Out & About #825 | NEOB Niagara + Birthday Dinner

Few flowers fill my soul with joy. Their fragility and constant need for care does not align with my lifestyle needs. And while one can argue that flowers are the fruition of labour and dedication, they ultimately hold no purpose, as opposed to continuous efforts in fostering a skill or constructing a tangible product.

But lavender ticks off all the boxes for gratification:

• They are fragrant - subtle yet pronounced in presence.
• They require minimal care, and are just as stunning fresh as they are dried.
• Most importantly, they are purple.

Visiting a lavender field has been on the bucket list for a few years now. Perhaps it started when excursions to floral destinations was popularized over social media, when hiking trips were too great of an investment for the like seekers. Sunflowers, being grand and exuberant, were immensely popular for their visual impact. Lavender, on the other hand, boasted a delicate appearance embodying serenity: an allure known only ​to those patient enough to embrace - and appreciate - them.

When tickets had sold out due to capacity limits last year, I postponed the bucket item list for fulfillment the following year, as the harvest of the purple plant was limited to the month of July.

​We departed roughly forty minutes later than planned, with the fault being mine and mine only. The original anticipated travel period was 60 to 90 minutes, yet the estimated arrival time was progressively delayed as we headed westward. One hour became an hour and a half, and an hour and a half became two hours. Congestion was inevitable along the entire stretch; in conjunction with Oomomo lashes rejecting the donning of sunglasses, it made for the most grueling of long-distance trips.

View the full album HERE !

Eventually, we pulled into the lot of NEOB Lavender. Relieved to breathe fresh air once more, we darted out into the scorching sun, hoping to find blooming buds and bathrooms. The latter did not exist, much to our dismay. A modernized port-a-potty was made known to us between the ticketing booth and antique shop. As there was but only one stall, the lineup was quite lengthy. I foregoed the minimal indoor plumbing services on site, resolving to delay such needs to the nearest Starbucks or Tim Hortons after the tour.
That said, let it be known that one should satisfy lavatory needs prior to stepping foot on the farm. No pity shall be had.

​Admission to the lavender field was ten dollars per person, with each ticket including a tour of the greenhouse and lavender varieties as well as a five-dollar voucher (one per admission ticket) for use in the gift shop. All furnishings within view were painted a splendid royal purple, from the ticketing kiosk to the benches to the photo zone fixtures.

Tours were held at various times throughout the day. Seeing as we had arrived just in time for the 1 PM one, we followed the group into the greenhouse. Outside had been breezy albeit blindingly sunny; within the greenhouse was opposite conditions of diffused lighting and a humid atmosphere. Different varieties of lavender were introduced to us - some for healing properties such as surface-level burns and scrapes and some for culinary purposes such as infused shortbread. It was made known that not all lavender species were purple either. Strands of white buds were of a different species, and would never transition to the typical lavender hue we know.
The greenhouse also supported the growth of other flowers, including rose geranium and marigold. Witnessed in the farm's gift shop were beauty and household cleaning products featuring the former.

​Toasty for an outdoor excursion, we had opted for thin, breathable fabric and headwear for sun protection. The field offered no shade whatsoever, though benches beneath a canopy and lofty tree in the distance could serve as an area of respite if needed.

NEOB was dissimilar to my only other point of reference, Terre Bleu. The fields were drier, grass crunchier, and shrubs more compact. They adopted a blue-ish, sprouting upwards instead of outwards.

​Its aura was more farm-like, placing greater emphasis on the agricultural aspects of growth, harvest, and extraction (processing) rather than intending to be a commercial attraction.
Still, there were, of course, designated areas for photo-taking. A wooden frame and two-step staircase, both painted in the same glorious shade of royal purple, were positioned at the farm's east end, allowing visitors to capture their desired take before rows and rows of stout, flourishing shrubs.

​Skies were a shining blue, with some scarce streaks of clouds here and there. It was, after all, a sweltering summer afternoon.

​We took the gift shop after roughly forty minutes of perusing. Other visitors had similar thoughts, for the small space was packed with unmasked customers and stagnant queues at the cashier. Masks were immediately donned out of concern. In recent days, friends have been seen falling like flies. Even without those warnings, the sheer sight of crowding still furrows my brows with worry.

