Out & About #863 | Uptown Yonge, Carpooling + Genmaicha Mousse Cake

One of the most despicable acts to witness is that of someone failing to accomplish a task despite being given comprehensive direction, adequate resources (and sources for additional resources), and sufficient time for execution. The absence of independence startles me, while the absence of critical thinking frustrates me. These statements could, very well, be targeted towards a certain someone, but also extends to those in our immediate surroundings - colleagues and friends, for example.

But while there are countless dysfunctional, incompetent airheads roaming our planet, hidden amongst the substance-less masses are a handful of outliers. These are outliers that may or may share a common viewpoint of the world, yet never fail to live up to a specific compartment of society's standard of pragmatism. These are outliers that I appreciate in my life: Their varied insights incites new ways of surveying problems, and their strengths compensate for my shortcomings.

​As someone who has accumulated both incredible mileage and an extensive mental geographic database, it may come as a surprise that I, in fact, despise driving. I'd opt out of it if public transit routes were satisfactory for my needs, but they're not - at least not at this time of writing.
When the concept of carpooling crossed my mind, I was eager to propose it to my potential co-commuter. It was received with some hesitation at first, but we discussed quickly to narrow down plausible logistics.

​The first day was met with success. Not only did I arrive earlier than if I had driven solo, I was liberated from the pressure of staying awake behind the wheel.

​Moreover, I was granted the opportunity to obtain breakfast.
Slipping by the party of eco bag-carrying street civilians, into the only McDonald's in the two-kilometre radius, a Cranberry Orange Muffin was secured.

​Lunchtime marked the proposed delivery for the Thai ahgase's Holiday Cookie Box. She would be the last donator to receive her share, namely due to the fact that our sole chance of crossover would be in the city.

​Upon completion of the mission, I speedily trekked northbound to maximize the remainder of my mid-day respite. Elaborate lattes from the Himalayan Coffee House had been on my mind, but the distinctly above-seasonal temperatures deterred me from the hot drink purchase.

​By the time I realized I had passed the establishment, the desire had receded. Continuing to march along the east side of the street, my surroundings evolved to emit a primarily residential aura.

​Without much else of interest in the area, I turned into Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens, a quaint park with rustic cobblestone steps (albeit uneven ones).

​The trail would lead southeast, towards Blythwood Ravine Park. Many dogwalkers were spotted amongst the sodden soils and barren trees.

​Nearing Mt Pleasant Road, it would dawn upon me that the intersection featured an overpass and did not connect at all. I was reluctant to continue onwards, for I'd be venturing further and further from my place of occupation. Thankfully, a narrow dirt trail had been made for such situations, and I climbed up towards the northeast corner of Mt Pleasant and Blythwood.

​I had the option of continuing west on Blythwood then retracing my steps along Yonge, but took to the calmer, single driveway neighbourhood on Mt Pleasant instead.

​Eventually, I made it back to Eglinton, where a PDO resided on site for asphalt road paving. The cycle tracks on the south side had been paved, interlock completed, and tactile plates installed.

​In the late afternoon, I began to ponder the possibility of Palgong. A distinct yearning for their Mint Chocolate Smoothie had crept up steadily without ever diminishing over the course of the day.

​The stars seemed to align when my carpooling partner informed an unexpected lateness. I jumped at the opportunity and hopped on Line 1 towards Finch.

Placing the order via Ritual ensured a swift pickup process. I darted through North American Centre, where Timothy's had been replaced by Brioche Dorée, dashed in and out of the bubble tea franchise, then retreated back onto the subway. This detour spanned forty minutes, leading me to repetitive apologies towards my carpooling partner. I received only understanding and no enmity whatsoever - a result that would never play out had the roles been reversed.

The next morning would see the same fate, with the exception that I'd be punctual (for once!) - groggy, but punctual nonetheless.

Google Maps informed us of a forty-minute commute - a record-breaking low given the 401's track record. We ended up being early, which was even more shocking than the travel prediction. Around 7:30 AM (!!!), I boarded the subway towards Eglinton station.​

​My re-entry onto ground level was made around the 7:45 AM mark, at which point I crossed towards the southeast end, lugging my laptop with me. Tim Hortons - the only one of three at the intersection that supported in-app orders, would serve to provide a Chocolate Chip Muffin for my morning munching.

