Out & About #886 | Café de Hong Kong, Tufting It Out + Bap.Zip

The main event for the sleepy polar bear's birthday was one that I pondered to an extensive degree.
Eliminating spas, movies (as the one of obvious interest had yet to release), and physical activity left me with very few options. Well, options that I found to be innovative anyway. Back and forth I would debate with myself regarding tufting as a potential activity, first justifying its value as a new DIY pursuit, then rejecting it on the basis of cost and resulting level of satisfaction. "Would it be an activity capable of being enjoyed equally?"

Eventually, seeing as any other activity seemed to pale in comparison, I bit the bullet and booked a slot at ZuoZuo Tufting & Fluid Bear. Of all the businesses I had so carefully reviewed, the Richmond Hill establishment prevailed as the most reasonable choice: Etobicoke, Yonge/Sheppard, and Yonge/Lawrence were compact and did not offer parking; Scarborough was unnecessarily far with few POIs, if any, in the surrounding vicinity.

Food destinations are of primary importance to the sleepy polar bear. Within fifteen minutes of the ZuoZuo, on the east side of the the 404, was Cafe de Hong Kong. It was decided, in that moment, that I'd aim for the popular brunch spot once and for all. The first visit was met with a 100-minute wait time and a consequential re-routing to Mount Joy Station Café.
This time around, I'd add my name to the waitlist just before setting out (and pray that all would go according to plan).

​With about fifteen minutes left till our arrival, I received a text notifying me of table availability. Oh no. I thought. Things are not going to plan after all!
Hurriedly, I joined the waitlist a second time, using my name and the sleepy polar bear's contact number. The wait time was an estimated 45-59 minutes.

The exterior was already bustling when we arrived. Overheard as I inched my way past the double doors was "We've been waiting so long and still need to wait."
Another chimed in. "I got the notification, but we still have to wait!"
I approached one of the staff to inquire of the waitlist status, then was directed a lady with short black hair. A tablet resided in her hand, likely assisting in queue management. Bracing myself to be rejected, I stated my case: "I put my name on the waitlist received the notification. It's a table for two."
The lady skimmed the list, found my name towards the top, but refused to confirm the exact wait time to be conservative.

Back outside I went. The adjacent Joy Noodle Cafe was proposed as an alternative, but the sleepy polar bear was reluctant to accept. "Let's wait ten minutes then see."
"Okay, but my booking is at 12 PM." I cautioned.

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​We re-entered Cafe de Hong Kong and inquired of availability for two once more. This time, the short-haired lady gestured us to wait by a compact two-seater. We would be seated next!

A swift yet thorough Lysol wipe later, we settled in beside a couple nearing retirement age. The man looked over at us with a slight animosity. "Why were they seated first instead of them?!"
I looked over to my right, where their friends were supposedly waiting.
His wife responded calmly, "Because they (the friends) are a party of three."

​Laminated menus were presented before us within seconds, and orders taken within minutes.

The sleepy polar bear opted for a Shrimp Pineapple Bun Burger (#106), then supplemented the order with a  (#219). Together, the duo would ring in at $17.90. Perusing past correspondence with ochungg, I pointed towards Meal Set D of the All-Day Breakfast Set. At a mere $9.79, I was granted both a Black Truffle Scrambled Egg on Toast and a Satay Beef Rice Noodle in Soup. Both of us took to a HK Milk Tea - iced in a glass to-go bottle for the sleepy polar bear, and iced with Traditional Ding Ding Candy for me. Being "premium" drinks, additional charges of $2.25 were applied, along with an extra $1.50 for the takeout bottle.

One of us had ordered before the other, irrationally controlled by the pressure of time. I placed my order a few minutes later, but was shocked to find my components on the table less than two minutes after. Service was shockingly speedy, and surprisingly courteous. Often do we associate restaurants with high traffic volumes and quick turnover rates to rude service, grimy tables, and overflowing waste bins; it was with much glee that I declared none of these aspects to be observed at Cafe de Hong Kong. Our table was clean, the floor free of grease and debris, and the individual washroom stalls adequately stocked and pristine. Moreover, the staff were exceptionally pleasant, despite the snaking queue of 69 minutes and above.

​Over the past three days, I had consumed more than enough Chinese bakery buns. From T&T's mini Coconut Buns to Plain 排包 to Raisin 排包 to a standalone Pineapple Bun, I was all bread-ed out. When the sleepy polar bear urged me to sample a bite of the shrimp-filled one, I shuddered and almost wished to decline. Of course, I didn't. The restaurant's rendition was flakey, sweet, and nicely toasted - far superior to that of any supermarket. Placed between the bun halves were shrimp, lettuce, onion rings, and mayo specked with mentaiko. While I much preferred the chewy properties of the previous night's shrimp morsels, the "burger"'s constituents offered a creamy, savoury contrast to the supple, cushiony exterior.

