Out & About #917 | Red Lobster, % Arabica + Philippine Festival Mississauga

Ever since nearly uprooting a tooth from Black Wolf's Coffee refrigerated Cookies 'N Creme Cookie - just why?!?! - I've been anxiously awaiting a visit to the dental office. My fate would be delivered to me in an instant: either extraction and implant for life, or sheer peace of mind. Thankfully, I was informed of the latter.

A little more than sixty minutes had been allocated for the appointment, but the checkup had merely spanned twenty minutes, including visual examination and x-ray. Proposing to visit Yorkdale in advance of our lunch reservation, we began to traverse south along Dufferin.
Google Maps guided me along the path less travelled: a roundabout way to access the parking garage along Yorkdale Rd. In spite pulling in before 11 AM, the ground level garage was already nearing capacity. I managed to secure a spot in a dead end zone, then trekked through the stuffy garage towards the air-conditioned interior.

A number of changes had taken place within the retail space:

• Craig's Cookies now had a storefront across from Starbucks
• TWG was no more
  
• The luxury wing had expanded to include new stores such as Alexander Wang and Fendi (not one, but two!)

Acne Studios' low shop entrance was intriguing to me, as was the furry lilac bag positioned on the display table. Immediately drawn to its lovely, textured exterior and buttery soft calve leather lining, an inkling of purchasing power surfaced - that is, until I revealed the price tag of $1050.

At the west edge of the mall were eateries: an Uncle Tetsu counter (with three-dollar reusable eco totes for sale), the combined space of Konjiki Ramen and Saryo Cafe, RH Courtyard (on my bucket list!), Aburi TORA, and Cafe Landwer.

Routing back to the east end, we passed Läderach - one of three locations in the GTA. My in-office presence had granted me several opportunities to explore the Eaton Centre location. Alas, the hazelnut- and toffee-speckled bark were lavish purchases retailing at $13.90 per 100 grams, and I couldn't bring myself to invest. The samples were silky and positively fragrant though, so at least one of us had taken to an assorted pouch for later sampling.

We had covered roughly 85% of the mall until I was reminded of my coffee shop of interest. Neither had spotted the logo while roaming the grounds. Turning to the store directory, it was discovered that % Arabica was located in the singular corridor we had bypassed during our leisurely sojourn. 

The floor area of the Japanese coffee shop was unthinkably limited. % Arabica occupied a compact wedge at the shopping centre's southwest corner, somehow fitting a storage room, drink preparation counter, waiting area, and minimal seating area into the tiny facility. Commentary regarding the use of mirrors to give off the illusion of a spaciousness was overhead by a nearby shopper. I silently nodded in agreement, for the coffee bar would likely appear cramped and uninviting otherwise.​

The queue was joined around the 11:40 AM mark, as the number of patrons until the cashier seemed to comprise of no more than ten. Lunch reservations were slated for noon; naively optimistic I was to believe we would make it in time.

Slow-moving with curious or indecisive (or both) customers, our turn to order wasn't granted until at least twenty minutes later. In the meantime, I had taken note of the various brewing equipment, cohesive gold-beige and white colour scheme, and minimalist merchandise bearing the "%" logo. A simple ceramic scooper was priced at $16, while an umbrella at $43.

I took the reins when we were eventually summoned to the counter. Our choices of a Spanish Latte and Dark Latte were relayed to the cashier, however I sought out the staff's opinion when it came to choosing between Hot and Iced variations. The recommendations received led to ordering an Iced Spanish Latte (12 oz.) and a hot Dark Latte (also 12 oz.). Both utilized a default formula of whole milk; alternatives included only oat milk and not lactose-free. From the pastry shelf, I pointed towards a Canele, Matcha Canele, and Pain au Chocolat. The grand total came to $36.73 after tax - a costly café visit, yet nowhere near as outrageous as La Génie and Bonne Nouvelle.

Despite being known as a coffee roaster, it was amusing to find greater emphasis on branding and specialty lattes than coffee culture itself. The Spanish Latte and Matcha Latte emerged as the most popular picks, followed by whole bean coffee. The standard lineup of Espresso, Espresso Macchiato, Caffe Latte, and Americano had options of % Arabica Blend and Ethiopia for espresso, though all other caffeinated picks were restricted to the basic blend. That said, most didn't seem to mind, nor care, for that matter. Few patrons took to pour-overs and Americanos, and instead made a beeline for the $6.75 lattes. The occasional pastry purchase was slotted into paper bags - also stamped with the "%" logo - and heated one by one in a mini toaster.