After much contemplation, we depart with 250ml bottles of Lavender and Lavender & Mint Hygienic Handrubs (the largest sanitizer spray bottles ever to be seen), a multi-use Lavender Roll-On for tension relief and light skin abrasions, and a lavender essential oil-infused lip balm. Lavender Sparkling Soda Water, an in-store exclusive, was also purchased for later enjoyment. The bottles are sealed and chilled, ready for consumption whenever a mood boost is called for.

Our previous visit had seen temporary halting of samples, such that customers would not be tempted to remove their face coverings. This year, the mandate is no longer in effect, and the sampling station has been reinstated.

​We then depart for the nearest Starbucks, only to spot a Tim Hortons en route and detour on the bases of bathroom availability and sustenance assortment.

A Roast Beef & Cheddar Sandwich and Strawberry Watermelon combo appeases my 2 PM appetite, the latter tasting absolutely synthetic and unnecessarily sweet. An Iced Tea Quencher, Classic Lemonade, and Honey Cruller Donut suffices for the rest of the party.

Washrooms are passable in terms of cleanliness, though liquid soap was depleted in the accessible stall. It pains me that Kimberly-Clark sheets are still yet to be replaced with sturdy, commercial-grade rolls. (Are they easier to refill? Lowered risk of losing the roll dispenser key?)

A trio of Timbits are acquired for the journey back - a journey I oppose to undertaking on the basis of reduced visibility and fatigue. Old Fashion Plain is consistent with my recollection: lightly spiced and the sole Timbit exhibiting more flavour than sugar. Birthday Cake is superior to the likes of Justin Bieber's excessively decorated Birthday Cake Waffle, serving as the ideal occasion-specific treat.

We make a brief stopover in Downtown Oakville, where I had proposed takeout of Greek Paella from Colossus.

Sundays offer exemption from street parking fees. A shaded spot is found on Robinson Street. We then waltz over to place our order.

Beneath the beautifully decorated taverna is a Greek market by the name of Farma, which retailed a variety of specialty ingredients (orzo, cheeses, etc.) and prepared food items. To the restaurant's west is a Kibo location offering its popular $5 Cash & Carry deal.

After locking eyes with a gold gorilla (and copying his pose), we proceed eastward to check out Pilot Coffee's first foray into the GTA.

A variety of merchandise stocked the shelves, ranging from signature roasts to monogrammed accessories. We opt out of drink and snack purchases, for its diminishing array of little interest to us. Furthermore, the customers before us were far too tardy in their actions for schedule accommodation.

I head to COBS Bread instead to redeem my complimentary Cinnamon Bun.

It comes a bit dry, but nonetheless appealing with a generous swirl of cream cheese frosting on its surface.

Returning home, I unveil my requested birthday cake. It is none other than our household's prized Leen Go (年糕).

​Remarkable in all regards, repetitive iterations is something I fear not. There is intense glee in requesting the cake and having it materialize before my eyes in mid-July, a time where Chinese New Year treats are impossible to find in the market. Though, the homemade version triumphs over any storebought edition anyway.

Another of my requests was Cantonese-style steamed fish. Despite having heard of its relatively simple cooking method, bringing oil to its smoking point before pouring over the fish commands bravery. This year's had ample shredded scallion, plenty of oil, and not a lot of soy sauce. I ended up adding a bit more to my own plate before consumption.

​The Greek Paella supplemented our supper, contributing a sense of herby heartiness and chewy bits of seafood and sausage. Its flavours clashed with the steamed white rice, choy sum, and steamed fish we had piled into our ceramic bowls, thus separate dishes were summoned to separate their individual profiles.

Towards the end of the meal, I retrieved a newly purchased bottle of Mio Sparkling Sake. While I cannot proclaim myself a sake specialist - there is, really, not a lot of fondness for its purest form (819) - this carbonated specimen was bubbly, lightly sweetened, and refreshing. It paired well alongside seafood, aiding in digestion and elevating the overall experience.

A gorgeous vintage sake flask and cup set (dating back ot the 90s!) was used to commemorate the occasion.