Out & About #877 | Smiles, Gym + Chocolate Ganache Mochi

"I'll be hermiting within for a month." I had declared upon returning from Calgary. "A month, if not more - whatever it takes to finish."

And while I've proven loyal to these words, my endurance is withering. Exhaustion perpetuates as I tirelessly sort through the expanse, simultaneously balancing matters demanding attention in the present. 

In the days following Valentine's, I munched on the remnants of my chocolate creations and smiley fries to assuage me till Friday.

​These crisp rounds with ketchup-gushing eyes were paired with kale (of course) and a bottle of Heineken into which I mixed a few glugs of Yuzu Choya, then immediately regretted.

​Ending the work week with yet another visit to the sleepy polar bear, I strode onto my driveway to find my vehicle entirely encased in ice from the previous night's freezing rain. Battling frigid fingertips, I succeeded in recovering some visibility, then made do with rolling down the windows for the rest.

​Upon my arrival, I was informed that Yum's Kitchen had delayed our order extravagantly, resulting in a forty-minute wait and, consequently, cold entrées and melted Halo Halo. The latter was less of an issue, for two hours in the freezer rendered it stable once more. Toppings of desiccated coconut, ube ice cream, various beans and jellies, and young coconut threads had not comprised aroma nor flavour despite the process.

However, the lukewarm status of the Beef Rib Pho and Steamed Baos was quite disappointing. Pho was a recent addition to the menu, intending to fill the void for those craving noodle soup instead of banh mi dipped in broth. Admittedy, their soup base offered less complexity that I Love Pho, but was also observed to contain lower fat and sodium levels overall. Noodles, cilantro, scallions, and red onion slivers were placed into a separate container for takeout orders; two large portions of beef rib were laid on top.

The meal was enjoyed with blanched spinach and beef top rib cooked according to the singly most efficient method by yours truly and finished with a packaged Lychee Cake drastically inferior to fresh Pineapple Cakes.

​I awoke early the next morning, albeit with reluctance. Arrangements had been made to maximize a friend's guest pass at Life Time before its expiry at the end of the month.​
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Contrary to information she had received from one member of staff, guests were not permitted to enter the facility without the member's physical presence. When I pried for additional details, the man behind the counter was quick to revealed his greenness. An older, curly-haired manager appeared, confirmed the weekend's pilates schedule with a single call, and provided information on possible next steps. Despite being called upon without warning, she offered helpful clarity, even offering a printed schedule of the pilates classes offered through the gym. For a one-time class pass without membership presence though, I'd be subjected to a day use fee of $50 and class-specific fee of $50. Naturally, I walked out, resolving to conduct errands before coming back with my member.

At 10:57 AM, I recalled McDonald's availability of Hash Browns before 11 AM, then speedily placed a mobile order and joined the Drive Thru lanes.

All was assumed fine, until I dropped the package off at home and realized I had been charged $17.53 for a Hot Cake Hash Brown Happy Meal with no Hash Browns. Grabbing the receipt, I angrily tucked into the cupholder while I rushed back to Life Time to meet my member. McDonald's would need to wait till after the class.

My Life Time experience could be summarized as one evoking rage and re-established contempt for corporate gyms in general.

From the moment I re-entered the space to sign my guest pass agreement, I was regarded with a look of exasperation and annoyance. The lady behind the counter rushed me to place my signature, even taking to rolling her eyes as I scanned the terms and conditions. Her badge read "Samantha, Concierge", and was likely the rudest concierge member with which I had the misfortune of crossing paths.
"Can I get a copy of this?" I asked, for it was common practice that all engaged parties of an agreement should retain a copy for their own records.
"No." She responded curtly, as if I had inquired something of extraordinary absurdity. "It's on the website."
Then, my eyes fell upon a clause within the agreement. "It says that the guest pass is good for three consecutive days?"
"It's only today." She replied, her head turned away.
"It says right here though." I pointed to the document before us.
She snatched the page from me roughly, then loudly declared "select locations! We are not one." before thrusting the page back.
Had I not already been late for my class, I would have continued to request evidence surrounding her claim. It was neither proven nor delivered with the courteous a paying or unpaying member ought be receiving. Moreover, the purpose of guest passes is to increase a business' customer reach; Samantha's flippant attitude and reluctance to execute her duties competently and respectfully would merely lead to the opposite result: an unsatisfied user, such as myself.

