Out & About #883 | Stomach Flu, Costco Gingerbread Cookies + LA Fitness First Impressions

As Monday loomed into view, the symptoms associated with stomach flu became undeniable. A queasy and pained stomach, bloating, chills, headache, lack of appetite, nausea, and irregular bowel movements all alluded to the condition. The exact cause was uncertain, though I looked towards the previous week's Toro Toro and immediately halted mindless consumption of rock-solid Haribo gummies.

​A soft snack was requested to fill my mid-day munching woes. It was met with a box of four black-sesame-filled mochi, sourced from the prepared food section rather than the import aisle on the account of being "preservative-free". At $1.62 apiece before tax though, my expectations were quite high.

The three-bite parcels were as light as feather, dusted ever so gently with a coating of subtly sweet rice flour. They emerged as distinctly Chinese-style creations, comprising of a rice flour-glutinous rice flour blend for both structure and elasticity. In contrast to Japanese mochi, this variation contained more filling (and a barely sweet one at that), were drier to the touch, and did not exhibit intensely chewy qualities.

​Meals of the week revolved about a scrumptious Salted Pork Congee (with ginger threads to combat nausea), blanched veggies, homemade Cha Siu, Steamed Pork and Tofu, and Stir Fried Daikon and Lap Cheong ​ - a diverse assortment of feel good fare.

Tylenol was ingested to ease headaches, while Sulley socks were donned for comfort and warmth. 

​As the final four of SK's delightful ginger molasses cookies were slid from freezer to toaster oven, I began to contemplate the next batch.

The recipe is straightforward, yet yields impressive results, regardless of the whether the ginger is caramelized. Utilizing a single egg yolk is but the only downside.

So, while I began to grind my fantastically blueberry-esque bag of Kilimbi from Rosso, I recalled the acquisition of Gingerbread Cookie Mix from Costco. ​The 1.5 kg bag had set me back just five dollars. Now, it would be time to validate this expense.

​The dough was constructed as per the package ingredients: 75 g (not ml) of softened unsalted butter would be worked into the dry mix, followed by 66 ml (an accidental increase from the directed 50 ml) of water. The mass would then be kneaded together, as if forming pie dough. Naturally, I ought to have followed the package directions, making either rollout gingerpeople or thin, crispy gingersnaps flattened with a "glass coated in sugar". But my mind trailed towards the loose bottom tart pan I had passed by en route to find the scale: "Why not make a gingerbread tart base?"

Rolling out the dough between a sheet of parchment and silicon baking mat (to prevent slippage!), I flipped the thick, copper slab into the tart pan and pressed it in firmly. Any overhang was removed and formed into small cookie balls, which were then palm-flattened and thoroughly tossed in granulated sugar. The tart shell was pricked with a fork and also sprinkled with a small amount of sugar. Both would be placed into a 350 F oven, the cookies for 15 minutes and the makeshift tart for much longer.

​It was with skepticism that I regarded the cookies. Baking for 15 minutes on the lower rack had rendered them solid, yet not particularly golden. The tray was transferred to the middle rack to continue baking for a few minutes, though its appearance varied minimally. It wasn't only later that I realized I had overbaked them, leading to tooth-shattering edges and a barely malleable centre.
The formula professed 50-55% of the desired properties from a Ginger Molasses cookie. The spice blend had nailed the homey essence of the holidays in one convenient package, along with caramel-like notes of brown sugar and molasses. That said, the results were dense, thin, and not pillowy whatsoever. Given that baking soda and citric acid had been included on the ingredient list, I expected more rise than a compact disc with mildly chew centre. While SK's recipe rings in at 100% satisfaction, and the seasonal McDonald's version at a solid 70%, these were far lower down the list. 

I had, in a similar fashion, overbaked the tart shell, but not to the point of extreme dryness. Its edges were solid, but the bottom-most parts were still moist, as evident in the colour difference. But a toothpick came back as clean as ever, convincing me to continue pursuit of the concept.

