My two-month on-site project has been suffering continuous delays: from locate issues to a supposedly industry-wide cement powder shortage, I've been waiting anxiously for the commencement of a potentially calescent challenge. I had shifted some appointments to prepare for this assignment, only to heave a sigh of relief as my on-site presence got delayed. Albeit exciting, the very act of being away from home is restricting in its ability to maximize and re-purpose time accordingly, whether it be completing chores, running errands, or taking calls. Without access to a computer, controlled setting, or A/C, the flexibility of my working environment diminishes drastically.
Another aspect I've yet to re-adjust towards would be the need for packed lunches. Soupy, boney components are difficult to compress into a thermo, and even more difficult to consume while on the go. It is unlikely that frozen kale (and ready-to-toast snacks) would be as accessible as they are currently in my work-from-home state.
This is not to say that I don't have days of low sustenance. However, such situations can easily mitigated by the retrieval of a Cape Seed slice and mozzarella chunks, both preserved in the freezer for days demanding instant solutions.
This is not to say that I don't have days of low sustenance. However, such situations can easily mitigated by the retrieval of a Cape Seed slice and mozzarella chunks, both preserved in the freezer for days demanding instant solutions.
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I'm learning that purple strands are not so easy to maintain, even with the assistance of pricey purple shampoo. Sectioning the hair is crucial, as is dampening prior to application. Gloves provide a more thorough application, for ungloved digits reveal signs of staining even after washing. As evident in recent outings, the original intensity is impossible to sustain; furthermore, tinting the hair evenly is tragic without third-party help.
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Rapidly disappearing leftovers had prompted another purchase from thairoomgrand. This time, a different struggle was encountered with the online ordering system. As I fell outside of the 5-kilometre delivery radius, there was no way to take advantage of the 18% off promo using the most convenient address.
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Instead, my Mango Chicken, Calamari, and Panang Curry were sent to the sleepy polar bear's. In hindsight, I ought to have pushed the delivery boundaries a tad more, for my $2 points redemption became the equivalent of my roundtrip gas spendings.
As predicted, the Panang Curry was far too peppery for my tastebuds. The Calamari, though petite in portion, was spectacular; a thin layer of breading contributed a subtle, crunchy dimension to the otherwise chewy consistency. I steered clear of the dipping sauce, though presumed it to improve depth for those capable of handling spice.
Mango Chicken was creamy and sweet - a distant relative of Cantonese sweet and sour pork, but tossed in a richer, coconut milk-based formula instead of a high-viscosity, tangy red sauce.
Mango Chicken was creamy and sweet - a distant relative of Cantonese sweet and sour pork, but tossed in a richer, coconut milk-based formula instead of a high-viscosity, tangy red sauce.
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Similar to last year, I took the opportunity to request two days for uninterrupted personal schedules.
First was a weeknight dinner with the owner of the now-shuttered Waterloocakeshop. Over five years had passed since our last meetup, but, in reality, it didn't feel quite as long. Conversations had been held periodically on virtual platforms over the years, condensing life happenings into milestone updates rather than menial daily tidbits.
We excitedly dove into conversation, as if there hadn't been any gaps at all.
First was a weeknight dinner with the owner of the now-shuttered Waterloocakeshop. Over five years had passed since our last meetup, but, in reality, it didn't feel quite as long. Conversations had been held periodically on virtual platforms over the years, condensing life happenings into milestone updates rather than menial daily tidbits.
We excitedly dove into conversation, as if there hadn't been any gaps at all.
My proposal for Papa Giuseppe's had emerged from thin air. I knew not of any recent restaurant openings in the city, thus reverted to a reliable choice needing no reservations.
Between us, we shared the Rocket and a Lobster Ravioli. The combo would satisfy my dining partner's preference for cream sauce items, while the arugula and prosciutto-topped pizza my needs for fresh greens and iron. A deliberate drizzle of balsamic compensated for the cured ham's excessive saltiness, while the cherry tomatoes provided bursts of sweetness. Ravioli wrappers were thick, serving to easily curb hunger alongside its buttery, garlicy base.
Between us, we shared the Rocket and a Lobster Ravioli. The combo would satisfy my dining partner's preference for cream sauce items, while the arugula and prosciutto-topped pizza my needs for fresh greens and iron. A deliberate drizzle of balsamic compensated for the cured ham's excessive saltiness, while the cherry tomatoes provided bursts of sweetness. Ravioli wrappers were thick, serving to easily curb hunger alongside its buttery, garlicy base.
Slight regret was extended towards the restaurant's choice of replacing garlic bread with plain, toasted baguette slices.
We proceeded to saunter about the area around sundown.
