Out & About #790 | Studio Bon, Cafe Login (Round 2) + Papa Giuseppe's

​Long weekends forever entail enthusiasm. With an extra twenty-fours of paid opportunity, I must admit I often feel invincible with the power of time in wield.
 ̶S̶o̶m̶e̶t̶i̶m̶e̶s̶,̶ Usually, the excitement exceeds the physical limitations of reality: back-to-back activities are fervently arranged, executed, then savoured in the work week following. The method maximizes productivity, but also results in a slippery slope to burnout. Again and again, I had repeated the process until I could endure the fatigue no more. Past experiences have taught me to salvage one full day to rest, an unspoken guideline I strive to hold myself accountable to obey.

I had returned to my humble abode in the early evening hours following the nerve-wracking drive up north, and ensured sufficient recovery in advance of a day of driving. Early the next morning saw a trip to Studio Bon - this time with a member of the Gen Z tribe in accompaniment. While I would proceed with my weekly group class as planned, an introductory session was coordinated for her familiarization with classic pilates and form awareness.

On this day, the class comprised of two other beginners, both clad in matching lululemon sets, false nails, and adopting the appearance of low-commitment gym-goers. Overheard was their high-level acquaintance with pilates; observed was a distinctly disparate acclimatization with yoga. Instead of our classic Bosu warm-up series, the Cardio Tramp was obtained and several thigh-warming exercises were conducted. And, as per my expectations, the burning sensation was only furthered in latter parts of the class. 

​My neighbour appeared quite stable for core work. As we transitioned towards upper body exercises with the pilates pole in hand, I summoned all focus for form maintenance. The hand straps were slid onto the pole and hands were wrapped about each side. This set prevented the straps from sliding off, and further provided feedback on body symmetry and strength. My left side was noticeably weaker, to the point where a reduction in spring tension was required to preserve form. I was the first to speak up about the tension amount and retained absolutely no shame in voicing my concerns. One of the other two also admitted to the force being too substantial to handle, though I had a feeling she wouldn't be the first one to do so.

We revisited the second-most intense inner thigh series (with the first being a standing rendition with feet in "turnout position"). With parallel feet placed at hip-distance apart, one foot was planted on the platform extender and the other on the Carriage. Adopting an imprint pelvis in standing position, we were to push the Carriage away from the footbar (platform extender side) and retract it strictly by isolating the inner thighs. A true testament for thigh mobility, I experienced quivers afterwards, followed by tenderness for the next two to three days.

The class concluded at noon, at which point sanitization procedures were executed and a casual set of clothing was donned. Next up on the itinerary was a trip to Yorkdale. The event had stemmed from the selfish desire to obtain UNIQLO's limited edition LINE Friends collaboration hoodie, which was exclusively available at the Eaton Centre and Yorkdale locations.

While Lunar New Year has since passed, I was relieved to find the full collection in stock and with all sizes available! Several other items were acquired during the trip, including a periwinkle AIRism top that may or may not be returned due to my aversion for pastel hues.

We sought sustenance from the food court soon after: Poutine for the youngin and a Lemongrass Pork Banh Mi for myself. Mii Sandwich has done a splendid job of maintaining rein in the upscale mall over the years; now if only their sandwich hadn't yielded stomach queasiness afterwards...

Just beyond the escalators was a Hattendo stall. Their cream buns hadn't impressed me much at their first GTA location, though I was intrigued at the exclusive New Year flavours upon further inspection of their assortment. Red Bean and Matcha were obtained by my companion of the day, while a Houjicha, priced at a premium of $4.19, was chosen for gifting. It was later relayed to be delicious and "not too sweet".

Subsequent stops would involve two fruitless attempts at procuring flavoured soju - or any soju, really - from LCBO and a brief stay at Cafe Login.
But fate worked in our favour. As I began to experience rumbles in my tummy, a couple was spotted gathering their belongings and clearing the table. I quickly hovered beside it, then nabbed the four-seater before scurrying off to the single stall bathroom.