A creamy cheesecake filling was constructed using softened Philadelphia cream cheese, sweetened with vanilla bean and vanilla bean paste, and lightened with whipped cream. Three grams of gelatin offered stability. Ratios adhered to Sunday Baking's No-Bake Cheese Cake, as to prevent a watery mess in an already questionable shell. ​It was tasty and well-balanced, as expected.

​Roughly three hours later, I attempted to unsheathe the creation, only to find the tart unwilling to budge. The ordeal lasted over twenty minutes, with several tool swaps and cramping of the wrist witnessed a total of four times. Ultimately, a partially disintegrated slice was removed.

But it was dismal from the first bite. While the cheesecake filling was aromatic and indulgent, the tart shell was, admittedly, a total failure. Its edges were rigid and unyielding, while the base soggy, tough, and, essentially, stuck to the loose bottom plate. "Revolting" was the rightful term for it; doughy but mushy and spiced but bitter.

Lesson learned: Gingerbread cookie mixes should be used in their intended applications.

​The airy cheesecake filling was salvaged, scooped into a plastic container in the meantime while I pondered alternate uses. In the end, I settled for eating the formula as is or spreading on top of Maria biscuits for a simplified cheesecake experience.

​Banana Mochi was attempted using banana essence dating back to the early days of the pandemic, for newly acquited bananas had yet to ripen. The result was repulsive, with distinctly inadequate sweetness and an irrefutably synthetic aftertaste.

Towards the end of the week, I set out for errand-running. The timing would align with the hours of operation for majority of eateries in the area, including Yum's Kitchen. Naturally, with my appetite returning after several days of lifelessness, I ventured in, hoping for an opportunity to redeem the promised Halo Halo.

My endeavours were met with success, for the same lady who managed the restaurant's social media account happened to be working in store.
"It's been a while now." she commented on my supposedly overdue dessert claim.
"Yes, a few weeks now I think." I admitted. "Though we haven't been back since."
"It's okay." She responded under her breath while preparing the layered dessert.

​The dessert emerged within a matter of minutes, just as the sleepy polar bear had noted previously. It was my order of a Regular Vietnamese Coffee that extended the visit longer than required. A part-timer took to leisurely compiling my beverage, exhibiting snail-like tendencies every step of the way. From reading the recipe notes to placing ice into the cup, all was executed in an extremely unhurried manner.
Despite filling the cup below its rim, I dismissed the observation, as I was keen to exit the premises. I later discovered that he didn't even encase the drink properly, causing it to leak from the edges of the plastic seal.

An aromatic lunch of Trithis was obtained. Our go-to Garlic Pork Chop was, admittedly, drier than past visits, while the Beef Brisket Chow Mien and Oxtail Stew were merely average. The meal was concluded with spoonfuls of ube- and coconut-laced Halo Halo, then later the Vietnamese Coffee over more ice.

Regardless of melted, solid, or frozen, commentary towards the Halo Halo remained consistent: it was delicious, with ample toppings and a potent coconut-y presence. In addition to beans, the layered creation was also home to pandan jelly threads, young coconut, and a magnificent violet scoop of ube ice cream (which was just a few shades bluer than my hair).

After the aggravating experience at LifeTime, I was reluctant to step foot into another gym. However, training was recommended leading up to the CN Tower Climb. Along with access to the Stairmaster, a 7-day (really, 6 days) "VIP" pass from an acquaintance of the sleepy polar bear earned me a taste of group fitness Zumba for the first time in three years.