Orders were fulfilled individually, in sequence. Our five-item bill would require approximately thirty minutes for pickup, leaving ample time for me to observe the café's operations and any fixtures of interest about the counter. Green (unroasted) beans could be found at the far end of the counter. I removed the plastic covering on both the house blend and Ethiopia beans, then leaned in for a whiff. Frankly, I wasn't sure what I was expecting, for green coffee beans are those yet to be roasted and often do not exude any distinctive aromas. A couple observing my antics followed in my lead, though was also unlikely to perceive remarkable properties.

E​ventually, one of two drinks would be transitioned to the pickup counter. The Hot Dark Latte had been left to cool to room temperature while a different barista wrapped up the Iced Spanish Latte. It was of little concern to me, for I despise scalding formulas anyway, though may be of concern to those with greater heat tolerance. The Iced Spanish Latte was delicious, but failed to leave a lasting impression. Harnessed within the 12 oz. portion was sweetness, milkiness, and a hint of caffeine in perfect harmony. Unfortunately, notes of espresso were barely discernible.

Similar comments could be extended to the Dark Latte. While rich and even slightly bitter from the comprehensive use of Valrhona, the emulsion lent itself the identity of a sophisticated hot chocolate rather than seamless mocha. Though, perhaps the most shocking revelation were the oily blobs that would collect on the drink's surface over time. I hadn't depleted the contents of the paper cup as to preserve appetite for lunch, consequently witnessing quite the grotesque appearance the morning after. Beyond espresso, milk, and chocolate, the beverage appeared to contain one more ingredient for smoothness: liquid creamer.

The impromptu stopover had resulted in approximately forty minutes of delay. Our lunch reservation at Red Lobster had been pushed till the 1 PM mark instead.
Braving the ever-imprudent local drivers of the district, we exited from the Yorkdale scene after less than two hours and slowly hobbled down Dufferin towards Orfus Road. As opposed to turning down Orfus to find Uncle Tetsu, we'd aim for a commercial plaza with rose gold panels. At the base of the building would be Red Lobster's Dufferin location.

Although joining the restaurant's waitlist hadn't been an option, an abundance of peak hour availabilities on OpenTable were indicative of their customer volumes. The humid Saturday afternoon saw merely a handful of occupied tables, mainly comprising of families with young children and elderly. The interior was, arguably, more demure than the likes of the bustling location on Burnhamthorpe, comprising of just one fish tank and paintings of boats in place of three-dimensional, nautical elements. It boasted a homey, inviting atmosphere similar to the location back home, though with tackier menus, less enthusiastic staff, and dysfunctional accessible buttons.

We were seated at one of the roomy booths along the perimeter of the restaurant. The large windows before our table offered ample illumination, along with a front row view of the tactile plates and construction fences surrounding the property's front entrance.

Sliding into seating cleaner than Petit Potato, my fingertips graced sticky menus, a greasy table, and a tri-fold promotional menu with splatters. Our server appeared shortly afterwards, sporting a polo and slicked back hair that had me doing a double-take to verify he wasn't the long lost cousin of Psy. He introduced himself as "Vincent", though we later discovered his true name via the name tag: "Winston". Initially pleasant, his demeanour grew progressively disinterested over the course of our stay, starting from the moment we had requested warm water instead of alcoholic beverages.

Given our extended absence from the franchise, it was only reasonable that our knowledge of the menu be limited - and dated. As we debated between the "Ultimate Feast", "Seafood Combinations", and standalone entrées, the inquiries had somehow brought displeasure to our server, who responded with curt answers instead of eager delivery of details. After all, front line staff members are present to ensure an amicable user experience, not instill feelings of unwantedness.

While the mains pended further discussion, a New England Clam Chowder was requested to start. The requested Cup size had rang in at $7.59, while the Bowl at $9.49. Our server insisted that the Ultimate Feast was intended as a one-person meal, emphasizing its supposed small portion. When he confirmed the Grilled Salmon to be of a 3 oz. portion though, I knew the platter would be sufficient.

The "Ultimate Feast" allowed for two choices from the Premium Selections section and two from the Classic Selections, along with one choice of side. Once again, the sides were categorized into Classic (baked potato, mashed potatoes, rice, fries, green beans, and coleslaw) and Premium at additional charges of $4.99 (mac & cheese, Brussel sprouts) and $1.99 (side Caesar salad). We took to the Grilled Salmon, 7 oz. Sirloin (with Medium Rare doneness), Shrimp Linguini Alfredo, and Garlic Shrimp. The sole side dish was upgraded to the Caesar Salad, with dressing on the side.

