As I sit in contemplation of the meetings, approved and potential change orders, and other trivial calamities of the week past, I can confirm that work duties have permeated into nearly every waking moment of my existence. My familiarization with financial matters is germinating gradually: a broader perspective facilitates the inferno that is invoicing, yet unsuccessful are the attempts in appeasing the mind leading up the submission deadline.
T̶y̶p̶i̶n̶g̶ Toiling into the early evenings render me feeble in the departments of physical and mental capacity. The lack of energy prompted an earlier dinner (before 9 PM, for once), then followed with a sweltering neighbourhood saunter.
T̶y̶p̶i̶n̶g̶ Toiling into the early evenings render me feeble in the departments of physical and mental capacity. The lack of energy prompted an earlier dinner (before 9 PM, for once), then followed with a sweltering neighbourhood saunter.
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Coffee Crisp enters the playing field on several occasions, accompanied by countless jolts of java to fuel withering cognitive capacity.
A proposed "half-day Friday" commences with a grueling journey along the 401; the much-anticipated physio appointment awaits at the other end of the 60 km drive. For the aching back, neck, shoulders, and all other stress-infected muscle groups, the session serves to relieve and re-educate on the limitations of the human body, as well as the need for mobility.
Emails received throughout the visit conclude significance in logging back into the work portal. Around the 3:30 PM mark, I pull up to Platform with hopes of plugging in and engaging in proper conversation with my sidekick. Pulling open the door, I am greeted by the owner, who then proceeds to provide unfortunate news: The café was slated to close at 4 PM. Moreover, all acceptably distanced tables were occupied.
Disappointed - but not yet distraught - I thanked her and navigated towards Main Street Unionville. Corner 20 was spotted out of the corner of my eye; I found parking in the garage, gathered my weighty belongings, and waddled over in my flat foot-friendly footwear. Much to my dismay, the same message was relayed to me. I spun on my heel as soon as I heard the words: "We're closing in twenty minutes."
Emails received throughout the visit conclude significance in logging back into the work portal. Around the 3:30 PM mark, I pull up to Platform with hopes of plugging in and engaging in proper conversation with my sidekick. Pulling open the door, I am greeted by the owner, who then proceeds to provide unfortunate news: The café was slated to close at 4 PM. Moreover, all acceptably distanced tables were occupied.
Disappointed - but not yet distraught - I thanked her and navigated towards Main Street Unionville. Corner 20 was spotted out of the corner of my eye; I found parking in the garage, gathered my weighty belongings, and waddled over in my flat foot-friendly footwear. Much to my dismay, the same message was relayed to me. I spun on my heel as soon as I heard the words: "We're closing in twenty minutes."
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Eventually, I settled for the general parking area and set my next target as pod coffee. A man with a laptop was spotted outside the shop - "If he can work, then so can I!" were my immediate thoughts. Heaving in the horrendous humidity, I gathered my things once more, but this time only roughly grabbing by the edges of the tote. In a matter of seconds, the laptop plummeted to the ground, striking my unshielded big toe at the depths of its descent. My mouth dropped, agape, yet not a single sound could be uttered. Overcome with shock and excruciating pain, I wallowed in an agonizing thirty seconds before coming to terms with reality. And just as I thought I could carry on, a splotch of maroon began to surface. Blood.
I tended to my toe with exasperation and awe, for what was the probability of two failed attempts to secure an air-conditioned, Wi-Fi-enabled workplace and a treacherous thump on the foot amidst the unruly chaos. Swapping my open-toed sandals for trusty runners, I hobbled across the street. pod coffee offered no bathroom for handwashing, no budget-friendly beverages, and, furthermore, no amicability whatsoever. The third time was most definitely not the charm.
Next door was The Alley, where a delivery driver swooped before me in line - with an air of outright righteousness, might I add - and demanded his drinks. The cashier was kind, albeit a bit difficult to hear behind the plexiglass barrier. I dabbed at my forehead while in wait of Order No. 31, and was then shoved my Dark Knight by the barista who had the same tremendous demeanour as pod coffee's sole operator.
At long last, I would find myself outside and ready to dive back into work endeavours, only to be warmly welcomed by fumes originating from cigarettes and cannabis. Oh, Markham, how I have learned to loathe thee.
Next door was The Alley, where a delivery driver swooped before me in line - with an air of outright righteousness, might I add - and demanded his drinks. The cashier was kind, albeit a bit difficult to hear behind the plexiglass barrier. I dabbed at my forehead while in wait of Order No. 31, and was then shoved my Dark Knight by the barista who had the same tremendous demeanour as pod coffee's sole operator.
At long last, I would find myself outside and ready to dive back into work endeavours, only to be warmly welcomed by fumes originating from cigarettes and cannabis. Oh, Markham, how I have learned to loathe thee.
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Seeing my despair, ochungg offered an opportunity to disinfect my wound. I readily accepted, and proceeded to relay my woes with utmost frustration. My eyes fell upon a mini mahjong kit, one that sparked a suppressed appetite for the game. The Expression of Interest was responded to in a positive manner; I was set to join the group around 8:30 PM.
Dinner was scheduled with orangecane at Jin Myungdong Kalguksu, a destination that both of us had bookmarked for some forgotten duration.
Dinner was scheduled with orangecane at Jin Myungdong Kalguksu, a destination that both of us had bookmarked for some forgotten duration.