​The 45-minute class was thoroughly enjoyable, with the instructor incorporating different styles of dance at varying intensities for the most pleasurable experience. Pop, Latin, and Bollywood moves were sampled in a format that bridged endurance training and HIIT. It was particularly pleasant to have class participants spread out across the studio floor, with a minimum radius of 2m to ensure freedom of movement.
Both the movements and format were familiar to me, given my experience with self-led YouTube workouts. That said, it was undeniable that home workouts offered greater flexibility: class duration (I would have preferred 60 minutes or longer), pausing capabilities (for loose shoelaces or bathroom breaks), and unobstructed view of the instructor were eliminated in the in-person environment.

Returning to the lockers, I grabbed my headphones and returned to the equipment area.

Declared to comprise of a total of 1776 steps, my goal of the day was to hit 50% of the CN Tower Climb's total. This equated to 888 steps.

​My immediate observation was the Stairmaster's tendency to clip one's toes. While the belt transitioned underneath one's body, the makeshift steps would fold underneath one another, compressing the front of part of the foot. The incident occured a handful more times, unaltered by increasing the climbing pace. It was concluded that the steps could not support the full length of one's foot, prompting one to continue climbing with only the ball of the foot in contact. Although this method would encourage constant use of the calves and ankles, it also made for a high degree of instability, especially if one's gaze is diverted elsewhere.

​At the end of a fifteen-minute period, I succeeded in climbing 904 steps - without cramping too!
Caloric burn was minimal but perspiration levels were intense.

​Comparing my stats for at-home cardio dance sessions and group format Zumba, I was pleased to find a higher average heart rate overall. Moreoever, my heart rate remained within a similar range, rather than embracing the steep ascents and descents of dance.

​The fight for parking prevails, as do delayed showers and questionably clean public facilities. That said, LA Fitness regarded me with respect, as a customer ought be. Moreover, class times were reasonable: weekend mornings or weekday evenings starting at 5:30 PM. Pilates and Zumba were offered at a minimum of two times a week, falling into the slots capable of being attended by working citizens.

​I planned to return the following day for a 12pm Mat Pilates class. Having unintentionally disregarded my alarm though, I decided to make the most of my late(r) morning with an indulgent breakfast dish.

​French Toast crept into my cravings list out of nowhere (as they often tend to). With our week-old loaf gone mouldy and no brioche on hand, I took to the only option: a fresh, sesame-topped whole wheat loaf.

The turnout wasn't that great. COBS' "thick slice" setting is quite thin to start, and the sesame seeds did not offer much compatibility with the sweet, eggy custard required for French Toast. Despite being seared on high heat with an ample amount of butter, the pieces was barely crisp; the bread was too porous to retain the egg mixture and too wheat-y to yield the bouncy texture associated with the decadent brunch item. Its low sugar content also rendered my salted butter intentions futile, for the sweet-savoury contrast simply wasn't present.

Naturally, the solution took form of drowning the slices in syrup. Mould was discovered a second time in our maple syrup bottle, thus Golden Syup from Pecan Pie creations was used in its place.
Later on, via Googling, did I learn of salted butter's tendency to foam and burn faster than unsalted butter. Commencing on low-medium heat is recommended - strongly advised, rather - when swapping out the more lenient alternative of unsalted.

​I pulled into the LA Fitness parking lot to witness sunshine and blue skies. Weather conditions were notably milder than the day prior.

​Another run on the Stairmaster would take place. Toe clipping still could not avoided, yet endurance and climbing pace improved over the twenty-four span. That said, this could have largely been owed to thorough stretching and not engaging in any other physical activity in advance.

It was also during this session that I discovered a fan button, which invited cooling gusts from the user-facing vent.

​A trek was undertaken about the entire gym floor this time. Besides the standard array of gym equipment, the perimeter of the space also housed squash courts, a basketball court, a kids' zone (likely for parents to come after work), and boot camp training area. The latter was distinguished with its characteristic use of TRX equipment and artificial grass surface. A stack of red Bosu balls were also identified to reside in this section.

​Water refill stations (not fountains) and paper towel dispensers were situated throughout the gym, always with a garbage bin nearby and sometimes with sanitizer in the close proximity.