​Cheddar Bay Biscuits, while not clearly identified as being complimentary with the Ultimate Feast option, had been presented prior to placement of our order. The buns were just as cheesy and scrumptious as I had recalled, albeit fluffier and more crumbly than I recalled. Liberally sprinkled were parsley bits and cheese nibs, yet absent was the crunchy, golden underside. The textural difference could be owed to added baking powder (or other chemical leavener) to obtain more units from the same portion of biscuit mix.

The New England Clam Chowder and Caesar Salad would delivered at the same time, with a single shove onto the table and not a peep of an introduction from our server. "Here are your Clam Chowder and Caesar Salad!" would have been nice. It was almost as if we, innocent, non-local customers, owed him service.

A thin layer of, presumably, melted butter floated on the surface of the soup. Unlike blended soups such as Borscht or Butternut Squash, a drizzle of oil/cream is not a common addition to Clam Chowder. Its sizable morsels of clam and potato were well-received, however the formula could be declared to taste synthetic rather than creamy and savoury.

Goopy white dressing aside, the Caesar Salad was quite palatable. Crunchy croutons, fresh chopped Romaine, and a generous dusting of sharp-tasting cheese (Parmesan?) provided the much-needed daily dose of untainted greens.

The star of the show, the Ultimate Feast, arrived halfway into our starters. A piping hot and incredibly greasy plate was presented before us. Sharing plates were requested at this point, to which our server responded promptly and followed up with two shallow ceramic dishes - one of which bore dried residue from diners past.
"Ew!" I seethed at the griminess, then immediately dampened a napkin to scrub at the gunk. Under normal circumstances, I would have requested another plate. But, by this point, DIYing a solution would likely cause less of a ruckus for both parties, especially the less approachable side.

The dining experience took a turn for the positive by way of gustatory finesse. Each and every item on the platter was formidable - cooked to perfection without copious amounts of salt and pepper.

My go-to of the Shrimp Linguini Alfredo was spectacular, and just as I remembered too! The sauce was creamy without being overwhelming, while the shrimp crunchy, supple, and, most importantly, shelled for ease of consumption. Despite being a tad softer than al dente, the linguini remained chewy and bouncy, much to my liking. The dish truly hit the spot!
Grilled Salmon was another phenomenal component. The fillet was of an acceptable size, seasoned adequately, and charred on the underside for wispy, impeccably crispy skin. A wonderfully fleshy interior welcomed subsequent bites.

​Garlic Shrimp was also just as I recalled, but larger and bearing less sodium than the Burnhamthorpe location. Six pieces were partially submerged in a delectable garlic butter, shells intact.

​By far the most astouding element of the Feast was the 7 oz. Sirloin. Not one to normally lean towards Surf & Turf, the steak generated profound excitement for its stellar qualities. Both sides had been seared well, seasoned adequately (unlike Heart's obscenely salty cuts), and revealed juicy, tender cross-sections. Though the meat itself was of a leaner cut, expertise had earned elevated the round to new, exquisite heights.

​During our meal, another server had popped by to check in with us. Munching away excitedly, we acknowledged the follow-up and immediately returned to the plates before us. Winston had vanished after the arrival of the slick, ceramic plate. Meanwhile, giddiness and frequent interactions could be overhead from the table behind us.
The table's larger party also incited usage of the foldable tray holders I had grown accustomed to witnessing in my early childhood years. I regarded the apparatus with fondness and nostalgia, wistfully citing the family dinners that summoned many a smile across the table.

We skipped dessert and, in fear of our server's continued laziness, asked for takeout boxes to portion our own leftovers. Ice cream-topped chocolate cake had been featured in the sweets section of the menu, along with Chudleigh's Crostada. The teensy, flat discs, known as Apple Blossom pastries, from the Milton-based entertainment farm was a surprising listing. It wasn't my first time seeing Chudleigh's name beyond their retail store though, for it seems like they often package the treats for retail throughout the GTA year-round.

Payment was relinquished through the tableside tablet, instead of printed receipts and standalong card machines. Our server reared his head for this process, and nearly fooled us into submitting a 22% tip. Personally, even 10% was overkill for that attitude.

Nevertheless, I departed in high spirits, delighted to have relived a significant element of my childhood with delightful, seafood-based fare I had been craving so direly.

​Philippine Festival Mississauga had been on my radar for a few months, thus we swung by Celebration Square on the way back.

We arrived around 3 PM, avoiding lengthy lineups for food and just in time to witness singing of the Filipino and Canadian national anthems at the main stage.

Generally muggy, humid conditions prevented us from roaming the grounds for very long. The booths had been perused quickly, for every step led us closer to uncontrollable perspiration.

