Out & About #881 | Pound Cake Again, Toro Toro + Ube Crinkle (Round 3)

"Why don't you - ?"
"Why can't you - ?"
"Why not try?"

Prevailing clear as day over the last three weeks, I can testify that doing your personal best doesn't necessarily yield the desired outcome. The feelings of inadequacy have returned, jointly with a flood of neck-tensing, headache-inducing tensions.

In a society comprising of countless personalities, strenghts, and weaknesses, diversity is common, as are decision-making mechanisms. If opting for an alternate route was as equally easy to all, then our thought process would default to the same path, thus generating identical results.

Instead of forcibly coercing the actions of another, I struggle to see why most don't seek to understand and change their own strategy(ies) for interpersonal interactions. Whether we are result- or process-oriented, or have entirely dissimilar objectives, there are ways of meeting such goals with extreme compromise of the other. For once that compromise exceeds a given threshold, it is no longer a compromise, but an endless sacrifice for superficial harmony.

​Majority of my week is spent indoors, mostly tending to the chaos of others. Be it in the workplace or day-to-day life, my resourcefulness, organization aptitudes, and problem-solving skills are constantly being tested.

Beer provides some degree of solace from the seemingly endless challenges of life, as do freshly brewed coffee (for the AM periods), ice cream (for the PM), and Sulley socks (for all times of the day). Waterloo Brewing's latest Juicy Hazy IPA and Guava Lime Radler are zesty and easy on the palate - ideal drinks for the spring-summer transition - which, realistically, may not come till mid-May.

​Functional additions also bring about joy. A sturdy 16 oz. beer glass with neatly rimmed edges served me well in both alcoholic and non-alcoholic pursuits. Thai tea is great on its own, but even better in a crossover with coffee. (That said, the canned rendition from Taiwan was too milky and sugary on its own.)

Sunday Baking's Condensed Milk Pound Cake was constructed again, for there is comfort in reliability. Due to concerns over non-uniform consistency, I attempted this iteration using a hand mixer. Though I would have preferred the depth of the stand mixer to prevent flying flour particles, I appreciated that the batter was a one-bowl undertaking, thus reducing the number of dishes.

​Scraping the bowl is not an optional step, I learned, regardless of mixer choice. Throughout the creaming process, I passed a flat spatula along the inside of the bowl to incorporate any unlatched specks of butter, then again when blending the flour. Surely enough, this dedication presented itself in the final product: a tender,  golden yellow crumb with a homogenous cross-section.
The recipe calls for a baking time of forty minutes, but this is purely a minimum. The previous two attempts had seen baking times of 45-50 minutes for a clean toothpick, thus I set the timer for forty, and checked back between the forty-two to forty-five range.

​All was progressing smoothly, until the glazing step that is. Distractions in the kitchen led to overlooking scaling needs, and 35 g of oil was utilized for 76% of the specified 250 g of white chocolate. The mishap hadn't been immediately obvious to me; I began to combine earl grey granules into the oil until smooth, then fold the mixture into the melted white chocolate. Its consistency was thinner than I recalled, though my rationale was the warmer, pouring temperature. Perhaps I should realized the blunder when the coating didn't set as rapidly, but it took two pours (and plenty of excess glaze) to make sense of its fluidity.

​The cake resided for 2.5 hours in the fridge, until the glaze had hardened completely, exhibiting white grease swirls on its matte surface. Increasing the amount of liquid fat had resulted in greater malleability and reduced structural integrity: beyond being less resistant to handling, the glaze exhibited cracking under minimal stress. Furthermore, its edges were unmistakably softer, removing the crisp-crunchy factor from the consumption equation.

​Nonetheless, the cake was delicious, albeit imperfect.

​My carpooling partner succumbed to the standard array of symptoms circulating as of late, leading me fend for myself amidst 401 chaos. I probably owed some gratification towards March Break for appeasing what could have been a grueling commute into the city. Door-to-door, my entire journey lasted just 49 minutes, inclusive of TTC!

​Sleepiness seeped through a morning of serenity, which, in the absence of emails, saw the formation of action plans and ingestion of two sugary Timbits - better not off not being consumed, frankly.