​Leading up to class time, I returned my headphones - a prized belonging I shall sadly be deprived of on the actual climb date - to the locker and retrieved my never-before-used purple COWS towel and grip socks.

​The class had been switched to yoga without my prior awareness; the instructor had called in sick, I was informed.

​However, I found the format interesting nonetheless. Serene music played in the background. Embracing one's "yoga intention", we were guided through Warrior, Sun Salutation, and Pyramid poses with exceptionally clear verbal instructions, sometimes even assisted with visual descriptions of the movement ("think as if someone is pulling your right arm and right leg in opposite directions"). Along with these largely foreign names, sequences with more commonplace names were also included: Child's Pose, Downward Dog, and Upward Dog were frequently visited positions to counter moves demanding contraction. Form reminders were also given throughout the session - it was an aspect worth noting as "soul connection" always seemed to trump mind-body connection in most yoga classes I've participated in.

A handful of pilates moves were weaved into the class, namely Fire Hydrant circles, Bird Dog (with flexion), Tabletop Crunch Scissors, and Bridge/Single-Leg Bridge Raises with spinal sequencing. That said, class participants were only given a taste of these highly isolative moves as rep count was well below five per side. Downward Dogs were also admittedly frequent, equating to longer rest periods than the standard pilates session would include.
Of course, the class left me hankering for more, but I was appreciative of the various hamstring, inner thigh, and hip stretches we would progress through, for it eased the tensions from two consecutive days of stair-climbing.

At the end of the class, we were instructed to lay down on the mat, with legs outstretched and arms relaxed by our sides. To conclude the class, we would be instructed to "contract and release" from the bottom up: feet and ankles, thighs, hips and glutes, abs, chest and shoulders, hands and fingers, and, lastly, facial muscles. Memorable was this cooldown, for it reinforced the mind-body connection after engaging various muscle groups.

​​It was nice knowing that instructor-led sessions would always take place in the same facility, for there were merely two group fitness spaces, one of which was constantly occupied by indoor cycling equipment. It was also nice to see that classes swaps were conducted based on intensity levels, in addition to instructor availability, of course: Zumba subbed for Kickboxing Cardio and Yoga for Pilates.

​Around 1:15 PM, I departed from the asphalt lot. Instead of heading home immediately, I ventured over to the Dundas and Hampshire Gate plaza. It was, in hindsight, a horrible decision given the combined congestion of weekend afternoon shoppers and narrow corridors between Starsky, Costco, and The Brick. But I had a mission in mind, and was set on actualizing it.

​Mailer coupons for a new Chatime had found their way into our mailbox. As such, it seemed fitting to try my luck at locating Thai Tea while already in the neighbourhood.

Much like any other bubble tea outpost, the menu prices had seen a massive surge since the pandemic (and probably even before). A 50% off coupon was utilized for my large Thai Tea with Crystal Boba, resulting in a grand total of $4.75 due. The price had been taken back, for that was hardly a discount - in my home barista eyes, anyway - for an otherwise synthetic, powdery concoction.

​Frequent follow-up visits are not anticipated, especially once my coupons are depleted. The following observations should be noted:

• Thai Milk Tea and Espresso Thai Milk Tea are both fixed menu items
• A Large Thai Milk Tea rings in at $5.80 for a Regular and thirty cents more at $6.10 for a Large
• Espresso Thai Milk Tea is priced eighty cents more than Thai Milk Tea at $6.60 for a Regular (yikes)
• Crystal Boba sets one back an additional $1.00
• Plastic bags incur an additional fee of $0.15 (more yikes!)
• Parking lot is chaotic from Dundas Street and Costco property; recommended access is from Ridgeway Drive.

After being submerged in Thai Tea for about an hour, the Crystal Boba bore an unmistakable resemblance to fish roe. They weren't the tastiest of toppings, though it was nice knowing that the portion size had been generous (albeit for a whopping loonie!).