Out & About #874 | Taiwanese Pineapple Cakes + Playdium Brampton

In-office days are generally more entertaining than a work-from-home routine. However, the pandemic has taught me to appreciate stability in the mundane, as well as the bonus hours of sleep.

Instead of braving the pending snow storm, as my carpooling partner had opted to do, I rearranged my schedule to navigate into the city in the earlier half of the work week. Taken along for the ride was my standard breakfast fix of banana bread and iced coffee (cold brew this time); a generous wedge of Matcha Nian Gao joined the 9 AM party.

​A bustling office encouraged me to venture outside for the midday break.

Northwest of the intersection was Yonge-Eglinton Centre, where I steadily ascended to the second floor in search of Mr. Buttons (and Mr. Tophat). Both fuzzy snowmen had disappeared from the shelves, leaving only elves and Santas in their place.

As I maneuvered back to the ever-chaotic intersection, a rowdy homeless man was observed shouting - at nothing in particular - while glaring at the mass of pedestrians waiting to cross. He hovered about the southeast corner of Yonge/Eglinton, stepping into live, southbound traffic several times throughout the spectacle. He continued shouting as we collectively passed him by. I was hesitant to turn my back on him, yet ever more petrified to lock eyes. Resorting to sticking close to the girl before me, I rushed past the grimy presence with urgency in each step.

​The re-configured pedestrian access had shifted foot traffic closer to the centreline of the roadway, creating a wind tunnel where commuters would be pelted with precipitation.

Due to wind conditions, navigating any further than Belsize Drive would entail an unpleasant trek back. I looped back after confirming the status of Gong Cha's storefront ("Coming soon" it still reads.), avoiding the southeast corner altogether by routing up and down the stairs of the 2200 Yonge building that houses Merrithew's corporate training centre.

East of the intersection is The Social Blend, which remains utterly unaffected by the pedestrian walkway shift. From the monthly selection of rotating flavours, I pointed towards Black Sesame, Fenglisu, and Hotteok to take home. An Earl Grey Puff and Dulce Latte are also added to my order.

Unlike the last visit, the girl behind the cashier was neither as attentive nor amicable. Despite absence of a queue, she proceeded with my order in a hurried manner, sliding the Earl Grey Puff towards me between the POS tablet and brewing apparatus, then the remaining three macarons on the other side of the counter. Before I could request a bag for my purchases, she dashed away with looking back even once. Her gaze remained as far from me as possible, prompting me to withdraw my own plastic bag for carrying.

​While the Earl Grey Puff and Hotteok macaron were packaged individually, the Black Sesame and Fenglisu were sealed together. A box was not provided for separation and protection.

​The Dulce Latte was confirmed delicious: milky and only subtly sweet in spite of its sugar-coated name. The Earl Grey Puff, which was unveiled later that evening, harnessed a beautifully speckled interior within a flaky, once-crunchy casing. Dampness had seeped into the shroom-shaped structure, swapping flaky shards for tender layers that would deflate under pressure. That said, the specimen was well worth its four-dollar price point; it should merely be consumed as soon as possible.

This visit marked my second visit for TSB's Korean-style macarons, and will likely assume my last. Generally speaking, the shells are too soft and the buttercream far too satiating.
Black Sesame was incredulously tall, sandwiching layers of injeolmi and black sesame buttercream over a nutty brittle. Majority of the macaron's flavour originated from the honeyed sesame seeds, rather than the shell or filling. We likened the palette to my own Black Sesame Mousse Cake, expressing favouritism towards the latter.

Source: The Social Blend, January 2023

Fenglisu was the most anticipated creation out of the three. Stifling cravings of countless weeks, I had desperately hoped for this variation to appease pineapple-y desires. Unfortunately, the sole item of remarkability was the scanty squeeze of pineapple jam embedded within the buttercream swirl. Too dry and too sugar was the single slice of candied pineapple adorning its side. A thicker, crunchier shell and tartness would have improved overall complexity of the item.