The primary objective was to acquire dessert. That said, neither of us were in a particular rush to return home for the evening. Upon entering the world of adulthood, time is truly of the essence, and I'd like to optimize such periods with friends whenever possible, even at the cost of sleep and recovery.
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Donning my invisible tour guide hat, I suggested crossing to the south side of Lakeshore. There were fewer mosquitoes to be met and better views of the string lights adorning the lighthouse. Heading west, I introduced my partner-in-crime to La Diperie. A few years have passed since its initial arrival in Trinity Bellwoods, however the franchise was still relatively new to the suburbs of GTA.
A small Vanilla Soft Serve w/ Espresso Dip and Rainbow Sprinkles weaved its way to one of our hands. I was informed of the smooth qualities of tempered chocolate, then the obnoxious sweetness of the soft serve encased within.
Retracing our path east, we heard fireworks from the park, yet saw only colourful glimmers shrouded by shrubbery.
Retracing our path east, we heard fireworks from the park, yet saw only colourful glimmers shrouded by shrubbery.
Leonidas' storefront caught my attention. The Belgian chocolate shop boasted an array of intricate truffles and boxed merchandise, yet the item warranting attention was their Belgian Chocolate Dipped Ice Cream. The concept was actually identical to La Diperie, however customers had the option of choosing between Vanilla Soft Serve, Chocolate Soft Serve, or a Twist.
Naturally, I sought out the best of both worlds - my ice cream truck go-to - and proceeded with a Pistachio Dip. The cone would set me back four dollars, and the dip an additional one-fifty. The chocolate shell was fabulous, but the soft serve was, once again, too melty and too sugary for my tastes.
A single bathroom stall could be found towards the back of the dessert parlour. Not only was it less filthy than I anticipated (for closing time, anyway), their toilet was about identical to the one in my own bathroom. Admittedly, I found it a tad odd for the stall to adopt the format of a narrow corridor, yet only the toilet resided on an elevated step.
Shocking it had been to find the streets of Port Credit persistently occupied by people on a weeknight evening. Most were young adults; some seemed unemployed. Irrefutable was the heavy presence of cigarettes and marijuana.
Our conversations continued into the late evening, away from the skunky stenches, eventually leading to a midnight return.
Shocking it had been to find the streets of Port Credit persistently occupied by people on a weeknight evening. Most were young adults; some seemed unemployed. Irrefutable was the heavy presence of cigarettes and marijuana.
Our conversations continued into the late evening, away from the skunky stenches, eventually leading to a midnight return.
The next afternoon saw plans with my one and only birthday buddy. She had responded positively to my ̶p̶r̶o̶p̶o̶s̶a̶l̶ request of keeping the hangout low-key and local, though noted that some degree of effort ought be invested into our getups.
"Shouldn't we try since it's our birthday?" It was a fair point, and try we did.
"Shouldn't we try since it's our birthday?" It was a fair point, and try we did.
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Banh mi had been suggested for around the 12:40 PM mark. Alas, the "cute" orders had endangered all punctuality (though it's questionable whether it'd be maintained either way). We met up closer to the 1:30 PM mark instead, and sped off for sustenance shortly afterwards. It still remains a mystery to me how so many people get on without breakfast in the morning.
I turned into the Mississauga Chinese Centre before reaching my bookmarked destination. As Google Maps would inform me, Banh Mi Saigon Bakery wasn't for another intersection. Seeing as we had secured parking anyway, we ventured out underneath the scorching UV rays, only to find my birthday buddy's go-to spot closed until the following week.
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From the corner of my eye was a vivid pink storefront: "Xe Kem" it read in thin, white lettering.
We popped our heads inside the compact space, peering about to spot a variety of packaged desserts. From Salted Egg Sponge Cake to Ube Ice Cream to soft serve in charcoal waffle cones, there was bound to be one item of interest. I personally found the small containers of Coffee Jelly quite interesting, and even contemplated acquiring one for the sleepy polar bear before the external conditions dawned on me. Given the humidity levels and duration before our return, making a second visit strictly for sweets sampling was deduced as the better alternative.
We popped our heads inside the compact space, peering about to spot a variety of packaged desserts. From Salted Egg Sponge Cake to Ube Ice Cream to soft serve in charcoal waffle cones, there was bound to be one item of interest. I personally found the small containers of Coffee Jelly quite interesting, and even contemplated acquiring one for the sleepy polar bear before the external conditions dawned on me. Given the humidity levels and duration before our return, making a second visit strictly for sweets sampling was deduced as the better alternative.
From the refrigerator, I reached for a bottled Plum Kumquat beverage, which the man behind the cashier gladly offered to transfer to a cup with ice. Goji berries, citrus peel, and red dates floated to its surface. The drink was refreshing, neither overly sweet nor sour - ideal for consumption in warm climate.