​Residual tenderness in the muscles hindered a thorough lunchtime exploration. So, rather than roaming rapidly, I probed with purpose.

Dollarama is a longstanding source of affordable décor and household items. Situated just north of the still-repulsive Yonge-Eg intersection is an outpost offering seasonal items at a non-accessible basement level and the regular roster of items at ground level.

​Directly across from this location was another Dollarama sign, with large, bold letters reading "Now Open". However, the unit appeared utterly vacant from afar. After a brief Shoppers trip, I trekked over to the west side of the street.

A quick detour was made at Stock T.C., where individual madeleines were spotted at a measly loonie (a shocking variance from Isle of Coffee) and "Parisian Flan" at a reasonable $4.50.

​Then, lo and behold, I reached the second Dollarama of the intersection. Sizable and pristine, the new outpost was situated on the basement floor of a condo building. Three short flights of concrete stairs led me to its entrance. The nearby elevator offered an accessible route, though I opted for my first taste of the CN Tower Climb by descending, and later ascending, down its steep steps. Needless to say, my legs were fatigued within seconds, given that I had yet to recover from previous exercise sessions.

​Having perused the Easter assortment sufficiently, I took to the store's admittedly expansive electronics section, locating a microUSB to USB cable of decent length. Since the takeover of USB Type C devices, the cable variety has been less commonplace. Glad I was to have found a compatible connection piece for my underused Blue Yeti.

​​Juicy Dumpling and DNDN were the respective last stops of my lunch run.

Two findings resulted from my visit to Midtown's one-and-only budget XLB spot:

1. Frozen variations of their menu items were not sold
2. Sticky Rice Balls Stuffed with Black Sesame in Sweet Rice Wine Soup was the slowest item on the menu, totalling a prep time of ten minutes

​
Resolving to sampling the dessert on a future visit, I crossed the street to DNDN, a fumey "half unit" selling overpriced onigiri, strawberry milk, and Korean banchan by the container.

The late afternoon, thankfully, saw an equally smooth commute back. Rushing into a condensed pilates session around the 5:30 PM mark, I was able to achieve (part of) the day's exercise goal and ready myself for dinner around 6:10 PM.

Given the disappointment and grease-laced frustrations derived from the weekend's failed Toro Toro attempt, I proposed a weeknight attempt instead. A takeout order for the Tasting Box for Two was placed as soon as the eatery opened; the sleepy polar bear would then be assigned pickup duties.

​I strode into a kitchen of chaos: blanched spinach on the stovetop and a black bag on the table - and random papers, club size sanitizer bottle, and mirror stand beside it. We would be able to utilize up to half the table for photo-taking and consumption.
The Tasting Box was presented in a sleek black bag bearing fabric handles and a shimmery circular emblem - the restaurant's dual fish logo.

​Unveiling the box gave way to tremendous excitement: oohs and aahs of admiration from my end and uncultured urgency from the other. I was appreciative of the red Rising Sun-esque sticker sealing the premium package, though none too fond of the greasy fingerprint marks on the box, nor the lidless presentation of wasabi and ginger.

At this point, I withdrew the two beverages I can opted to pair with the selection: Mio Sparkling Sake and Laker Lager from the Waterloo Brewing Beer Store. The former went unappreciated by the sleepy polar bear, who half-jokingly professed tipsiness with a mere sip. Rolling my eyes in response, I wasn't sure if I ought be more critical of the uncouth, rapacious behaviour or ceaselessly child-like palate.

​I was served my spinach, then, slowly but surely, the highly anticipated meal commenced. Tearing open the utensil pouches revealed wooden chopsticks and a black plastic spoon, which later proved helpful in transporting crumbly oshizushi and scooping sauce.

​The Salmon Sashimi rose centrepiece was splendid: marbled with fat and fleshiness, it served as an appetizing gateway for the rest of the assortment.
I took to a gold-specked Aburi nigiri first, but was dismayed to find the fish thin, rigid, and perforated at its folds. "It tastes like ham" came the comment across the table. The Salmon Aburi, in comparison, tasted much more like fish though was too sauce for my liking.