​Hotteok was the unanimous favourite of the household. With exception of the greasy yakgwa topping, we found joy in its brown sugar-tinged buttercream and substantial shell. The traditional brown sugar-cinnamon syrup used to load hoddeok had found its way to the core of the creation, permeating just enough to permeate its peripheral with a cozy, nutty presence.

​The drive back was despicable, as predicted. Sunny, blue skies and a beautiful sunset gradient served to provide a splendid view along the way, though I would have very much preferred admiring the scenery without congestion and commuting pressures.

Meals of the week comprised of Stir-Fried Daikon and Preserved Meats and Steamed Pork with Scallions and Pickled Radish. The first dish was impossibly fragrant and beautifully enhanced with vibrant strips of sweet red bell pepper, while the second hearty and healthy, with crunchy bits of radish for textural contrast.

​The end of the work week marked a surge in engagement with the external world, given that the snowfall warning had finally terminated. Takeout was sought from The Owl of Minerva - now obnoxiously pricey, mind you - and Arirang. ​A side stir fry from Trithis supplemented the meal.

​The Owl's Dolsot-less Bibimbap and Bulgogi set us back a hefty $17.99 and $20.99 respectively. Included as part of the duo were bibimbap sauce, two containers of steamed, short-grain rice, and a container of heavily salted kimchi. Its hue was unmistakably darker than most, and its spice level unbearable.
I was quick to express appreciation for the perfect sunny side egg topping the bibimbap components. The Bulgogi, on the other hand, was tough and overcooked, despite adequate seasoning. Japchae noodles and flat rice cakes had also been included as part of the dish, both presenting themselves limp and overdone.

Arirang's Jjajangmyeon was comparatively economic at $13.99. Albeit tasty, there weren't any elements of remarkability. We enjoyed the jjajang sauce for being flavourful without excessive sodium, and chunky without onion overload. Slices of danmuji were scanty. The accompanying kimchi container was smaller but far more enjoyable: savoury and stimulating from the fermentation process, yet not so fiery to set one's mouth ablaze.

​My glasses frames, which have likely served me for as long as this space has been in operation, succumbed to the sorrowful detachment of one of its arms. Thankfully, I had a backup pair ready for such situations, considering that the issue had already arose in earlier years due to deterioration.
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That said, I'm not particularly fond of the larger, heavier frames. Beyond diffusing off a doltish aura, frequently do they require re-adjusting due to sliding down the nose.

For weeks - no, maybe months -, I have been scavenging for a satisfying morsel of Taiwanese Pineapple Cake, otherwise known as 鳳梨酥. While accessible, T&T's packaged portions were revolting. The Fenglisu macaron from The Social Blend didn't succeed in offering contentment either. Naturally, I took matters into my own hands. (After all, I had no intention to visit Taiwan any time soon.)

Countless recipes, either presented in written or video formats, were browsed and analyzed for commonalities. Majority of creators used fresh pineapple for the filling, with only one recipe taking to storebought pineapple jam. Constituents of the pastry dough ranged from: all-purpose flour, cake flour, 50/50 cake flour and bread flour, cornstarch, and milk powder. All formulas showed use of individual aluminum moulds, as they allowed for unidirectional gain of height, but confinement to a rectangular or elongated squoval shape. I desperately looked towards recreation without the specialty tool, but failed to find accounts displaying decent visual output. The Amazon prime order was placed not long after I concluded my findings: an absence of acceptable alternatives.

​Eventually, I narrowed down to one recipe, penning it out for convenience.
Early the next morning, I departed for Loblaws. Most of the ingredients used to construct the traditional treat were readily available, but one cannot construct a Pineapple Cake without the core ingredient of pineapple. Rather than taking to an off-season, unripe whole fruit, I headed straight for the frozen aisle. 2 bags of 600 g frozen pineapple were acquired; only one bag would be used to form the filling.​

The ingredients were compiled into my breadmaker, for the intent was to achieve a jam-like consistency. 90 minutes later, I cranked open the lid to reveal an aromatic but watery mixture with distinct, vibrant yellow strands. The jam had not darkened to the coppery orange tone of typical fenglisu.
I transferred the mixture to the stove, where coagulation attempts were made with the assistance of a cornstarch slurry. Results were akin to a pulpy rendition of our household's beloved Ham and Pineapple entrée). Without many options left, I sieved the mixture, allowing liquid to separate slowly under the pull of gravity.
In short, the filling is best commenced on the stovetop (no fancy tools), with sieving the mixture being a pivotal step in the process. As with all pastries containing fruit filling (pie, apple dumplings, etc.) - reducing the amount of liquid is important to ensure a flaky outer shell.