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Strolling through the Sino Mall grocery store, I was ecstatic to find not only more than one brand of ube extract, but also an array of ube halaya jam to choose from. The selection at BTrust was noticeably more limited. Grabbing the seemingly popular McCormick brand extract and ube spread with lowest sugar content, we returned once more to the sizzling outdoor situation.
By the fish pond, we engaged in snapping a few quick shots of our outfits. Thank goodness we did, for my meticulously drawn eyeliner was ruthlessly purged from its place just ten minutes after.
By the fish pond, we engaged in snapping a few quick shots of our outfits. Thank goodness we did, for my meticulously drawn eyeliner was ruthlessly purged from its place just ten minutes after.
The less preferable of the banh mi shops, according to my brithday buddy, was Nguyet Minh Banh Mi. Operating as both a retailer for specialty Vietnamese ingredients and a cash-only takeout joint for banh mi and pho, we joined the queue while gazing upon their menu.
Communicating with the staff was a horrific mission. The cashier was first managed by a middle-aged man in a baseball cap. He spoke with mixed English and Vietnamese, though still at a comprehensible degree. He swapped spots with an older lady as we neared the counter. She spoke not a lick of English, but continued to speak to us under the assumption that we could make out her words. I couldn't; neither of us could. The swap made the ordering process incredibly confusing. My birthday buddy was originally charged four dollars and was handed bottled water along with her banh mi. She returned the water, explaining that it had not been requesting, earning one dollar back from the cashier. My duplicate order was handed to me several minutes later, after further exchanges of confusion.
Communicating with the staff was a horrific mission. The cashier was first managed by a middle-aged man in a baseball cap. He spoke with mixed English and Vietnamese, though still at a comprehensible degree. He swapped spots with an older lady as we neared the counter. She spoke not a lick of English, but continued to speak to us under the assumption that we could make out her words. I couldn't; neither of us could. The swap made the ordering process incredibly confusing. My birthday buddy was originally charged four dollars and was handed bottled water along with her banh mi. She returned the water, explaining that it had not been requesting, earning one dollar back from the cashier. My duplicate order was handed to me several minutes later, after further exchanges of confusion.
The No. 2 Pork Roll, Cured Pork & Pate Banh Mi rang in at an extremely affordable three dollars. We unveiled them once back in the car, A/C blasting. My partner-in-crime bit into hers with glee, commenting on the cilantro within. A nibble of a protruding carrot sliver overwhelmed with spice.
"It's spicy!" I exclaimed in dismay.
"Really? Mine is fine, I think" came the response.
I took a proper bite of the sandwich. Again, the spice was present, though not uniformly distributed along its length. In consideration of time, I hadn't been keen to try a different shop, thus continued nibbling along while complaining of heat. Roughly one-third in, I was met with misfortune. It was neither the pâté nor the sauce, but likely a jalapeno disguised amongst the cilantro-looking strands. Fire spread throughout the insides of my mouth, first merely in the form of heat, then transforming into an unbearable bitterness that extended beyond the mouth cavity and towards the throat. Quickened breaths and silent screams could be heard.
"It's spicy!" I exclaimed in dismay.
"Really? Mine is fine, I think" came the response.
I took a proper bite of the sandwich. Again, the spice was present, though not uniformly distributed along its length. In consideration of time, I hadn't been keen to try a different shop, thus continued nibbling along while complaining of heat. Roughly one-third in, I was met with misfortune. It was neither the pâté nor the sauce, but likely a jalapeno disguised amongst the cilantro-looking strands. Fire spread throughout the insides of my mouth, first merely in the form of heat, then transforming into an unbearable bitterness that extended beyond the mouth cavity and towards the throat. Quickened breaths and silent screams could be heard.
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"Are you okay??"
I opened my mouth to reply, only to be hit with a differnt form of pain: numbing in the lips and tongue. Saliva would burn the mouth cavity, to the point where speaking was unthinkable.
Pounding on my surroundings while gasping for air, I reached for the Plum Kumquat drink in an attempt to alleviate the torture. Minimal extinguishing was done; the drink was neither milky nor creamy, with only ice cubes serving as the temporary source of relief.
"Don't die!" came a worried chuckle from the passenger seat.
I lurched over in my seat, tears oozing uncontrollably. They turned black upon hitting eye cosmetics, trickling down in a most dramatic fashion.
I had neither requested the inclusion of spice, nor been asked of its acceptability. The banh mi had wrecked havoc on my tastebuds, making for an experience more agonizing than any other spice encounter. In the moment that tears came rolling down, it felt as if someone had stunned me, that the torment had been summoned from deep within the soul to be unleased into the world. I could think of no other moment where food had hurt me so tremendously.