​Concentrated on the surface were mini chocolate chips. The gooey pockets cascaded down through the cross-section, though saw a lower count as I eased towards the base. More common is the reverse scenario, where toppings are submerged within the batter due to density differences. It can be concluded from this observation that the mini chocolate chips were lighter than the batter, despite its utilization of oil. Though not particularly noticeable, I perceived Tim's edition to be comparatively less moist than McDonald's.

​Thighs and calves sore from the previous day's zealousness (and the combined impacts of intense barre routines), lunch explorations would proceed at a leisurely place.

Frequent stops would be made for the browsing of merchandise that I'd lovingly graze, yet never buy. Amongst the items piquing my curiosity were furry holiday plushes; of course, any Indigo detour as of late would entail a visit to Mr. Buttons.

​Mr. Buttons and Mr. Tophat resided on the top shelf of their display, gazing down at me with smiles shielded in supple, white fuzz. The Yonge-Eglinton location boasted four units of each, while the Square One outpost possessed a greater ratio of Mr. Tophat - and a singular Mr. Buttons!

​The chillier temperatures, and my overall foggy state of mind, were fitting for a latte run. Into Himalayan Coffee House I went.
The interior was packed and reeked of grease, despite typically oily foods not having a place on the menu.
Within the display case was a limited selection of baked goods - items exhibiting lifeless, day-old appearances. Gazing at the menu above the drink preparation counter, I attempted to locate a beverage to suit my mood; there wasn't one. The café's signature latte art was reserved for dine-in visits only, and the steep price of points of Blue Matcha, Hojicha, and the standard array of espresso-based beverages simply couldn't be justified.

​Having found myself at the intersection of Yonge and Blythwood, I could have easily continued east along the minor road for connectivity of my mind map. Though, I opted for the lower intensity alternative.

​The two-level Sporting Life at the southeast corner of the intersection was browsed instead. Unassuming in its presence, I must admit surprise to the automatic double sliding doors, sight of security guards hovering about the lobby, and remarkable expanse of the establishment. On the ground floor were shoes, sports accessories, men and women's jackets and activewear, and even a repair shop. At the top floor were children's clothing and pricier fashion apparel from which a vague link to athleticism could be constructed.

​My footsteps began slowly traversing southbound, along the east side of Yonge.

Lured by its vivid orange storefront, I popped into Nu Bagel. Single bagels were a hefty two dollars each, while those with spreads even higher. Discounts did not apply to purchases of twelve bagels or less, for a half-dozen rang in at the linearly proportional rate of $12. A dozen bagels would set me back $18, and would include a freezer bag and two additional bonus bagels. The shop's variety was quite scarce though, so I merely took to three singles (Rosemary, Coconut, and Multigrain) and a Pumpernickel with Dill Cream Cheese to go.

​Having half the bagel toasted and slathered was an option, yet not one that necessarily entailed a lower price point. Despite full knowledge of my post-lunch stomach capacity, I agreed to have the full bagel anyway.
Upon unveiling the $6.50 purchase later, I found Dill Cream Cheese to ooze from every corner - a ridiculously generous amount had been spread between the two charcoal-toned rounds. It was a delightfully herby formula, however too rich and too satiating for my needs. Following its consumption, my stomach was rendered queasy for the remainder of the day.

​The Singles were taken home for incorporation into breakfasts of the upcoming days. Coconut, once toasted, was a dense yet delightfully aromatic bite of breadiness. Its faint undertones of sweetness paired splendidly with tart strawberry jam. Rosemary was another exceptional pick, for its distinctive fragrance was also unleashed upon contact with heat. This variation leaned towards the savoury side of the spectrum, and was best enjoyed with a thin layer of margarine to showcase its innovative profile. Of course, cheese- and garlic-based spreads would have also elevated complexity. Multigrain was, as expected, craggy and brimming with various types of seeds. Although a typical bakery offering, the thorough coating of toppings (both sides!) was appreciated.

Prior to departing the area, I took to De Mello Palheta once more, this time taking to a 12 oz. latte as a mid-day pick-me-up.

Smooth, robust, and palatable, the cup's contents were enjoyed thoroughly. That said, the $6 expenditure warrants evaluation before future investment.

​My carpooling partner left twenty minutes later than expected, leaving me to hover about the York Mills parking lot for some time.