​The recipe was stated to yield 20 pineapple cakes. Each (unbaked) portion would weigh in at 30 g, comprising of 18 g pastry and 12 g filling. Given that I had utilized roughly 28% more pineapple, I scaled up the pastry quantities accordingly.

In a stand mixer, softened butter was aerated with granulated sugar until pale. Some recipes called for caster, while others confectioners. My presumption is that icing sugar would yield a more tender crumb, while caster more structure, thus offering a sense of substance. Instead of compensating with 1/3 of an egg yolk, I merely decided to include the white as well. Despite having reservations to beating a mixture after incorporation of a liquid (protein from egg white), I continued mixing at a low-medium speed until just combined. The dough grew quite sticky at this point, leading me to learn that a scraper is far more effective than a spatula in this application. As per directions, the dough was chilled a minimum of two hours; even after a total chill time of four hours, the dough remained surprisingly malleable.

​Then, the fillings were loosely loosely spooned to rounds, and the dough portioned out to 22 pieces.
Assembly was a challenge, for the filling would often burst at the seams, causing the maltose to harden on the mould after baking. I likened this issue to my same qualms of whole eggs in rollout cookies, which is often remedied by removal of the white.

The pineapple cakes emerged quite promising for a first attempt. With my inept wrapping skills, I had anticipated wonky turnouts, similar to the displaced fillings of my tangyuan trials. But the moulds had worked wonders to centre the filling and smooth out any uneven edges.

​Much to my relief, the pineapple jam had not dampened the pastry. An exuberant pulpiness was retained, likely the most obvious difference from the darker, denser centres of packaged variations. A coworker suggested the possibility of oxidation playing a factor, but I countered that pineapples are naturally acidic and rarely darken drastically even if left out for long periods of time. Reviewing other recipes, it appears that brown sugar is sometimes added to achieve the coppery brown colour.

​Eaten fresh, the pineapple cakes were outright delectable, but their complexity truly shone on the following day. The pastry was slightly softer than the previous day, but remained dry to touch and exceptionally tasty. The filling thickened slightly, shifting the focus from jammy threads to a harmonious sweet-tart congruity.
On the second day, however, the pastry shell was observed to have softened quite a bit. Likely a result of osmosis, excess moisture from the filling had penetrated the shell, causing cavities to emerge within. An unexpected positive side effect of this chemical reaction was a stronger buttery essence. 

​This Taiwanese Pineapple Cake project took far longer than anticipated and gave rise to a wealth of recipe notes. For future trials, if any, the following will be considered:

• Pineapple jam filling is best constructed on the stovetop. Additional equipment is not needed, as it is easiest/fastest to reduce moisture by stirring in an open system over variable heat.
• Sieving the mixture being a pivotal step in the process - keep moisture at bay!
• Fresh pineapples are not necessary; frozen can be used to save time, as they are equally fragrant. Blending is necessary to prevent lengthy threads of pulp.
• Dough was was malleable even after chilling for longer than needed. Malleability is often increased with egg white, which proved true here, but surprisingly did not soften too much at room temp.
• Milk powder was forgotten this time around; will add next time.
• Dough will be constructed solely with yolk next time, and possibly a hint of cream of tartar in hopes that it will have similar flakiness to our annual Christmas cookies.
• Baking temperature of 330 F is too low; pineapple cakes were distinctly pasty and pale in appearance. Cakes should be baked at 350 F, lowering temperature as needed to prevent browning too quickly.
  