Surrounding the fountain were random clothing and accessory vendors. Food stalls were located closer to the stage, while Sponsor booths and Arts & Crafts tents in proximity to the Jubilee Garden.

In contrast to both Japan Festival and the peculiarly timed Chinese Cultural Festival, a wide assortment of sweet and savoury dishes were present at each stall. The array wasn't limited to skewers, but steamed buns, noodles, and countless variations of Halo Halo. I would also lay eyes on Filipino fusion street food (Longganisa Hot Dogs?!) and become acquainted with names such as Iskrambol and Alamang. 

The sheer expanse of food was incredible, and even more so the varied display cases, steamers, wooden buckets, and assorted contraptions present on site. There was also an impressive number of team members at each vendor booth, unlike the relatively compact crews seen at past Celebration Square festivals.

​Especially notable was the pricing: $5 skewers and Halo Halo ranging between $9.50 and $12 - the most reasonable price tags since pre-COVID!

A fellow July baby had delivered a partially disintegrated Halo Halo to my doorstep last year, but, truthfully, the icy dessert is always best when tasted fresh. Present at Philippine Festival were local eateries including Berto's, FV Foods, Grill City from Seafood City, but I meandered my way over to the most appealing booth instead.

​Jackie's Creative Cakes had traversed across the city from Scarborough to bring ensaymada, ube cheese pandesal, and more to the Mississauga community. Piquing my interest was the Ube Yema Jam, Buco Pie, and, of course, Halo Halo. The items were priced respectively at $10, $6.50, and $12, making for a grand total of $28.50. No tax was applied, despite payment by Visa. Contained within a canning jar, the Ube Yema Jam was wrapped in a single sheet of paper towel, then tightly rolled in a brown paper bag before being handed to me. Paper bags were nonexistent; thankfully I had brought along a reusable tote for the trek.

Halo Halo orders were identified by name and retrieved at the back of the booth. A tall plastic cup was bestowed upon me within minutes. Initially debating on how to enjoy the treat, we ultimately returned to the underground garage in search of air-conditioned respite. After arranging new purchases into my cooler bag, we whipped out plastic spoons and got to work.
The Halo Halo was indeed superb for beating the heat! Fine shards of ice dissolved gradually as we pried through the layers of crispy rice-topped ube ice cream, custardy flan, coconut shreds, and evaporated milk. Nearing the middle of the cup, we found a larger proportion of assorted jellies as opposed to beans, and even a handful of clear tapioca pearls. The beans in question were not kidney beans, but rather small red beans; they contributed textural contrast without excessive starchiness. Jackie's rendition was undoubtedly the best Halo Halo I've tasted since Yum's Kitchen.

The Ube Yema Jam tasted exactly as the sum of its ingredients: ube, sweetened condensed milk, and egg yolk.

Frankly, I'm unsure of its uses at this current point in time. It pairs interestingly in an Ube Genmaicha Latte, and I would presume it fair decently as a toast spread as well.

​Half of the Buko Pie slice was portioned out for the sleepy polar bear.

Regardless of sampling at room temperature or after retoasting, the specimen featured coconut flesh that was rigid instead of tender, and a filling that was less sweet and less gelatinous. Its crust was minimally flaky, unlike Purple Oven. That said, I wasn't exactly fond of the shortening used in the Purple Oven's version either.

​At long last, the pastries from % Arabica would be sampled in the evening.

The Original Canelé was formidable in all aspects. Featuring the French delicacy's signature crispy-crunchy exterior and luxurious, sweet custardy interior, % Arabica's version was exemplary, brimming with the qualities all canelés ought to possess.

With soaring expectations, the Matcha Canelé was sampled next. The tea-infused pastry was noticeably moister and less crunchy, made obvious by the tacky residue on the plate left over from severing the confectionary in half. Its interior was slightly gummy, reminiscent of the glutinous rice flour creations.

Admittedly, the matcha was fragrant without exuding exceedingly floral nor grassy vibes. The aura was near Sencha-like: delicate and delicious, and hardly intrusive on the pastry itself.

Admittedly, the matcha was fragrant without exuding exceedingly floral nor grassy vibes. The aura was near Sencha-like: delicate and delicious, and hardly intrusive on the pastry itself.

The Original Canelé had rang in at $6.50 before tax, while the Matcha Canelé at fifty cents more. I'd declare the Original to be well worth its steep price point, but the Matcha strictly warranting a one-time trial.

​Retoasted the following morning, the Pain au Chocolat was splendid in its own name. Breathtakingly flaky with oozing pockets of rich, dark chocolate, I'd hesitate not even a heartbeat before turning back for more.