. Moka pot Americanos now stationed by our sides, the sandwich was bisected and forks plunged.
Striking was the sturdiness of the chiffon cake, which I had presumed to be structurally frail. It wasn't as airy as I imagined, nor as moist. Encased within was a whipped cream filling with diced fresh strawberries, far sweeter than my taste buds could sustain yet a suitable counterpart to the otherwise bland carrier of a cake. Quite possibly the highlight were the toppings: fresh strawberry slices and a quenelle of (could it be?) Chantilly cream dusted with (again, could it be?) freeze-dried strawberry powder.

The skies persisted a drab grey, emanating a "stay-at-home-and-slaze*" aura. By mid-afternoon, we finally mustered up determination to propel ourselves back into the outdoors.
* slaze = to sleep or laze about

My suggestion of Altona Forest proved closer than Google Maps' prediction. Within thirty-or-so minutes, I was instructed off the highway and into a predominantly residential neighbourhood. The distinctly suburban qualities of the area strayed from my initial impressions. Suspicions were only further raised upon parking in the tiny dirt lot, a bit more upon entering the area, reaching maximum anxiety at the sight of decayed shrubbery along a narrowing path.

"It feels ominous."
I nodded in agreement.
It was about four minutes into the woods when we agreed on turning back.

​Bidding farewell to the eerie forest, I suggested a stop at Pickering Town Centre for public bathrooms. Mall volumes were on par with pre-COVID levels, with the exception of a relatively barren food court and directional arrows.

​Greenwood Conservatory had been one of the contenders amidst the planning phase, and emerged as a swell Plan B.

​Distanced from suburbia and housing a paved (but slanted) asphalt lot, it already appeared more promising. Visible trail markers and appropriate (accurate) signage indicated regular maintenance as well.

​The Recreational Trail was, as advertised, a forgiving trek with easy access to the conservation's lookout area. Given the dull climate conditions, the scene below appeared relatively uninviting, though the presence of fall colours would likely prove different.

View the full album HERE !

​Duffins Trail was a a tad trickier with obvious changes in elevation. This route provided access to Brougham Creek, where wildlife was spotted within and along its murky waters.

​It looped down into the creekbed, bringing us face to face with increasingly sludgy pathways. Towards the end was an area that was completely submerged; only a few lanky logs served to connect us with the lofty stone staircase we had descended.

​Plodding muddy steps to the asphalt network, the return route to the parking lot was straightforward. We made it back to shelter as the first few droplets began to fall. Once safely inside the vehicle, the forecasted downpour began.

An attempt at accessing a McDonald's bathroom had been denied due to the updated lockdown measures, thus I was forced to take my business elsewhere, in a very literal sense.

​Supper suggestions surrounded Korean cuisine, namely Wang mandu. Given our distance from North York, we resorted to the more feasible option of Sungwon along Hwy 7, orangecane's tried-and-true recommendation.

Situated between Alchemy and MiKi, the casual eatery boasted an unassuming storefront that incredibly easy to miss. In fact, I had pulled into the Alchemy parking lot before realizing my mistake. Order placement had been executed in advance, ensuring a swift pickup process. The attitude on the other side of the phone hadn't been the friendliest, though the grinning faces that greeted my entry and ample assortment of side dishes were quick to alter my impression.

The set of four comprised of a sweet potato salad, japchae, stir-fried fish cake slices, and kimchi. While the half-mashed potato mixture was more sugary than preferred, it worked wonders to combat flickers of kimchi-induced heat. Sungwon's kimchi reminded me of Sikgaek's rendition, which also bridged sweet-spicy properties, albeit the former including larger segments of cabbage. I took few nibbles of the japchae, which oozed the aroma of sesame oil; in contrast, I recall securing several spoonfuls of the carrot-onion-eomuk sequence.

​Wang Mandu arrived in a six-piece set accompanied by a delectable dipping sauce: savoury and tangy with sesame seeds for crunch and gochukaru for a gentle kick. The Bossam kit was orangecane's pick of the evening. Enclosed within was a radish and carrot kimchi, sliced garlic cloves, lettuce for wrapping, two styles of sauce, and, of course, the pork belly slices themselves. A good ratio of flesh to fat was present, though the same could not be declared for the proportion of lettuce wraps to meat. Sauces spanned saewoojeot (salted fermented shrimp) and doenjang (not ssamjang, as the colour had seemed).

Piled into my first ssam were several pieces of garlic, which were later confirmed as spicy and, frankly, rather painful to eat. Unlike Bobooya, these slivers delivered neither pungency nor fragrance, leading me to believe that that they had been thawed from frozen packets.

Although Sungwon has piqued interest with its phenomenal Wang Mandu dipping sauce, loyalty towards Myungdong Kalgusku remains unwavering. As for bossam, my own formula still reins most favourable.