​It is uncertain whether I have successfully curbed the craving for Taiwanese pineapple cakes. Though, I can definitely declare a newfound interest in perfecting the pastry. The ideal casing would adopt: a crunchy surface, flaky interior, faint crumbliness, and unmistakably buttery aura.

In true multitasker fashion, a Butternut Squash Soup was prepared simultaneously with Pineapple Cake prepwork.

​​When I returned home with frozen pineapple and kale, I knew that one bag would need to be swapped out of the freezer. The partially utilized bag of butternut squash I had picked up for Sunday Baking's Pumpkin Cream Cheese Muffin would finally be repurposed.
The remaining portion was defrosted in the microwave, then tossed in olive oil, salt, parsley, sage, cinnamon, nutmeg, and smoked paprika with two medium onions and two cloves of black garlic - a sweeter, milder variation of the pungent herb. The process of roasting unleashed aromas that would otherwise be concealed within layers of enzyme.

​Once fragrant and adequately charred, the vegetables were transferred to a pot. One 412 ml can of chicken broth was added, along with an equal amount of water. I roughly estimated 1/3 cup of heavy cream and included a splash of Shaoxing wine. Over medium to high heat, the pot's contents were brought to a gentle simmer. The heat was reduced to low before the cream started boiling. At this point, a hand blender was used to puree the solution, leaving behind a few chunks for texture's sake.

​A condensed recipe can be found below:

1. Toss squash, onions, and black garlic cloves (I used 2) in olive oil, salt, parsley, sage, cinnamon, nutmeg, and smoked paprika. Roast until fragrant.
2. Transfer to pot and add 1 can chicken stock, 1 can water.
3. Add heavy cream and a splash of Shaoxing wine. Let the mixture come to a simmer, then lower to med heat. Blend with hand blender, leaving a few chunks behind.
4. Serve with sprinkle of parsley and few more drops of cream, if desired.

​It is more appropriate to term the soup as a Butternut Squash and Black Garlic Soup, for both hue and fragrance are indicative of this combination. The colour emerged darker than the traditional butternut squash soup, as it had been tinted by bits of black garlic. On the surface were oil spots bearing a similar tone, looking slightly reminiscent to ramen with spots of black garlic oil.

The impromptu soup was a tremendous success, with the black garlic cloves contributing unfathomable depth to the cozy fall staple. We enjoyed this sparingly over the following days, unapologetically taking to ceramic Chinese spoons for ease of consumption.

With the sleepy polar bear's sudden succumb to ailment, long awaited plans to revisit Activate were postponed indefinitely. However, my curiosity towards Playdium remained. I set out to appease this thirst for knowledge, reluctantly confronting Brampton crowds in and out of the establishment.

​The drivers were chaotic, traffic levels atrocious, and parking lot brimming with young families. Within the games complex, about two to three birthday parties were taking place. Volume levels were reflective of the generally rowdy scene; young children froliced about the space, parents on their heels keeping watch.

​​We queued for a wristband purchase, which adopted an identical credit system to that of The Rec Room's - no surprise, both being Cineplex-owned facilities. Perhaps the sole difference was the two-hour Power Play option, which Square One's Playdium also offered. Credits loaded under this option would be restricted for non-redemption games, such as racing, simulation, and Pump It Up!

​I was surprised to find nearly all the typical ticket-based redemption games, in addition to a slew of chance-based ones. A number of stouter games was present, including Professor Coggins and three whack-a-mole stations. Seated and standing shooting games were also dispersed throughout the play area, though none fell within my region of interest.

Along with the standard roster of arcade games, this Playdium location also housed a spacious VR area and indoor treetop trekking course. Thirty minutes of exploration could be obtained in exchange for 50 credits. Naturally, it was smaller in scale and built entirely of plastic to suit its target demographic.

​I made a beeline for Pump It Up!, as expected. After witnessing a family of five try their footwork, I eagerly hopped on and scanned my player card. Soon did I discover the reason for its vacancy: the pads were slippery and disgustingly dull. They weren't sensitive at all!