Rice Roll with Siu Mai was a compact side of bite-sized 腸粉 (cheung fun) drizzled with the customary peanut-and-oyster-sauce duo. A few pieces of fried sui mai were nestled into the dish, contributing a pleasant crunch to the otherwise pliable specimens. A sprinkling of sesame seeds and two bamboo skewers finished off the dish, as they often do for HK-style rice noodles. Springy were the pieces: softer than Tracy Dessert but more structured than Sam's Congee Delight.

​My initial perception of Set D was that I'd be receiving either toast or vermicelli, and was, frankly, in awe that $9.79 had earned me both elements. I dismissed the Satay Beef Rice Noodle in Soup fairly quickly. While the beef was supple, albeit in the heavily tenderized sense, and the lettuce strips and sweet corn kernels delicious, the broth in which it resided was a treacherous solution of monosodium glutamate.

On the other hand, the Black Truffle Scrambled Egg was fabulous. Jiggly, golden ripples with a shroomy accent for seasoning, it was unanimously deemed the singly most decadent component of the meal. Its underlying foundation of crustless white toast paired splendidly with the egg, though was enjoyed to a lesser degree due to my bread overdose of late.

​Also leaving a prominent impression was the Iced Hong Kong Milk with Traditional Ding Ding Candy. Wonderfully flavourful and velvety, I never knew HK Milk Tea could pair so well with milk foam and honeycomb candy.

All factors considered, our first Cafe de Hong Kong experience was exceedingly satisfactory. The environment was suprisingly clean, and the staff welcoming and efficient. HK Milk Tea and Scrambled Egg have been bookmarked for our next visit, whenever that happens to be. For the speediest acquisition of sustenance, it is advised to time one's arrival with the start of their operating hours (ie. 10 AM, with the exception of Tuesdays) or take to the Yelp waitlist while preserving optimism. A word of warning though: Markham is rarely timely.

We departed from the First Markham Place area around noon, venturing back onto the 404 NB for about ten minutes. Although I had reserved the 12 PM - 4 PM slot, I somehow perceived tardiness would be accepted (unlike escape rooms). And I was right.

​Dashing from the private lot to Unit 31, we entered to find a floor of eager tufting beginners partaking in an introductory tutorial. Some had begun tracing their chosen designs from a projected image; others merely hung about observing the instructor. Our path into the studio was obstructed by two women, who had supposedly also booked the 12 PM slot but arrived to find a shortage of workshop spaces. The front desk was unmanned, leaving us to poke about the front of the store in search of available staff.

​The bulk of the studio comprised of tufting stations, while three smaller rooms were fitted along the window. These appeared to be dedicated for pompom crafts, jewellery-making, and fluid bear painting.
For the first ten minutes, we merely hovered about, waiting for our presence to be acknowledged. The staff, a team of five, held a hurried meeting before proceeding with next steps. Then, we, along with the other two customers, were seated at the middle of the studio while tables with canvases were moved into one of three smaller rooms. The sleepy polar bear and I would, by chance, obtain our private space for projector use. The demo canvas by the front of the facility was set up for use by the other team.

​In advance of our visit, I had compiled both of our chosen designs and emailed the array to ZuoZuo's business account for use on the day of. When the staff experienced issues downloading the images from the message, I was asked to text them over via MMS. So what was the point of my planning? I wondered while knowingly depleting my mobile data. For iPhone users, HDMI to lightning cables were available for image projection. There was no such option for Android users, so it is advised to either bring one's own HDMI to USB-C cable or send the images to an iPhone-equipped tufting partner.

The sleepy polar bear finished tracing on the smaller 50 cm x 50 cm canvas far sooner than I did. My compact bag project would entail four rectangular panels across a 70 cm x 70 cm canvas, which one of the staff members assisted in outlining for me. As I knelt down to begin tracing, I became aware of the fine details I would later be responsible for: tiny, asymmetrical blobs were far from beginner level, especially with thin borders.

​Tufting spaces were limited to areas that supported the guns' operation. Pulley systems had been installed the ceiling, as to facilitate ease of use during the act. Prior to tracing out our designs, we, along with the other group, began to estimate the wait time: approximately two hours would be needed for a small rug, which meant that we'd likely been sitting about for some time. Luckily, most of the early birds had opted for small rugs with basic designs, allowing us to transition over with minimal delay. As one of the fluid bear workshop staff transferred our canvases over, we were directed to the back wall to pick out our yarn colours of choice.