In spite of the chilly, desolate conditions and overwhelming weight of the ancient work laptop, I wasn't angered. The witty, contemplative exchange made for a pleasant return trip. Enough stimulation had been secured to complete a half session of pilates before wrapping up the day.

​Concluding a week of fast food breakfasts and iron-rich packed lunches was a supper of homemade sticky rice with lap cheong and roasted peanuts.

Devoid of cookies for munching, I set out to construct Sunday Baking's Pecan Shortbread, then utilized the leftover egg yolk for SK's perfect Molasses Cookies.

​The dough's high fat content (butter and thorough dispersion of nuts) was offset by a protein-based binder: a lone egg white. This combination yielded an impossibly sticky formula, one impossible to roll out even after days of freezing. I settled for a thick log with tapered ends and non-uniform diameter.

​But baking at the low temperature of 320 F was insufficient for cookies of such size. While the edges were crunchy, the core was tender - an inevitable turnout despite my delayed attempts at raising the oven temperature to 340 F.

After uncovering more of my carpooling partner's gustatory preferences, I was inspired to create an item capable of evoking a comprehensive sense of gratification. Ginger and sesame were apparently out, as were the applications of mint and peppermint in specific regards, but matcha was promised a winner in "all forms and textures".

Amusingly enough, I would not be employing matcha in this project. The components were varied and my last jar of matcha had expired. Instead, I ripped open my new bag of Paragon Genmaicha, acquired from my Vancouver travels earlier this year.

A direct substitution of genmaicha for matcha was made in Sunday Baking's Green Tea Mousse Cake recipe.
Instead of one 12 cm diameter cake, I used a smaller ring mold, allowing me to achieve a total of six sponge rounds. Undeniable is the significance in removing sheet cakes from their parchment backing once chilled. From prior experiences, cake sheets that are left to cool while affixed to their parchment backing emerge friable and crumbly - in other words, tragic for use in layered cakes.

​In place of an unstabilized whipped cream frosting was a genmaicha ganache. Originally constructed in a 1:1 ratio of Blancor and heavy cream (with a few knobs of butter to ensure a velvety finish), additional callets were added to improve its integrity. When just combined, the ganache runs over the top of the layers, pooling at the base of the cake. Setting it in the fridge for a few hours allows the texture to become pipe-able - not that I possess any skill in this department.

Genmaicha retains an unmistakable heartiness at its core, and is then supplemented with grassy and floral notes for a bittersweet yet balanced profile. The mini cake was as delicious as I had hoped! And even my carpooling partner agreed so.

Expanding into the realm of chocolate-making, Issho Bakery's holiday venture adopted the format of truffle boxes as opposed to a follow-up shortbread cookie box - and thank goodness! I think I've had my fill of crunchy cookies for the next little while.

The Holiday Chocolate Box consisted of six truffles, and was available in 6-piece, 12-piece, and 24-piece sets. The 12-piece box was ideally for sharing amongst two - a lightly boozy, post-dinner decadence.
​

• Mulled Wine was my first pick from the box: it was silky, and embodied the very essence of the Toronto Christmas Market in a truffle!
• Speculoos boasted an impressive potency - a complexity unlike any other seasonal treat I've tasted bearing the spice-laced description.
  
• Peppermint Oreo was pleasantly pepperminty, but too sweet in its white chocolate shell. Housemade Oreo cookie crumbles offered a nice textural component that was indeed reminiscent of the Hershey's Cookies 'N' Creme bar the creators had paid homage towards.
  

• Rum & Chestnut incorporated classic Christmas flavours into a bite-sized, cocoa-dusted sphere. Often are truffles rolled in cocoa powder soft to taste, but this one was encased a rigid dark chocolate shell, inducing an element of surprise. That said, the specimen found itself towards the middle of my ranking list - neither in the top nor the bottom.
• Rosemary Caramel was a fantastic combination of herbiness and sophistication; the aromatics were unlike that of roasted lamb chops, slotting itself in a distinct league of its own. The contrast of a dark chocolate shell and sweet caramel was fabulous.
• Coffee Baileys was quick to earn its title of a fan favourite, though the milkiness of this variation was not quite to my liking. Creamy as it was, the combination was too sugary, especially utilizing a milk chocolate shell.

The order was accompanied by a six-pack of Honey Butter Sablé, which evoked the same degree of contentment as Calbee's overpriced Honey Butter Chips, with the benefit of a snappy, buttery finish.