​Attempting to try my hand at K-Pop Doubles, I was appalled to see the combo bar plummet into the red zone, then get kicked out halfway into the second round.

​With about 110 credits remaining, I went about the area spending liberally, knowing that I wouldn't be returning for future Pump games. Even on the Grand Piano Keys, the system had maxed out the key count to 87 keys, meaning that even the top-ranked player wouldn't obtain more than 64 tickets in one round.

​I accumulated about 600 tickets, slightly short of the 1000 required for redemption of a Pokémon-themed plush.

​The next stop of the day was Gong Cha. Navigating to the outpost remained as easy as the previous time. Similarly, the decor had been retrofitted in response to current and upcoming holidays. Red pocket lanterns adorned the cashier area for Lunar New Year, while a heart speckled display resided by the wall in preparation for Valentine's Day.

​Behind the cashier was a new face. While seemingly pleasant, the new girl worked at a snail-like pace. Her uncertainty towards specific inquiries was evident, yet she answered with a faux sense of confidence. Swapping out tapioca pearls for coffee jelly in the 2J Brown Sugar Oolong Milk Tea had never entailed additional cost before, but her entry cost me eighty cents more.

​Size and sugar levels for the Mint Cookie Smoothie were relayed twice in a span of five minutes. It was handed to me sealed, prompting curiosity towards the "cookie element" of the beverage. Only upon raising my concern was the drink unsealed, topped with finely crushed cookie crumbs, and covered with a dome lid.

​Initially, I hadn't paid much attention to the sign pasted by the order pickup area. However, upon exiting, I was immediately reminded of the brittle nature of their straws.

The first snapped as I removed it from its casing. The second cracked at the lip with the gentlest of squeezes. The third failed to incorporate the cooking topping into the rest of the smoothie, cracking along its length until its the cylindrical vacuum power was lost.

​Angrily removing the straw, I dashed back into the establishment to grab several backups. Truthfully, the quantity of straws mattered not, for a poor design will remain a poor design in the same application and circumstances. At the very least, I had not departed the asphalt lot just yet, thus had the opportunity to acquire backup straws. Had I already driven off and entered the highway, the cracked, brittle straw would have not only presented an inconvenience, but an unforeseen hazard.

​I, with ochungg, have held numerous discussions regarding our nation's newly imposed enviro laws. Without a tested, readily available alternative to single-use plastics, the material ban originates from a place of good intention and horrible execution. As a consequence of this premature federal decision, businesses and consumers suffer - financially and physically.

Embracing a proactive approach, I turned to Amazon for a solution. Reusable Stainless steel straws had never been considered prior to this calamity. When faced with loss of functionality and enjoyment, drastic measures are to be taken.

​The straws arrived within twenty four hours. Suction forces are sufficient, but piercing capabilities are yet to be tested. Drivers ought take heed in the rigid straw tips when drinking on the go as to prevent collisions between Stainless steel and sensitive teeth.

Square One assumed the final destination.

A Toscana Pretzel from Mr. Pretzels acted as a weak substitute to the sold-out Ensanemada pop-up in The Food District. As economic as it was, the bready structure lacked dimension, sourcing its profile from synthetic flavour powders.

​After picking up new cables from Miniso, we headed over to Celebration Square. Ice carvings had ceased by this time, but we managed to catch the final hours of the Indoor Artisan Market within the Civic Centre.

​A lone ice sculpture was positioned between the array of food trucks and skating rink, illuminated by the main stage and spotlights that transitioned between yellow, cyan, and magenta.

​On this date of writing, the City of Mississauga mourns the passing of Hazel McCallion. Her 101 years of life are remembered with great fondness, evident in the 100 Years of Memories exhibit. She played a crucial role in developing and elevating the city to the urban/suburban status residents relish in today, persisting as a phenomenal presence in our lives as Mississauga residents throughout her years as Mayor and beyond.​

As residents of the City, let us hold our heads high with pride in her legacy, honouring Hazel McCallion's hurricane-like greatness and the community she created.