Out & About #915 | Rollerpony + Mikaku Izakaya

After concluding a day at Wonderland, my birthday buddy called me out on an obvious lack of effort in dressing up for outings.
"Do you even try anymore?!" she exclaimed vehemently. "It's either leggings or sweatpants and some weatherproof jacket."
Her words struck home, and I admitted to all charges, though without a shred of remorse. In my defense, the simplest outfits are the quickest to compile, and further serve to facilitate movement in the chosen activity.

For our annual birthday hangout though, it was unlikely that we'd be moving much. We agreed upon rollerblading at least several months prior, then finally decided on the outfit theme in the morning: 90s schoolgirl. Drawing inspiration from NewJeans' Hype Boy performance attire, I revealed myself in Danielle's braided Pucca buns, choker, collared shirt, and knee socks. Meanwhile, my Birthday Buddy mimicked Hanni/Minji with a knitted V-neck pullover, cute hair pins, black knee socks, black lace-up sneakers.

The excursion likely marked one of the few times we purposely matched getups. But, as with all intentional styling, the process is painfully time-consuming. We departed one hour later than the proposed departure time, partially owed to my looping back home to grab PPE (ie. knee and elbow pads) and picking up a Drive-Thru order at McD's.

The atrociously pricey Zesty Lime McWrap was dismissed for a Ranch Chicken Snack Wrap with Grilled Chicken, which rang in nearly 2.5 times cheaper at $3.29 before tax.

Rollerpony had been chosen destination for rollerblading (or roller skating, depending on the chosen footwear). Owned and operated by the same owners as Pursuit OCR, I pulled into the familiar asphalt lot, expecting to find an adjacent warehouse fixture with signage. When I did not, I looped about the facility and spotted a loading deck with the burgundy, triple-outlined R logo. Behind it was the customer entrance, and across the entrance a handful of parking spaces along a wired fence.

Pulling away the doors revealed high ceilings and a colourful interior. It was apparent that, instead of purchasing a new property in the vicinity, a section of the Pursuit OCR warehouse had been allocated towards Rollerpony, with the businesses assuming Unit A and Unit B respectively.

​We strode up towards the front desk to notify the staff of our reservation. The slot had been secured between 1-4 PM, although we had just pulled into the lot nearing 2 PM. Waivers could be completed online prior to arrival, or filled on site using the provided tablets lining the wall. Beyond the signing of waivers, the staff member also requested IDs, despite the booking only falling under one name.

Once the process was complete, we were supplied token for skate rentals. They were solid plastic chips adorned with the facility's logo, complete with a QR code on the backside. Rentals were situated at a different counter; a carpet with shoe sizes had been placed nearby for measurement, reminiscent of footwear stores in the 2000s. We relayed our sizes with hesitation, though the girl behind the counter assured us that skate sizes would align with our regular shoe size for the most part.

​Similar to Pursuit, the facility offered an abundance of lockers, but no locks. Nearby were benches for changing shoes and tables for dining, if so desired. Having forgotten my lock at home, we settled for placing our belongs within one of the cleaner spaces, then closing the door. We weren't particularly concerned, as there were few skaters at the early afternoon hour. Furthermore, any valuables were locked within the car or zipped inside my waist pouch.

The 90s theme was present throughout the space, from arcade games to vending machines to even a barber shop. Rollerpony exuded a far more modern aura than Scooter's, but had been designed to emanate old-school vibes with a splash of newness. Also present was a skate customization/retail shop and diner-style booths around the rink for resting and conversing.

Outside food and drink were not permitted, as to encourage purchases at the establishment's restaurant partner, Flava Ceen. Unfortunately, the selection was quite limited: snackables such as Jamaican patties and Caribbean bottled soft drinks.

Prior to stepping on the rink, I mandated needs for indoor plumbing. The staff member at the front desk had noted the washrooms to be "past the vending machines". I followed suite, then mistakenly entered the men's washroom. It smelled strongly of budget disinfectant, yet still much cleaner than the women's bathroom, which reeked of mustiness. "Sewer" others had been heard pointing out the unbearable stench.
The overall griminess could not be overlooked, yet there were aspects worth noting: metal sinks and stalls painted in a bubble gum palette reminiscent of Avril Lavigne's high-teen Girlfriend music video.

​Lacing up my rentals tightly, I attempted to stand up and nearly risked sliding onto the concrete floor. Smooth lacquer adorned all the benches, making it difficult to stand without slipping: the rear set of wheels would propel the body forward once force was placed on the heels.