In general, most of the Tasting Box was too saucy. Despite boasting an incredible level of intricacy and variety, there are few elements that rendered it memorable. Maki rolls were compact, yet seasoning and toppings were excessive. The tempura- and tenkasu-containing summer roll was an innovative fusion of fresh rolls and shrimp tempura, for it paired romaine, spicy mayo, and tenkasu in an imaginative combination. That said, the summer rolls lacked dimension without its sweet mayo dipping sauce.

The Salmon Tartare Taco was another noteworthy inclusion, but terribly difficult to eat. The deep fried taco shell reeked of oil, for one, and shattered under minimal pressure. Adorning its surface were a few thin rings of scallion - the pungent, slimy-smelling kind, unlike the soaked variation used in negitoro rolls.

While the bite-sized pieces were presented beautifully - with textural and colour contrast to boot - they simply did not deliver in terms of depth of flavour. A black sesame-topped, mango-containing maki was the runner after the sashimi rose, yet not entirely harmonious in its composition. (But, of course, beer makes everything. Lager pairs with just about anything, after all.)

My biggest gripe was being unable to taste the quality of Toro Toro's offerings, for the condiments had utterly camouflauged the sashimi. We declared the Tasting Box a novelty item, worthy of a first try but undeserving of successful sampling. Fifty dollars would have been justifiable for me; the sleepy polar bear advocated sixty, as it would equate to thirty per person before tax.

I looked forward to the end of the week, for I had finally managed a RMT massage appointment on Friday afternoon. Kaizen was cancelled for Golden Square's BYT Beauty & Health Centre, for beyond being cheaper than the franchise, it was also closer to home in distance and travel time.

Located at the southernmost part of the Golden Square plaza, just around the corner from Arirang, I was quite surprised to have never chanced across the establishment before. Parking spots were limited before the entrance, but could easily be secured within a 30 m radius.
​As medical history and first-time client forms were to be filled on site, I arrived fifteen early to facilitate this process. Insurance details were also provided for direct billing. Having assumed the clinic to operate entirely on a physical basis, I was surprised to learn of an online account being created for me after my first visit. Moreover, email notifications were also received after form completion. Most clinics these days have shifted to online forms and registration (due to COVID and ease of automation), though I assume in-person processes are mandated to prevent mistakes over the phone. The staff are capable of speaking English, though Chinese (Mandarin or Cantonese) is the undeniable preference.

​With five minutes until my slated appointment time, I was guided down a corridor to one of my many massage/skincare treatment rooms, passing by a middle-aged man in the janitor's closet. The bathroom was conveniently located adjacent, so I headed over after quickly scanning the room.

Reviews on the web had spoken of a clean environment, but the bathroom before me hardly fit that description. Hair by the sink and in clusters on the stall floors, I was appalled from the getgo. Instead of a proper dispenser was a minimalist hook for the toilet paper roll, and instead of sanitary napkin disposal bins was a small wastebin lined with plastic bags in each stall. The facilities were filthy, evoking the atmosphere associated with a casual Chinese diner, only slightly better than a cha chaan teng or yumcha spot. It was probably on par with the damp, eerie bathroom essence of Summit Garden (195), albeit less immaculate with wider stalls.

​I re-entered the room at 4:30 PM, the time of my appontment, but the masseuse was nowhere in sight. Gazing left and right, not a soul passed through the hallway. While waiting antsily, a horrendous sequence of coughs could be heard from within the bathroom. They were audibly aggravated, and a sense of forebearing overcame me: "I hope that's not who I'll be trapped in a room with for one hour." I thought to myself.

Of course, the omen came true. Without any introductions, she gestured for me to lie on the bed with a tatooed hand. As she was about to exit the room, I quickly voiced items of note: my own baby oil for the treatment, the open wound on my elbow, and areas requiring attention. She nodded, her facial expressions obscured by a blue mask bearing a single brown spot, then strode out once more.

​We commenced with a relaxing scalp massage, only to be rudely interrupted by another ghastly coughing fit. She returned about two minutes later, apologizing for the shocking disturbance and assuring me that the hacking was a consequence of dry air and allergies and "not COVID". Treatment time was extended due to the interruption, much to my relief.

She worked along the areas of extreme tightness with diligence, applying steady pressure while smoothing out the knots and maintaining in place where necessary. The primary focus was on the neck, shoulders, and back, with work on the arms and legs being limited but extremely effective.