The staff member who had led the tutorial recommended conducting a few test strips beyond the traced design before commencing. I heeded this advice, for I had already struggled with yarn tension and maintaining the gun proportional to the canvas during the demo. On the other hand, the sleepy polar bear completely disregarded the suggestion and started immediately on the background colour of the rug. Furthermore, the tufting gun had been left on while not in use, exposing the sharp blade in my direction. The trigger, as I learned, was quite sensitive, making yarn reloading a tremendous hazard if the device remained powered. It is important to be mindful of the indicator light, and utilize the conveniently positioned on/off switch for the safety of the user and those in proximity. Band-aids were available in the nearby work cart, though it is always better to prevent injury than remediate after the fact.

A brief learning curve is associated with the tufting gun. To ensure complete penetration of the yarn through the canvas, one ought first position the gun at ninety degrees to the canvas, press to insert the blade through weaves, then hold the trigger while navigating upwards. Once the blade was inserted, the gun could be swivelled to any angle, as long as it remained in the same plane and the black lever on the bottom pointed downwards (not following the direction of movement). Maintaining this hand arrangement for angled tufts was more challenging than I thought, so instead of risking occasionally loose threads, I opted for lines and points. This enabled me to keep the gun upright, though demanded very controlled, short bursts of yarn.

​Within the first twenty minutes, my dominant hand began to cramp, as it often does when holding a static position for extended periods of time (ie. holding onto bike handlebars or using a hand mixer). Pangs of pain would continue over the course of tufting, mandating short breaks for recovery before continuing. Session time is fluid though, with the staff assuring me that I could "take as much time as needed" to conclude the project.

Over the span of 6-7 hours, I had kneeled, slouched, gripped, sighed, and, of course, "tuft"d it out to realize my design dreams. After five hours in, the sleepy polar bear had finished. Meanwhile, I had turned to happy tunes and grin-inducing podcasts to power me through the remainder of my Sulley cow print. Of the 12 PM slot, I was the last to finish. The duo across from us had picked a large rug and worked tirelessly into the evening hours, just as we did. But even they finished first. With a late start and some colour choice errors, I finished around the 7:30 PM mark.

The team had been exceptional over the course of our stay: Kind, helpful, and accommodating. Beyond offering tips, water bottles, and assistance to no end, they were also resourceful and impressively quick at problem-solving. When faced with overbooking issues, they swiftly maximized use of the fluid bear workspaces. When asked about extra rugs to place beneath one's knees, one member handed me a plastic bag, into which I could collect loose yarn threads and bundle for joint support. The idea was genius really, as it would encourage visitors to clean up in the process.

YouTube content had warned that the tufting process would be dusty, thus encouraging mask use throughout. Frankly, the yarn was found to shed less than expected; in contrast, it was the sticky, dusty floors that one ought be cognizant of. Nylon apparel is ideal for this activity.

​Once all colours had been tufted, the staff would check the stitching and advise of any changes. My tufts were quite comprehensive, though the sleepy polar bear's required reworking to fix large gaps. Once approved, glue (Elmer's?) would be slathered onto the back to secure the yarn in place. Then, the design would be removed from the canvas and transferred over to another station for backing and shaving. Final processing was completed by one (to two) designated member(s) of staff, while others assisted with projector setup, fluid bear, and general tufting inquiries.

The sleepy polar bear had reached out to a seemingly less experienced member for the removal of the small rug. I observed warily as the snapback-donning man utilized a barely functioning pair of scissors to snip around the canvas; the dedicated "finisher" had taken to a high-speed razor blade instead, and left ample clearance for backing. The mishap later resulted in curled edges, an uneven border, and gaps between the canvas and backing in the final product.

​As for my design, I was informed that bags would take up to one week for finishing. The same policy applied to medium and large rugs, though I hadn't been informed until time of completion. I had the option of returning to pick up my project the following week, or relinquish an additional thirteen dollars to have it shipped via Canada Post. Of course, I chose the more economic option.

Tufting was a thoroughly fun activity, and also an unexpectedly tiring one. Before tax, the small rug rang in at $98, while the bag at $128 (canvas price) plus $38 (processing labour). Albeit pricey, I'd deem the experience worthwhile, and would even recommend investing in a larger canvas to facilitate design creation. While most would err on the conservative side with a simple design and small canvas, it's important to realize that tufting is unlikely to be a regular occurrence. That said, even first-timers should maximize the opportunity to customize a product, for standard cartoon-themed rugs can be purchased anywhere. Artistic capabilities are not necessary for this activity, as exhibited by yours truly, though intricate designs should prompt one to select a larger canvas for sanity's sake. Patience, on the other hand, is pivotal. Nonetheless, I enjoyed tufting more than any other static, artistic pursuit I've tried - a functional outcome is a bonus!