The roller rink could be accessed from the locker area via a carpeted ramp or, alternatively, a level, lacquered pathway from the dining booths. While not particularly expansive, the rink was divided into an inner and outer rink. The inner rink was was beginner-friendly, with bars for gripping and ledges for resting. At its centre was a flashy disco ball, and at either end a DJ booth and speaker setup. Vibrant, graphic artwork filled the rink, regardless of the inner or outer perimeter. Elements of koi fish, skater girls, and more were intriguing to gaze upon, and offered cheery visual appeal unlike the treacherous concrete floors of Scooter's. Lining the rink were also pillars of colour-changing LED lights. Loud music and remixes of old favourites blared overhead.

In spite of arriving one hour into our reserved slot - and using up to fifteen minutes for settling in and changing - the three-hour booking was more than sufficient for our roller skating experience. It was fun, but a similar practice to skating in that it can often lead to locked ankles and knees, cramped toes, and lower back pain (for those bending forward). 
We definitely did not skate for a continuous two hours. Between learning and practicing, we had taken to photo-taking and observing others in the space. As we began a leisurely departure from the rink, it was observed that other parties were asked to vacate at 4 PM sharp, just like Pursuit.

Admission was $15 per person, which spanned a three-hour booking period. Designated slots could be reserved starting from Rollerpony's opening time of 1 PM. Rentals were priced at $5 per person per visit, though bringing one's own blades was also permitted. A few experienced skaters were spotted in sleek, black rollerblades (a single row of wheels aligned at the base of the shoe), while rentals adopted the form of rollerblades: four wheels positioned beneath the base of the foot with a rubber stopper at the front, akin to toe picks on figure skates. The design was likely to promote stability and ease the learning curve, but made for trickier turning maneuvers in general. Turning required all four wheels to travel in the same direction, which was challenging to achieve without lifting one's foot off the ground. Skating, and probably rollerblading as well, simplified most turns by relying on small shifts in weight to guide subsequent movements.
By the 3 PM mark, I had successfully managed to make tighter turns around the rink, and even confidently lifted the front part of the roller skate briefly to glide around the corner. As both inner and outer rinks operated in a counter-clockwise fashion though, rounding the corners relied primarily on pushing off with the right foot. An alternate design would have allowed the move to be executed on both legs.

Air-conditioning was nonexistent within the facility, with an open garage door being the sole source of ventilation. As such, dressing lightly is recommended.

​Returning the sour-smelling rentals and assembling our belongings, we slowly made our way back to the car. I yearned for bubble tea, then debated the thirty-seven minute trip to North York in the absence of an umbrella. Proceeding first, we removed ourselves from the commercial neighbourhood and exited onto Finch. Droplets began to emerge onto the windshield at this point, and I consoled myself that routing back to Mississauga would have resulted in a trip of equivalent travel time.

Parking near Palgong wasn't very difficult.

A desire to sample their Taste of Summer Pineapple Series led to the lady sourcing assistance from a member of staff from the back. An extremely tanned, baseball cap-donning man appeared and began punching in our orders of Pineapple Lemon Ginger Slush. "Pineapple Passports" were supplied for stamp collection.

Service was friendly, but decidedly intrusive and overbearing. I wished for no more than swift payment, a swift snapshot, and a swift departure, yet was constantly watched by both members of staff and repeatedly recommended to try the Pineapple Ade.
Our picks, while graciously presented in clear, plastic cups with plastic dome lids and plastic straws for consumption, were mediocre at their hefty price points of $7.33 after tax. Notes of ginger were barely discernible; the slush was wholly one-dimensional and lacked complexity.

Pondering the possibility of redeeming 50% off Meet Fresh, I began heading south, promptly turning into the Metro parking garage without much contemplation. We both changed into comfier clothing and, in an effort to avoid ongoing precipitation, roamed the supermarket out of curiosity. The aisles were frigid, and the single stall bathroom utterly repulsive (think fly in the stall and a grotesque wad of hair peeking out from the sanitary disposal bin)

​Out of curiosity (and convenience), I placed my first Too Good To Go order. The $5.99 Surprise Bag from the bakery resulted in 6 Ciabatta Buns, a box of Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies, 4 Raspberry Turnovers, two Onion Buns, and a mini Multigrain Baguette.

We decided against unboxing the goods for snacking, and also against walking outdoors with neither jackets nor umbrellas. Early dinner was the unanimous decision.

Mikaku Izakaya was my first choice for supper. When a lack of tables had denied my group from trying the eatery after Wonderland, I vowed to return and quench my curiosity.

Establishments located north of Finch are always tricky to visit, for metred street parking (Green P) is eliminated in the presence of residential high-rise buildings. 
Parking was supposedly located at the back of the restaurant, thus I made a left onto Moore Park, praying for at least one decent spot. A poorly - or rather, barely, maintained asphalt lot came into view. I checked for curb cuts first, for the curb exhibited such a tremendous amount of wear that I wasn't certain which depressions were intentional, then pulled into the questionable space. Limited spots and potholes pooling with rainstorm discharge had me veering from side to side. Eventually, we found space next to a dumpster and weeds; it reeked of cigarettes and danger. There was also an open excavation present - uncapped pipe? - without high-vis paint or cones for cautionary measures.