Verbal exchange was minimal, with the exceptions of asking about pressure, preference for a hot towel post treatment, and temperature acceptability of said hot towel. Until I asked, she did not utter her name, nor did she ask for mine. Her English was a version laced with a heavy Mandarin accent, to the point where uncertainty arose, but were easily resolved with follow-up confirmations. That said, my masseuse was more than capable in tending to my fascial woes, and experience seemed to naturally guide her in the correct direction.

​Overall, the massage experience was quite enjoyable. Although the massage room was arguably less sophisticated (and less zen) than the typical spa, it was nonetheless relaxing with soft music and heated blankets. An orange patent leather chair could be used to place one belongings, while four hooks on the back of the door (one hook with hair attached - Ew) served to hold jackets. Most importantly, the treatment had alleviated pain in the areas I needed most.
Upon checkout, complimentary ginseng tea was provided at the front desk.

BYT operates as a co-ed facility, meaning that it isn't uncommon for male staff to be present in the hallways or janitor closet in the corridor. The thundering clearing of phlegm was overheard not once, but twice, over the course of my treatment, presumably originating from the man traversing in and out of the janitor room.

​A supper of congee from Yin Ji Chang Fen maximized my limited time UberEats promo, such that sustenance would appear with the conclusion of a much-deserved shower.

The third (and potentially final) iteration of Ube Crinkle Cookies was aimed to clear the freezer of remaining ube jam. Half of the blobs had been constructed with a lilac-hued, coconut milk-infused sweet potato paste, while the other half a very saturated Hawaiian purple sweet potato puree. The two, unexpectedly, provided the best of both worlds, ensuring ube's signature violet tone while maintaining subtle notes of coconut. A generous drizzle of ube extract assisted in accentuating aromatic attributes.

Instead of the specified 196 g of sugar, I took to 150 g, for my recollections confirmed the full amount to be sickeningly sweet. To comprehensively deplete freezer rations, I upped the amount of ube jam, then increased the flour quantity from 223 g to 250 g in compensation of excess liquid. The dough was then allowed to chill for roughly 80 minutes. The final steps entailed portioning with a medium cookie scoop, rolling once in granulated sugar (for adhesion), and coating generously with icing sugar.

​Admittedly, this batch was my best out of all three attempts. Flavourful and vibrant, crisp yet pillowy - these constituted the last ube crinkle cookie recipe I ever needed.

​It was with mild regret that I remembered the variability of ube-based concoctions due to their substantial reliance on sweet potato quality. Not withstanding this observation, I was ecstatic with the turnout (and selfishly considered withholding more pieces than I intended at the offset of dough formulation).

Adapted from Hummingbird High, a brief recipe is as follows:

​Ingredients

150 g granulated sugar
113 g unsalted butter, softened
1 egg
185 g ube jam, at room temperature *sweet potato soaked, softened, and pureed with sweetener + coconut milk
1-2 tsp ube extract *as desired
1 tsp vanilla extract
250 g all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
pinch of salt
​
granulated sugar (as needed for coating)
icing sugar (as needed for coating)

Directions​:

1) Cream softened butter and sugar until fluffy.
2) Add in egg. Mix well. (Note: Separation is possible at this stage due to temperature differences between egg and butter, but are no longer visible once dry ingredients are incorporated.)
3) Add ube jam, ube extract, vanilla extract, and salt. Mix to combine.
4) Fold in flour and baking soda. Cover and refigerate for 1-2h.
5) Preheat oven to 350 F. Prepare granulated sugar and icing sugar in separate bowls for rolling.
6) Using a medium (1.5 tbsp) cookie scoop, portion out the dough as evenly as possible. (In the absence of a cookie scoop, use a large soup spoon for scooping and a scale for checking mass uniformity.) Shape into spheres, then roll in granulated sugar loosely. Next, coat generously in icing sugar and place on baking tray. Cookies should be placed 1.5 to 2.0 inches apart for best results; avoid placing them close together as air circulation is pivotal for adequate rise.
7) Bake for 12-14 minutes, until the tops are soft but no longer foamy. Let cool completely for 10-15 mins, then transfer to a wire rack.
8) Let cool completely. Enjoy!