My friend hurriedly thanked her (for what?!), then ushered me towards the change rooms. Along the way, we passed a cafeteria, barber shop, spa, and climbing wall. The space was gargantuan. As its name had indicated, Life Time appeared to market themselves as a facility "for life" - a building offering various services to prevent customers from looking towards external sources for their needs.

After marveling at the depth of the change room, as well as the hot tub located inside, I was guided up to the third floor. Past the daycare centre, squash rooms, basketball court, and table tennis tables, I found Ringside.
The boxing-inspired class had already commenced. Setting down my crossbody hastily, I warily dove behind other class participants to obtain a jump rope, hand weights, and foam mat. The instructor had begun to shout out several warmup exercises, including jumping rope and punch "numbers". The "1234" shorthands were not entirely foreign to me, thanks to a thorough introduction to boxing dating back to three years ago and regular participation of Reps to the Rhythm's boxing cardio workouts.

​The class would progress through three timed circuits, each containing weight-loaded exercises intended to target the entire body. While the instructor would announce and demonstrate the constituents of each circuit prior to commencing, the exercise names were also listed on a whiteboard positioned at the front of the class, boot camp-style. Between each circuit were "resting" periods involving punch sequences. With one pound weights in each hand, the class would execute various combinations of crosses, hooks, and upper cuts. The odd numbers corresponded to the left hand, while even to the right. Unlike HUF, there was little mention of stance or foot placement. And, instead of drawing strength from the core, it was deemed acceptable to borrow (not facilitate) from a pivoting hind leg.

From the later planks to weighted lunges to burpees, not a single form reminder was extended. Incorrect alignment of the body while undergoing repetitive, high-impact movements is already a formula for injury, but this risk only heightens with the addition of five- or ten-pound weights. Modification options were barely mentioned, let alone encouraged. This rigorous format may serve to stimulate those lacking motivation to move, but quickly grows exclusive to those suffering injuries and weakness such as myself. Pushing participants to reach greater goals is a positive, but it is also crucial to remind the less experienced to be mindful of their capabilities. Lastly, quantifying and associating skipping rope counts as a measure of success was an aspect I was truly unfond of. Rather than focusing on the mind-body connection and conditioning for strength and mobility, numbers were used as qualifiers for improvement.
Needless to say, I was not fond of the class, nor the instructor's tone, which bore too great a resemblance to the PM that drove me to the edge of crisis.

Prior to departing the facility for good, I explored the equipment floor. Machines were plenty, but the scene was soul-less. I ventured past a series of punching bags and TRX equipment to peek into the pilates studio. To my utter surprise, the dimmed room housed a Cadillac, Reformer, Barrel, and even a trampoline tucked in the corner.

I returned home after a non-altercation with McDonald's, where the staff had issued a refund of six Hash Browns without any resistance whatsoever. That said, they had warned that refunds are not usually given after customers depart the store. Also confirmed was the timeframe for successful procurement of Hash Browns: 10:30 AM or earlier, as Hash Browns are swapped out of the fryer for Fries leading up to the 11 AM mark.

​​The remainder of my day was spent utterly unproductively: Lunch was eventually consumed at 2 PM, showering concluded at 3 PM, and laundry finished at 4 PM. By this point, I had tended to none of the activities I would normally have achieved - to a comprehensive degree too. In addition, I found myself experiencing a sense of hollowness: there was no longer pilates to look forward to.

Pondering this irritated emotion further, it dawned on me that the gym concept was not the way to go. In summary, it was relinquishing excessive funds to:

1. Get dressed, drive somewhere, fight for parking, then undergo the entire process again for a roundtrip commute, adding unnecessary downtime to my already chaotic day
2. Surrender rights to my own schedule, and to willingly have my time be at the mercy of their group fitness class schedule, as well as their service staff and instructor capabilities
3. Not exercising the muscles I need, at the pace I need: Ringside rendered my upper body lifeless for up to three days, interfering with my regular routine and restricting range of motion in dance and pilates. I had never felt so rigid in my life.
4. Use public facilities with variable functionality and cleanliness

Yet, the most frustrating part of it all: A gym member pays atrocious fees for this loss of functionality, loss of freedom, and, worst of all, loss of fundamental respect.