Scurrying through the rain, we rushed through the front door of the establishment, then heaved a sigh of relief at seeing the availability of seating.

Menus were laminated and separated into a sake-exclusive booklet and double-sided food and beer/liquor menu. From the few sticky pages I leafed through, the sake had been priced steeply, despite not assuming restaurant-or wholesale-exclusive status. Majority had also been spotted previously in LCBOs in and around North York, or at least the east end of the GTA. The umeshu selection was quite generic, as was the beer. Neither cocktails nor mocktails were offered. In fact, the staff appeared confused when asked about the latter, for abstaining from alcohol probably isn't common practice in Korean culture.

​Following much debate, the final contenders emerged: Stamina Hotate, Mikaku Beef Tartare, Spicy Cream Udon, and Japanese Fish Cake Soup.

Stamina Hotate, alternatively known as Scallop Skirt, was an economic starter one could fathom pairing well with beer and sake, as seafood typically tends. The portion was quite meager, yet reflective of its $5.99 price point. Interesting and well-seasoned, we deemed the starter tastier and more worthwhile than the likes of MeNami's appetizers, which are always upwards of ten dollars and hardly feed two.

​The Korean classic of yukhoe (육회) made assumed two spots on Mikaku's menu: its purest form for $21.99 and donburi-style for $16.99. Initially hesitant at the amount of red meat to be presented, I voted in favour of the Beef Tartare Rice Bowl. The Birthday Buddy imposed concerns that the dish may prove more ricey than meaty, which was valid. Our collective dietary needs for iron also played a factor in the decision-making process.

Beef Tartare was served in a spherical mound, with a side salad, streak of emulsified dressing, and quail egg in accompaniment. The salad had been mixed with dressing - but, thankfully, not excessively so - before plating, while the quail egg was advised for mixing into the yukhoe before consuming. I mistakenly placed the egg on top of the greens, then transferred the slimy ingredient to the fleshy threads of beef. Admittedly, it supplied little to no textural difference nor added depth.
The yukhoe itself was likely pre-marinated and maintained in very cold fridge to prevent spoiling, as it hadn't been fully thawed at the centre at time of consumption.

Our cravings for carbohydrates had shifted towards the Spicy Cream Udon, which was declared minimally spicy by the bespectacled, sneaker-donning server. True to his words, our platter was mainly mild and bore only faint hints of fieriness to combat creaminess. In fact, it was milder than the Rose Toppoki from MyMy Chicken! Its addictive, delectable qualities was well-deserving of its title of a fan favourite. Though, toasting the baguette slices would have elevated the dish to unmistakable new heights.

View the full album HERE !

The Japanese Fish Cake Soup was last to be delivered. Much to my dismay, its broth was spiced from gochu infusion, much like Daldongnae. A variety of fish cakes floated within, including our shared favourite of the skewered, flat variation. However, it suffices to say that the fish cakes were not up to par: the steamed egg was too mushy, the flat fish cake was rigid, and the larger fried fish cakes just didn't seem very appetizing.

From the pickled starter to the udon to the fish cake soup, we could not deny the presence of chopped onions in nearly every dish on the table.

In terms of ambience, Mikaku accurately reflected the attributes most izakayas are expected to possess. A relatively dim ambience and sleek décor were quintessential to setting the tone. Their placement of glass bottles on top of spotlights made me recall my 2018 visit to the Toronto Christmas Market, where Hot Yuzu Sake had been obtained from Izumi.

Hip hop and R&B tracks played above, loud enough for the lyrics to be heard clearly, yet not invasive like noise volumes at Kinka/Guu. The consistent mix of uptempo tracks, including a handful of SMTM collaborations and even Case 143, harnessed impressive appeal and contributed greatly to the atmosphere. Kosam had also played several popular tracks, but the playlist had been blended with non-R&B, hip hop tracks, making for a lack of consistent sound.

Mikaku easily earned itself a high rating from their dining environment and and gustatory offerings alone. Service was very friendly, and dishes were delivered with speediness. I was also appreciative of their portion sizes, which are not only reflective of their prices but splendid as both entrées and shareables. The compact eatery has likely overtaken MeNami as my new casual dining favourite, though parking is surely not easy.

Tables are scarce, thus it is advised to visit early in the evening to secure a table. Along the north wall are a handful of booths; situated along the south wall are three tables (1x two-seater, 1x four-seater, 1x four-to-five seater) and one traditional two-person booth (read: where shoes are removed and placed on the entry step).

Be mindful that the dining floor can be chilly. Blankets were provided to a table with two older patrons. Younger visitors could request warm water or alcoholic beverages to recover internal warmth.