I opened my mouth to reply, only to be hit with a differnt form of pain: numbing in the lips and tongue. Saliva would burn the mouth cavity, to the point where speaking was unthinkable.
Pounding on my surroundings while gasping for air, I reached for the Plum Kumquat drink in an attempt to alleviate the torture. Minimal extinguishing was done; the drink was neither milky nor creamy, with only ice cubes serving as the temporary source of relief.
"Don't die!" came a worried chuckle from the passenger seat.
I lurched over in my seat, tears oozing uncontrollably. They turned black upon hitting eye cosmetics, trickling down in a most dramatic fashion.
I had neither requested the inclusion of spice, nor been asked of its acceptability. The banh mi had wrecked havoc on my tastebuds, making for an experience more agonizing than any other spice encounter. In the moment that tears came rolling down, it felt as if someone had stunned me, that the torment had been summoned from deep within the soul to be unleased into the world. I could think of no other moment where food had hurt me so tremendously.
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Furious and still hungry, I started the engine and announced our next stop: Banh Mi Saigon. Further suffering would not occur - not for $3, not on any day.
Pulling into the same plaza as The Fry, the prevalence of banh mi stops finally occurred to me. They were slightly pricier than Nguyet Minh, but I wasn't about to go back.
Pulling into the same plaza as The Fry, the prevalence of banh mi stops finally occurred to me. They were slightly pricier than Nguyet Minh, but I wasn't about to go back.
I found solace at Banh Mi Saigon, where the lady behind the counter not only made efforts to communicate clearly, but spoke fluent English and inquired whether I would like my sandwich spicy. "No...!" I sputtered urgently. "No spicy please."
My $4.50 Assorted Bahn Mi (No. 1) was splendid. There was no pâté, but I could finally enjoy my late lunch in peace.
From Banh Mi Ba Le, the birthday buddy obtained a tri-colour dessert by the name of Chè Ba Màu. I've never been too familiar with Vietnamese cuisine, and am even unlikelier to have a ranking. Pho was my first foray. I suppose banh mi will constitute the second.
My $4.50 Assorted Bahn Mi (No. 1) was splendid. There was no pâté, but I could finally enjoy my late lunch in peace.
From Banh Mi Ba Le, the birthday buddy obtained a tri-colour dessert by the name of Chè Ba Màu. I've never been too familiar with Vietnamese cuisine, and am even unlikelier to have a ranking. Pho was my first foray. I suppose banh mi will constitute the second.
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Square One was our next stop.
New LINE t-shirts were discovered at UNIQLO while on a mission for AIRism tanks. Two of the designs were reminiscent of those released in Q1 for the Year of the Tiger - one earning significantly more favouritism than the other.
New LINE t-shirts were discovered at UNIQLO while on a mission for AIRism tanks. Two of the designs were reminiscent of those released in Q1 for the Year of the Tiger - one earning significantly more favouritism than the other.
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After bulk barn errands, we (me) made a beeline for The Rec Room. Like the Burnaby location, we too had received Nintendo Switches for redemption prizes. The KitchenAid stand mixer, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.
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Starbucks (and yogen fruz) was/were obtained and chatter continued on the upper floor benches. Eventually, Golden Hour descended upon us. I originally had plans to return home for supper, though, with notifications of fridge invetory depletion, I was left to seek out my own sustenance.
Kibo has finally opened in The Food District! Part (overpriced) marketplace, part food stall, and part dine-in establishment, the arrangement of the sushi spot was quite neat. Dedicated booths were few, yet decorated in a modern manner. Those looking to consume their purchases fresh could revert to the general dining area within The Food District.
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Packages containing raw fish were removed from the display case as the clock struck 8:45 PM. Remaining were rice bowls that were recently transferred from the hot food display to the refrigerator.
I took to a $15.99 Bulgogi Donburi, which came to a reasonable $12.65 after their 30% end-of-day discount. Atop a seasoned layer of short-grain rice were japchae, thin, rubbery egg strips, a sad floret of broccoli, and a generous portion of stewed beef strips. With the exception of the veggies and egg, the bowl was, in fact, quite a tasty find.
I took to a $15.99 Bulgogi Donburi, which came to a reasonable $12.65 after their 30% end-of-day discount. Atop a seasoned layer of short-grain rice were japchae, thin, rubbery egg strips, a sad floret of broccoli, and a generous portion of stewed beef strips. With the exception of the veggies and egg, the bowl was, in fact, quite a tasty find.
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We continued our conversations into the evening, wrapping up just before 11 PM. It was then time to head back and pack for the following day's surprise event.
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