Out & About #939 | Cotti Coffee Again, Season 1 Finale + One More Two-Bite Brownie Trial

The end of an era always brings about an indescribable sense of apprehension. It is not quite worry and uncertainty, yet also not quite excitement and anticipation. Abstract recollections solidify themselves into filmstrips, flashing through the mind in milliseconds. These memories may be filled with fondness or frustration, delight or despair. Stepping beyond them into unfamiliar territory may be uncomfortable, but remaining stationary results in a perpetually vicious cycle.

After many weeks of contemplation, realization, and acceptance, Arctic Aquarium was concluded to have run its course. The decision had not been an easy one, and spanned many strenuous days and nights. The once dire hope that the sleepy polar bear would stay by my side was replaced with an urge to do the exact opposite: only by being apart could both sides prevent further damage.

Honestly, it was as many of my longtime companions has pointed out: "You're just so different." And I couldn't agree more:

• Where one was steadfast, the other was sluggish.
• Where one was pragmatic, the other was sentimental.
• Where one valued efficiency, the other valued harmony.
• Where one was outspoken, the other was cautious.

In spite of these drastic differences, attempts were made to reach a consensus. Alas, different communication styles amounted to misunderstandings - actions executed with good intentions but yielding poor results.
Tensions amassed, and were untreated in the face of stress and withering energy levels. It was simply just too hard.

Loss of trust ensued, as did loss of joy. The situation grew unhealthy. All came crashing down with a final blow: my straightforwardness. Perhaps we may have left these issues unspoken had I not be upfront in communicating. Perhaps we may not have come to an understanding that growth would be necessary on both sides to progress. Perhaps the outcome would have proved more dramatic had it been left to brew for a longer duration. (Do you wonder, do you wonder, do you wonder like I do?)

​We held a formal discussion, probably our most mature exchange to date. The visit was accompanied by a single slice of Apple Pie and Ube Crinkle Cookies from the freezer (the longer you freeze, the less they expand). Then I retrieved my belongings, at last pointing to the enmusubi (縁結び) obtained at Japan Festival just over a month ago. "Do you know what this symbolizes?" I posed the question.
"Love?"
"No, fate."

Leaving did not represent a lack of love, but rather acknowledged the depletion of fate - fates that would no longer intertwined.
The future is boundless though, thus I will not preclude potential in crossing paths again. But for now, Arctic Aquarium Season 1 has come to a close. As for Season 2, it may or may not ever materialize.

Meals of the week comprised of: Diana Sauce x Teriyaki Sauce Chicken Thigh leftovers + Choy Sum over Rice, Braised Daikon + Pork over Rice, Rice Noodle Rolls + Frozen Kale over Xiamen Fried Vermicelli (廈門炒米) from Congee Queen, Pig's Blood Congee + Braised Beef Brisket from Congee Queen, and Minced Pork with Eggplant + Pickled Veggie Egg Scramble with Choy Sum over Rice.

In search of a change of pace, two Big Island Poke Bowls from Ono Poke Bar were obtained via UberEats.

​My expectations were low, and thankfully exceeded. The biodegradable bowls had already begun to disintegrate at their time of arrival. I heaved a sigh of relief knowing that its included Spicy Mayo condiment had been portioned out separately, simultaneously serving to preserve structural integrity of the single-use containers and for my own lack of spice tolerance.

Generally speaking, the tuna and salmon chunks were of a decent quantity, while the spring mix and avocado segments fresh. This commentary is not to be confused with freshness of sashimi, however. Crunchy edamame and fried noodles, along with sweet corn kernels and unexpected bits of pineapple, contributed to textural contrast. None of the elements could camouflage the overall blandness of the compilation, however.
It is also worth noting that the grains of brown rice grew inexplicably rigid after a few hours of chilling, and tasted peculiar and sour when microwaved the next day. Since the trend's spike in 2016, passable poke spots are becoming progressively rarer.

Snacks of the week included Dried Pear Rings from Al Ferri and Sons, miscellaneous treats from the freezer, and an Apple Cider-Gold Rum Cocktail that confirmed its constituents were better off sampled separately.​

A trio of Custard Lava Buns (流沙包) were procured from Summit Garden, then set aside until snack time. The first two were, regrettably, overcooked during the reheating process, yielding a rigid exterior and rock-solid core. The last piece was salvaged using a gentle reheating process, restoring its plush threadiness and an oozing, indulgent centre.

I confirmed Caldense Bakery's Nata to be consistent with my recollections of years past and bottled Asahi to be inferior to draft. Quebec's twenty cent deposit came as another surprise!

Hodo Kwaja's Red Bean Hoddeok were deemed flaky and gratifying, yet less indulgent than its Brown Sugar-containing counterpart.

Tea One, revamped from a classic Chinese bakery to a fusion café with roll cakes, macarons, and croffles, emerged utterly disappointing in their poor execution of Coconut and Pineapple Buns. The bread was dense and unyielding, while the filling/topping meager and evidently loaded with milk powder.

For wine lovers those looking to dabble in the realm of ciders, Thornbury's Wildberry Elderflower Apple Cider is a great place to start. That said, I would advise against sampling the formula should one be extremely sensitive to artificial flavourings, such as myself. An icky sensation lingers on the tongue, eradicating whatever joy had been experienced during the consumption phase.

​Into the office I grudgingly went on Tuesday.