Washrooms were situated on the lower level in the form of individual stalls in gender-separated facilities. Furnishings had adopted a cozy, wooden interior, and were, shockingly, very clean at my time of visit. Furthermore, the toilets had superb flushing capacity, unlike MeNami.

Mikaku's dessert selection did not extend beyond mochi ice cream, so we readied ourselves for sweet treats elsewhere. While traversing south along Yonge, I contemplated Meet Fresh once more, then dismissed it on the account that their hot desserts were appalling.
​
Petit Potato emerged as the successful candidate, for the restaurant was home to both traditional Chinese dessert soups and an underground garage for minimal walking in the rain.

As the evening grew chilly, I found myself shivering uncontrollably without a jacket. We searched Mumuso for a cardigan and umbrella; finding none, we moved onto Dollarama, where I settled for a fuzzy baby blanket with a humourous print of rollerblading dinosaurs listening to Walkmans.

Diving into the unexpectedly drafty conditions of the outside, my footsteps quickened to reduce exposure to the elements. Frankly, I probably looked homeless - and more than a tad hysterical - huddled in a small blanket and poking at the accessible door button with a plastic hanger. (Actually, I choked up recalling the scene.)​

​Our first order of business was to validate the parking ticket for two hours of complimentary stay. A machine positioned at Petit Potato's unmanned reception desk made for an effortless, self-service solution.

Stepping foot into the dining floor, I was overwhelmed by the incredible number of patrons munching away on dinner at the late hour. The dining floor was positively bustling, with many sizzling hot plates filling the air with greasy fumes as they passed us by.
Crumbs had been deeply lodged in my chair, indicative of their diner volumes. It took several minutes of inverting and pounding the chair until a staff member offered to clean the crumbs away with a small cloth.

​Being a lover of sago, my birthday buddy opted for M01 House Special Super Golden Sago (大有金撈). The $12.99 creation comprised of fresh fruit and sago pearls submerged in mango cream. I avoided the cantaloupe and honeydew melon balls, but took to sliced strawberries and watermelon. The former, albeit deeply ruby red in hue, weren't thoroughly sweet; the watermelon slices, residing on the rigid side, instilled pain in my tooth. Nata de Coco cubes and coconut threads were, surprisingly, the highlight of the dish, for the mango cream was far too sugary and sago bits were informed clumped up at the bottom of the dish.

Meanwhile, I had taken to K22 Steamed Whole Pear with Peach Resin (滋潤桃膠燉原個雪梨糖水). A total of fifteen minutes passed before the shallow dish would be presented. Siilar to M01, the combination was average at best.
Both the peach resin and white fungus were obnoxiously stiff and hard on the stomach, while the steamed pear was tarter than it was sweet. Steam escaping the fruit scalded my tongue terribly, leading to its forceful expulsion. Red dates and goji berries were an all too familiar sighting, and hardly one worthy of its $13.99 price tag. The broth was finished, on the account that my parched throat required hydration. Majority of the peeled and cored pear would remain.

​Throughout our stay, at least three plates of fluffy Japanese pancake towers passed us by, with two being of the original flavour and one being matcha. The observation led me to ponder whether we had opted for the less popular items.

Conclusively speaking, my previous experience had been better. Neither of us were satisfied with Petit Potato's desserts; their savoury dishes had been executed more competently.

Being fond of Oatmeal Raisin Cookies (with the exceptions of those horrifically sweet ones - link) and even fonder of Chocolate Chip Cookies, I couldn't resist plucking one from the Too Good To Go package box upon returning home that evening, even at the late hour of 11 PM. My tooth, persisting with pains sustained from the Black Wolf Coffee incident, suffered immediate quivers, for the cookie was stale and rock-solid. That said, it still yielded easier than the despicably refrigerated likes of Black Wolf. The box was slid to the side, reserved for my next in-office presence.

One of four Raspberry Turnovers was toasted lightly and paired with Tres Dragones Cold Brew the next morning. The concoction was acceptable, but mostly flaky due to a oil-based pastry instead of an all-butter formula.

I regarded the package of Ciabatta ones wearily, then set to work repurposing them into garlic croutons, The day-old buns were sliced lengthwise then cubed, and tossed into a mixing bowl with salted butter, olive oil, garlic powder, rosemary, sage, minced garlic, black pepper, and a teaspoon of granulated sugar. Using two trays allowed the pieces to be spread out into a single layer for uniform toasting.
The cubes were baked at 350 F for about twenty-five minutes. Seeing no colour change though, they were maintained in their respective positions in the oven for another fifteen before being swapped. By this point, they had already began burning slightly. I had overbaked them, but the seasonings were nonetheless delectable. They too were set aside and portioned for office distribution.

The sleepy polar bear was the recipient of the remaining two items: an Onion Bun duo and mini Multigrain Baguette.