​The next morning, I downed my woes in syrup-smothered hotcakes and the fluffiness of my furry friends. It was time to regain productivity.

​Throughout the week, I fell back into my normal course of action: editing, work, and impromptu baking projects.

Chocolate Ganache Mochi

Chocolate Ganache Mochi emerged when my mind began to wander after refilling of my glutinous rice flour container and leftover, butter-contaminated couverture from the previous week's Lava Cake attempts.

​I delved into the first recipe to come into view: a Chocolate Mochi recipe utilizing metric measurements and straightforward directions. Admittedly, a part of me was dubious of the turnout, for mochi is often created through kneading and microwaving at short intervals. The acts of adding butter and microwaving in one extended burst then kneading was a foreign concept to me, though I adhered to the formula nonetheless.

​The mochi was amazingly easy to work with, and very, very forgiving. Wrapping these parcels was doable, even for me. Sixteen portions equated to minimal mochi and a mouthful of chocolate ganache - excessive for me and likely even more so for the average chocolate consumer. The ganache was observed to dry out to a solid clump over the next two days, leaving little to be desired. Smaller portions and more mochi would be recommended for future iterations.

​Midtown meanderings took place immediately after the Family Day long weekend, as to avoid any interaction with the pending snowstorm.

​My sunny but windy lunchtime walk led me south of the Yonge-Eglinton intersection, into LCBO and then COBS Bread.

​The global bakery chain is often the first to release Hot Cross Buns. Intrigued by their newest flavour of Apple Cinnamon, I took to a six-pack of four Traditional Fruit, one Cranberry Orange, and one Apple Cinnamon. The latter proved itself absolutely scrumptious, boasting the plushness of a brioche roll with the cozy essences of autumn. Cranberry Orange, on the other hand, is a variation I've invested in on several occasions and never enjoyed; the synthetic citrus notes are very much an acquired taste.

​A sudden lust for Mini Cupcakes from my childhood - specifically the ones from Akko Cake House - led me to walk along the path identical to Chocolate Ganache Mochi. But it is with immense regret that I report back: The first recipe that pops up is not always reputable.

Though promising in its appearance and aromas, these Chinese Egg Cakes were, by far, the worst mini cupcakes I had ever tasted. Dry, rubbery, and disappointing, they were not only not reflective of the nostalgic buttery, plush bite-sized delicacies I had craved, but entailed far more effort than the standard cupcake. Instead of attaining the ribbon stage via the hand mixer, I had lugged the stand mixer from its box, nearly injuring my wrist in the process. Alas, the mixture deflated as rapidly as vehicles exiting the highway.

This recipe was incredibly low in fat, evident in the mere 10 g of vegetable oil specified as well as the difficulty used to unmould them. Fine, uniform air bubbles had been achieved using the stand mixer, but minimal rise was witnessed in the finished product.

Vowing to never again stray from Sunday Baking (and instead modifying next time), I began to consider options to save the cupcakes. Taking to the french toast method, I prepared a lavender-infused egg custard comprising of two eggs and a generous sprinkling of lavender buds.

Baking for 375 F for 20 minutes yielded nothing more than burnt cupcake tops and even drier cupcakes in a repulsive steamed egg solution. The floral essences of lavender remained, but were mixed with a tad of char due to their surface-bound occupancy.

Chiffon Pound Cupcakes

Determined to start afresh, I took to Sunday Baking's Chiffon Pound Cake at my next opportunity. The loaf was converted to twelve mini cupcakes and two standard-sized ones, while the cream was piped on the surface instead of into a hollowed cake.

​Interestingly, the Chiffon Pound retained qualities of both cake types: it boasted airy interior but was still structured like a pound cake. There was minimal crumb fall, in spite of its overall tenderness. Pairing with fresh cream was absolutely necessary, for the cake wasn't terribly moist. Homemade strawberry jam was added into 70 g of sweetened whipped cream for a fresh, fruity twist.