​While I wrapped up the final panel of my design, the sleepy polar bear was sent off on a mission for fruit tea. Returning thirty minutes later with Yi Fang in hand, we sipped on Yifang Fruit Tea Tea and Mango Pomelo Sago while browsing dinner options. As if on cue, one of the staff members entered into the studio with a Fantuan bag in hand. It was supper time, after all.

I proposed swinging by Luna Bakery first, as it would likely be shuttered once sustenance was obtained.

As expected, the bakery had sold out of their more popular picks, leaving me with few options.

Bingsoo and coffee were out of the question at the late hour, so a Sweet Pumpkin Rice Cake and Walnut Crumble Rice Cake Pie were procured instead.

​The former was not so different from Black Bean Honey Rice Cake, in that it was fluffy, cakey 설기. The Walnut Crumble Rice Cake Pie retained a mild crunch and overall gooey interior. Evident in its composition was a larger proportion of glutinous rice flour. The 찰떡 consistency is generally more to my liking, though my go-to would have to be the Mugwort Fig rendition. Strawberry Rice Cake is on the to-try list for next time, as well as Injeolmi Bingsoo once mercury levels begin to soar.

​Bap.Zip emerged on my radar after a few friend discussions. Having personally visited on a family outing, the sleepy polar bear, warned of ridiculous wait times. Alas, we pulled open the doors around 8 PM to reveal a largely vacant dining floor.

We were initially directed towards a compact two-seaters between artificial hedges (with wheels!), then gestured towards a wooden booth at the northeast corner of the restaurant. Instead of being compressed between two edges, I swerved towards one of the Stainless steel tables instead. The seats, while admittedly less roomy than the booths, offered delineation from other diners and eliminated claustrophobia-associated anxieties.

​Having seen the Soy Shrimp Bibimbap grace my social media feed, my meal choice was an easy decision. However, seeing as a hot dish would be preferable in the face of an unstable immune system, the Eggplant Dolsot Bibimbap with Pork was also plucked for sharing. We also took to a Mini Beef Pancake to start, as Haemul Pajeon appeared too greasy for the time being.

​The appetizer was likely the best out of all three orders, despite involving steep cost of seven dollars. Two pieces were included in the order, with savoury dipping sauce on the side. The condiment boasted a mild kick, like the one served with pajeon. Each allotment was essentially a thin slice of beef with one side bearing jeon batter - delicious but a microscopic portion for its price.

Entrées were far larger in comparison, with a trio of banchan and seaweed soup included with each Bibimbap order. With its components arranged across individual trays, the format was ideal for group gatherings, in that side dishes could be enjoyed equally by all. The Kimchi resided on the spicier side; my portion consisted of stems (crunchier) while the dish across from me was filled with softer ends of cabbage leaves. Fish cake strips were of a decent quantity, though heavily salted and coated liberally with sesame oil. The cabbage slaw with grey sauce (black sesame-specked mayo?) was refreshing and slighly sweet. Least to my liking was the seaweed soup, an all-around gritty and msg-laden element I wouldn't mind omitted.

An abundance of rice formed the foundation of both rice bowls. While the Soy Shrimp Bibimbap featured a sweet soy dressing, the Eggplant Dolsot was well-seasoned with a noticeable notch of fieriness. Egg yolk adorned the tops of both bowls, contributing a sense of substance without unnecessary tackiness. Suppressed appetite aside, neither dish was particularly memorable. Toppings were few and textural contrast was minimal, with the exception of lightly seasoned, toothsome shrimp bodies. I observed an excess of furikake on the Soy Shrimp Bibimbap, and again excessive salting on the Eggplant Dolsot. The day had mainly constituted of carbs and minimal hydration, and Bap.Zip's offerings hardly helped to neutralize the situation.

I replenished fluid levels with two cups of barley tea from the gooseneck kettle placed at our table. The tea was, unofficially, the second-best thing to be delivered.​

Around the 8:30 PM mark, our server came around with the bill. We were informed that a transition would take place leading up to 9:00 PM, where the eatery would be transformed into a pub, with a different owner and different staff. As such, customers were asked to settle their Bap.Zip bills prior to the transition, but were permitted to stay past nine o'clock if ordering from the Feel 90 menu. Soon, the hedges were wheeled to a different section of the space, the lights were dimmed, and loud K-Pop tracks began blaring overhead.

An odd concept it was indeed.

Leftovers were taken to go before the 9 PM mark. We browsed The Cups briefly, becoming acquainted with their new interior and updated menu, then commenced our westward trip home.

​A handful of new vendors were spotted while traversing down Yonge. Of these unfamiliar names, I made a mental note to check out Kray at a later point in time.