A third member joined our party some twenty minutes later, at which point desserts were plucked from the display case and arranged onto ceramic plates for photos and portioning.
Revisiting their macaron selection, a $3.50 Matcha Oreo was selected. Quite a travesty to divide three ways, visuals were comprised during the process. Despite the shattered shell and smeared interior, our opinions of the specimen remained unchanged: the filling was buttery smooth and luscious, while the Oreo atop supplied a dark, cacao-y crunch. "The shell is a bit gummy." admitted the one across the table. And it was, truthfully, but still airier than a profile I could manage anyway.

​An Earl Grey Cookie, complete with glaze infused with distinct specks of the corresponding tea leaves, was the second item of interest. I deemed it passable, for the dough was stiff and firmer than its appearance alluded towards. The sweet coating compensated for lack of depth of the dough, but was meagerly tinged with the essence of Earl Grey.

Cheesecake quarters adopting the golden finish of a half-baked, half-steamed Japanese Cheesecake came into view. Even beyond the display case, they appeared flat and dense. Equipped with the ability to construct my own variations, I would have steered clear. Nonetheless, I was open to suggestions of my dining partners and agreed to attempt. My suspicions were proven upon closer inspection of the cross-section: a rigid slab brimming with moisture and a near-absence of air pockets. A forkful of the slice confirmed the questionable consistency of a sturdy pudding; sampling resulted in disgust from a repulsive roux base and utter lack of cheesiness. My one-third section was shoved to the side without remorse while I proceeded to ingest the others.

​Dinner plans had been shifted earlier than planned, prompting a swift wrap-up at the Thornhill café and final stop at Gong Cha for the youngin's take-home provisions. The return route had appeared painless at first, but 401 congestion soon brought us to a halt. A weary thirty minutes passed as we inched forward. Eventually, we made it back to our respective homes before dusk.

​Making haste, I re-assembled my belongings for yet another outing - this time as a passenger.

​My suggestion of Papa Giuseppe's had been regarded fondly. Our main concerns comprised of the availability of parking and table space, given the compact size of the establishment. Google Maps validated intactness of the Port Credit Memorial Library parking lot, while a quick call to the Italian eatery confirmed a table opening for three. True to their words, we were seated immediately. The table was situated between a L-shaped booth and two standalone chairs, permitting sufficient space from other diners and a decent view of happenings within the open kitchen.

Opinions were consolidated and recommendations were extended. I learned of:

• Aversion towards cream sauce-based pizzas, otherwise known as "pizza bianca";
• Unfamiliarity with rosé sauce; and
• Acceptance of all variations in pasta format.

Between the three of us, a Nonna's Pizza and Smoked Duck Carbonara was requested for sharing.

​The dishes earned fantastic praise. First came bewildered "oohs" and "aahs" at the pizza's delicately charred edges and warm, stringy strands of melted cheese, next the ravenous gaze and excited bits of carbonara. Then was sheer silence: bobbing heads and elated palates were perceived from my corner seat, and a subtle grin escaped the corners of my mouth.

"You know it's good pizza when it holds up!" was remarked of the thin crust. I was in full agreement of this comment, for keeping moisture at bay is the key to a crisp, delectable base.

​Also drawing commentary was the contrast of coarse chunks of smoked duck with the rich silkiness of Parmesan-topped pasta, to which I, again, silently concurred.

​A brief trek about the district ensued as we contemplated dessert options in the vicinity.

Port Credit is gorgeous during the day and especially in the summer months, yet the arrival of nightfall gave way to a different method of appreciation. The waters were a somber navy bearing faint glimmers of the rippling river, rivalling the darkest of night skies with the subtle twinkle of stars in the distant universe. Lights had been wound about the lighthouse, serving as the highlight of our snowy saunter.​

With Scoops closed for the season, EVA's Originals out, and all bakeries shuttered for the evening, we took our fix slightly east of the waterfront neighbourhood.

Known as a home for crepes in the southeast side of the city, we ventured through the tiny accessway, unsure of what to expect. Having vocalized the dine-in option, we were guided to the seating area. Only one other table occupied the space, making for an extremely peaceful stay. The lady proceeded to remove a sign from one of the tables, then gestured towards it with a smile. Initially having thought it read "Reserved", the words "Sanitized" were spotted with a more critical gaze.

Two (extremely overpriced!!) MKM Milkshakes succeeded in satisfying the sugar fix of my dining companions. In review of my queasy stomach, I took to observing instead, though was informed of the milkshakes' delicious properties.