We made one full revolution about the plaza before locating the restaurant. The asphalt spaces before the entrance had been transformed to a makeshift patio with a gazebo pop-up gazebo installed for protection against the elements. A total of four tables were positioned outside, with us occupying the only two-seater.
The middle-aged server had eyed us warily upon our arrival. Menus were slid to us with minimal emotion, then retrieved in an identical fashion. She appeared exhausted, yet watchful of our intentions. A washroom excursion earned me a leery glare, to which another nearby server reacted prudently.
The middle-aged server had eyed us warily upon our arrival. Menus were slid to us with minimal emotion, then retrieved in an identical fashion. She appeared exhausted, yet watchful of our intentions. A washroom excursion earned me a leery glare, to which another nearby server reacted prudently.
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Our decisions lay with the King-Size Dumpling (왕 만두), BiBim KalGukSu (비빔 갈국수), and Mul Naengmyun (물냉면). First to arrive were the cold noodles. The Stainless steel bowl was delivered on a serving tray with a shallow bowl, a small portion of heavily salted kimchi, a few pieces of pickled cabbage and onion, and disposable containers of mustard and white vinegar. On a separate tray was a duplicate of the bowl and pickled cabbage-onion-jalapeño medley. Majority of these sides were left unsampled, for the remaining dishes rapidly pervaded stomach space.
Although the slushy edition would have been preferred in the given climate, the MulNaeng was nonetheless refreshing. The broth was slightly tart, as it should be, with chewy noodles slightly submerged within. Admittedly, my top pick must reside with Cho Sun Ok, for the noodles were too tough to cut with bare teeth. A similar product could also be obtained from (the now blacklisted) Sikgaek.
Although the slushy edition would have been preferred in the given climate, the MulNaeng was nonetheless refreshing. The broth was slightly tart, as it should be, with chewy noodles slightly submerged within. Admittedly, my top pick must reside with Cho Sun Ok, for the noodles were too tough to cut with bare teeth. A similar product could also be obtained from (the now blacklisted) Sikgaek.
Next up was the Wang Mandu. Six teensy rounds were scattered across the steamer compartment, adopting an appearance akin to Myundong Kalguksu back home. Yet, the size difference was quite vast. I shortly learned of the staggering deviation in quality as well. The bottoms stuck to the steamer sheet, causing the wrappers to tear and spill porky juices over the steamer sheet. Chive chunks were noticeable and plush they were not; over the course of the meal, the tops grew progressively more parched, leading to dry, dismal dumplings.
Their signature kalguksu was, thankfully, an item fitting of our expectations. Served with gochujang, perilla leaves, shredded romaine lettuce, julienned carrots, and cucumber slices, the cold flour noodles were the highlight of the ensemble. Charred pork and a scallion-topped broth had arrived alongside the bowl, though quickly forgotten as I dove into the substantial savoury-spicy portion. Perilla leaves added a wispy bitterness that was not unwelcome in the consumption process.
Their signature kalguksu was, thankfully, an item fitting of our expectations. Served with gochujang, perilla leaves, shredded romaine lettuce, julienned carrots, and cucumber slices, the cold flour noodles were the highlight of the ensemble. Charred pork and a scallion-topped broth had arrived alongside the bowl, though quickly forgotten as I dove into the substantial savoury-spicy portion. Perilla leaves added a wispy bitterness that was not unwelcome in the consumption process.
Our meal concluded around 8:40 PM, at which point previously miscommunicated information would lead to a dreary detour to the Scarborough-Pickering boundary.
It wasn't until 10 PM that I pulled up to the house of philosophical mahjong enthusiasts to engage in three rounds of slow tune-backed somnolence.
The singular creation of the week was Strawberry Matcha Mousse.
Spurred from the rarest of hankerings, Strawberry Jam was assembled via the trusty breadmaker method in the early days of the work week. The condiment was then utilized as the foundation of the coveted tri-layer dessert.
Spurred from the rarest of hankerings, Strawberry Jam was assembled via the trusty breadmaker method in the early days of the work week. The condiment was then utilized as the foundation of the coveted tri-layer dessert.
I advanced under the influence of innovation, as I often do. The bottom layer combined strawberry jam, gelatin, and heavy cream whipped to soft peaks and folded with sweetened condensed milk. A middle layer of matcha mousse was an impromptu decision, yet one that was incorporated with minimal hesitation; the base was identical to the former, with jam swapped for a viscous paste of bittersweet grassiness. At the surface was a thin layer of strawberry jelly, constructed strictly of gelatin and jam.
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Having obtained a better handle on the proportion of gelatin to mousse, I can confidently declare this experiment a success. The varying textures offer a satisfying mouthfeel, while the combination of flavours cover contrasts of sweet floral and aromatic earthiness.
The treats were enjoyed with orangecane's gifted Catalan De Las Mercedes, bestowed upon her in late June. A sparkling, lightly acidic roast, it was deemed most suitable for filter coffee. The first foray was announced with a pourover, though the second may be my go-to cold brew.
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My affection for all things LINE Friends did not go unnoticed, including that of an unprecedented longing for DIY bracelets bearing charms of the brand's character lineup. At the current point in time, I've still yet to assemble the first kit, however it appears that the opportunity to undertake the mission has now doubled.
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