Matcha-Genmaicha Mochi with Ruby Chocolate Ganache + Strawberry Jam

​With 83 g of fresh cream left in its carton and one day till expiry, I set out to craft one more creation before week's end. I turned to the Chocolate Ganache Mochi recipe once more, this time swapping out breakout-inciting cocoa powder for a matcha-genmaicha blend and semisweet chocolate for the remaining ruby couverture from cococo.

​Altering the recipe once more, I reduced the amount of ganache filling by portioning the mixture into the cavities of a glutinous rice ball container and small ice cube tray. Half of the filling would be ruby ganache, while the other half would be strawberry jam. The original intent had been to emphasize the fruitiness of the ruby couverture, as it tended to be excessively sweet and stripped of its bright, tangy properties when warmed. However, I'm glad to report back that its signature fruitiness is restored once chilled.

It is recommended that a silicon tray be used for portioning the filling, for hard plastic doesn't usually freeze and invert well.

​With these swaps undertaken, I found the overall profile more delectable, balanced, and appetizing. The reduction in chocolate and incorporation of jam makes more for improved textural contrast, while preventing the ganache from drying out in the fridge (due to the jam's moisture content). There is also more mochi for chewiness, though I'd suggest allocating 20 or 24 servings from the mochi recipe instead of the original sixteen. A mixture of cornstarch and genmaicha powder was used for dusting, for pure genmaicha was simply too bitter.

​Four of these scrumptious parcels were demolished by yours truly on the same day, five frozen for later consumption, and six stored in a plastic container in the fridge. A silica gel pack was enclosed within in an attempt to prevent the mochi from drying out and keep excess moisture at bay.

​Upon returning to work, I changed my wallpaper. Frankly, I ought to have made the move years ago (but better late than never right?).

​The sight of Larry's long lost cousin gracing every swap of windows brought a smile to my face - a rarity amidst the work week.

Injecting some degree of innovation into our weekly meal spread was a spectacular duo from Hiroi Sushi:

• H8. Sashimi, Sushi & Big California with all salmon for an extra toonie; and
• SR6. Unagi Dragon Roll

​As always, the popular takeout spot offered generous portions at an affordable price. Impeccable thick, fatty cuts of salmon sashimi were received in exchange for the two-dollar substitution fee.

Takeout from Arirang was also obtained in the latter part of the week, provoked by BamBam and his devouring of traditional Korean soups.

​The sleepy polar bear assisted with pickup duty, delivering our order of Kimchi Fried Rice, Jokbal, and KalbiTang shortly after 2 PM (I had woken late). Our package spanned four containers, one side of kimchi, one rice, and two condiments.

Eagerly awaiting its arrival, I excitedly placed one piece of Jokbal onto the romaine, then drizzled it with fishy sewoojeot and a small amount of what apeared to be beige ssamjang. One bite in and I would exclaim at its saltiness, and promptly push the condiments aside. The Kimchi Fried Rice had been made less spicy, as requested, and topped with a fried egg. Folded within were bits of chopped pork - a sincerely welcome addition in a world of overpriced fried rice dishes. The kimchi banchan was comparatively spicier, and notably less acidic than the last time an order was placed. ​Meanwhile, the bean sprouts were crunchy and delicious, neither excessively garlicy or watery.

​​The Jokbal, despite us taking to a Medium size, was an abundance of gelatinous, fleshy slices and phenomenal in value.

Flavourful was the KalbiTang; in its broth were traces of black pepper, but nothing like the extremes of Myungdong Kalguku. The glass noodles underneath were a bit soggy, thus hurried eaten within a ten-hour period to prevent swelling and disintegration the next day. As with Yum's Kitchen, the beef ribs were a tad tough, though meaty.
The soup dish was accompanied by a container of rice bearing a faint beige tint, appearing to be a hybrid of white short-grain and barley rice. On the first day, the grains were soft and easy to pick up; heat was needed to lessen their rigid on the following day.

​Let it also be known that cash payments entail a 5% discount.