Neatly packed into my cooler tote were leftover Pear Galettes for sharing. Truthfully, I hadn't considered the reheating process in great detail: a microwave would render a mushy crust, but would reinstate warmth all the same. Upon my arrival, I was enthralled to discover a three-level toaster oven residing on the kitchen counter.

​Lunchtime marked perusal of Indigo's assortment of autumnal and Halloween-themed products. It became known to me that reusable would extend beyond just day-to-day shopping and into the realm of trick-or-treating as well.

Some shops had begun introducing holiday items to their shelves as well. Besides Lindt and Indigo, I also spotted gold-tinged décor items at H&M.

Miniso's Barbie capsule collection was also observed in-store, gracing the shelves approximately two months after the wave of feminist glee and glory. 

​Learning from last week's sixty-minute wait at Cotti Coffee, I prepared accordingly by downloading the dedicated app at home and placing a mobile order in advance of trekking towards the area. By requesting the items of desire prior to departing the office, I was able to swiftly obtain my duo of Brown Sugar Oat Latte and Stardust Oat Latte after errands at the Eaton Centre and IKEA.

My coworker and I expressed similar commentary towards our beverages. Exceptionally robust-tasting was the coffee base, though it didn't necessarily equate to jitteriness or period of high focus. The topping included in my Stardust Oat Latte had been depicted as "boba", but emerged as a brown sugar agar jelly instead of chewy tapioca pearls. This unexpected swap was, in fact, significantly more to my liking, for I had been hankering for Chicha San Chen's Agar Jelly for weeks. Preventing me from undertaking the trip to Chinatown was the franchise's steep price and an absence of sweet, milky beverages piquing my interest.

The subsequent office day was noticeably warmer. Sunrise accompanied my morning drive, paving the way for a blue-pink-orange gradient throughout the commute.

This year, National Truth & Reconciliation Day is observed by both federal and provincial levels of government, as well as banks and post offices. Yet, it is, by some odd higher order decision, not a paid holiday for municipal staff.

In honour of her birthday, one of our coworkers had brought her homemade rendition of SK's Blueberry Crumb Cake for distribution. Shock propagated through my body at the sight of a 9 in by 13 in baking pan being lifted from her insulated carrying case - the cake was still in the pan, parchment paper and all! Equipped with her own tea towel, spatula, and IKEA container (with lid), she transferred the generously portioned squares for all to savour and enjoy.

Having already eaten breakfast, I reached for the smallest square possible. It was impressively fragrant, with a comprehensively cinnamon-y streusel and an abundance of blueberries. As I began to devour the treat, we engaged in conversations about crumble toppings and combatting excessive moistness in cakes. Crumbles consisting entirely of flour, butter, and sugar often prevail too malleable for my preferences, to which she responded that a 1:1 ratio of granulated and turbinado sugar had been utilized to preserve a crisp edge. "I actually had one failed batch of streusel." She admitted. "This one is the second batch." And a delightful batch it was!

My lunch break commenced at the early hour of 12:30 PM as to accommodate the needs of my fellow colleagues.
The proposed plan would seek out three-dollar Thai Iced Tea from Nai Nai in the Village by the Grange food court. Unfortunately, the stall was found closed for a private event upon our arrival.

​Bubble tea was acquired as substitute by all but one of us - me. I vouched for a trip to Chinatown instead, partially to satisfy the needs for sustenance of other members of the tribe but primarily for the sake of preserving integrity of my just-washed treads.

Hanger is a pitiful, hideous beast. Despite evoking an easygoing attitude for most of the trek, one member of the party suddenly halted and refused to trek no more. He raised concerns over lack of food preference as well as an impending meeting, pointing fingers towards me for dragging the group further and further from the office. These needs had not been communicated to any degree, yet fault appeared to fall upon me. "You can keep walking alone. We're going back!" The tantrummy overgrown child wailed.

​Of course, continuing the excursion solo was of no detriment to me. That said, I was appalled to have my patience and good intentions undermined by the inability to think critically and respond respectfully while hungry.

​Later that evening, I attended my first Mat Pilates class in at least three weeks. The session was empowering: I exited the studio feeling reassured and significantly happier than I did for the latter half of the work day.

In an attempt to perpetuate the positive vibes, a trip to Gong Cha was made. At long last I would be graced with the presence of their QQ Grape Passion Fruit Iced Tea, sans tapioca.

​At 30% sugar, it was blander and runnier than I would have liked. The new biodegradable straws were another element of displeasure, for the jagged edges were close to slicing the edge of my lips with each sip.

​My last Two-Bite Brownie trial was painfully close to my ideal chocolatey morsel, yet still had the potential to be denser - fudgier.

Unfortunately, increasing the amount of butter did not help my case. While the batter was portioned between 14 cavities instead of my 12-count pant, they didn't bake to the concave cups I had anticipated. Despite upping the amount of liquid fat, the brownies did not become more moist. Rather, they baked quicker and emerged with a somewhat crumbly upper half.

​Baking at 360 F for 13 minutes caused a toothpick to emerge clean - the most devastating mistake with brownie-making. The specimens did not exhibit dryness, thankfully, but bore peculiar indentations on their underside. Their surfaces were not crackly; their bottoms did not adhere to the pan.

​The Farmer's Market Two-Bite Brownies remain an unsolved case in my recipe library. For now, these cakey fixtures shall be devoured. Then back to the drawing board I shall be headed.