Vale, Vancouver | DAY 5

It isn't uncommon for West Coast winter mornings to be dreary and overcast. That said, when paired alongside dusty construction sites and constant drizzles, the sight quickly grew depressing - sickening, even.

I was hesitant to set foot into the outside world, until the skies began to clear around lunchtime. We deemed it fitting to venture out for a mid-day meal, gleefully soaking in the rare sunny blue skies.

​McArthur Glen Outlet featured some of the best - and perhaps only! - Christmas décor in the vicinity. The installations ranged from nutcracker figures to poinsettia orbs to garlands edged with shiny, scarlet spheres identical to those adorning the strangely symmetrical tree.

Parking was also less troublesome than I had envisioned; the expansive asphalt lot offered plenty of options in the proximity of the main entrance as well as the Templeton SkyTrain station.

​After marvelling at the lofty tree at the outlets' southerly section, I led the way to Japadog. Well aware was I of the franchise's long-awaited GTA opening in the Square One food court, however I saw lack of reason to commit to paying 13% HST when only 5% PST was required in its place of origin.

​We sauntered into a quiet dining area. At seeing our inquisitive faces gazing at the menu above, the cashier aggressively waved us closer to the order counter. He insisted that the tabletop version provided a better overall view of the menu without having to strain one's neck upward. We disagreed, for the font on the laminated menu was tiny and further did not include the complete selection of beverages and specials.

I was eager to request the Sleeman Honey Brown Lager, the variety that seemed to be perpetually unavailable at Gyu-Kaku. The cashier, a middle-aged Chinese-speaking man, glanced at me in horror. "Who's drinking?" He pointed towards me. "Not you right?!"
"Me." I responded with widened eyes and a hint of surprise.
"I thought you were sixteen!" Initially anxious, he straightened himself out. "I'll need to see some ID." His disbelief continued until laying eyes on my clearly-not-BC-issued document.
Although I was somewhat flattered, I couldn't help but conclude his age-determining judgement to be somewhat poor. It is undeniable that teenagers these days lean towards a mature appearance. That said, nearly a decade of loathsome corporate work later, I had assumed that the faint wrinkles forming around my face were indicative enough of the adult life struggle.

And so, I got my bottled Honey Brown. The cap was removed for me, as the man feared I'd depart the eatery with the bottle in hand. "You must finish it here! And don't drive!" came the further cautioning.

​My collective alcohol-purchasing experiences over the years have confirmed that it is always pricier to purchase as a consumer from a liquor store than to order alcohol in a restaurant setting due to BC's tax regulations. It is a sharp contrast to Ontario, where a single beer can ring in at $16-$19 after tax and tip in a dining setting versus $3-4 at LCBO.

​When it came to choosing our mains, we evaluated the menu with scrutiny. Their original hot dogs have tried to death by this point, so we looked towards their other offerings: Wagyu Menchikatsu and Yakisoba.

​Also appended to the order was a Yuzu Lemonade for a dose of refreshing zestiness. The pricey ($7.14!) pick exceeded expectations by being well-balanced in profile, devoid of the cloying yuzu jam sold in jars at T&T, and boasting bits of yuzu zest for textural interest.

Despite the Side Yakisoba being listed as a "Veggie" item on the menu, there was a hidden option to swap to a Yakiniku Yakisoba at no extra charge. The resulting platter was plentiful for sharing and comprised of wonderfully smoky beef strips and minimal greasy cabbage pieces. Approximately one third of the container was fitted with protein, while flavourful yakisoba and shredded bonito flakes filled the rest. The noodles were astoundingly delicious, and notably less greasy than other establishments sampled to date.

​A 3pc Takoyaki with Wasabi Mayo sets us back $6.28. The visuals were more or less identical to four years prior, save the different container and side order unit count reduction (six to three). I enjoyed the generous squeeze of wasabi mayo, as I always do, and bit into the sphere without restraint. The interior was scalding, as one would imagine. Beneath the crisp exterior was a soft, fluffy batter and a single piece of octopus. Extremely attentive from start to finish, the cashier even approached us to provide additional mayo packets, should we require them.

Incredibly interesting was No. 14 Wagyu Menchikatsu. Described as a "minced beef cutlet with umami sauce", one would likely envision a thin slab of beef enrobed in a thick, starchy layer of breading. At least, that was my perception based on the tendencies of Toronto eateries.
However, the Menchikatsu was remarkably scrumptious, maintaining exemplary balance of heartiness, depth, and texture. Oval in shape and coated with an extremely thin layer of katsu breading, the patty provided a substantial amount of protein with an adequate amount of condiment and crunch. Similarly satisfying was the bun, which was toasted lightly to hold its shape during consumption. A soft interior limited shatter radius and provided traction of the breaded patty.
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Overall, I was impressed with the specimen, and even more amazed that the entire spread was successfully depleted in one sitting. Of course, the bottle was returned to the cashier, as he had comedically mandated.

Appetites appeased, I led the way to The North Face. Undoubtedly my favourite - and possibly only worthwhile - retailer in the vicinity, the outdoor apparel shop did not disappoint.

​While the Sample Sale rack had vanished from the central area, summer clearance marked at 70% off persisted as a fabulous deal. I also obtained a lightweight waterproof jacket at 40% off, making it only $40 more than my barely water repellant "city cycling rain jacket" from Decathlon.

​We strolled some more. I was compelled by the expanse of couverture at Lindt, along with their larger-than-life size advent calendar. Alas, regrettably unfeasible it would be to bring either back with me.

Against my better judgement, an afternoon pick-me-up was sought from trees at the new Capstan Way SkyTrain station.

I swerved into the ̶c̶h̶a̶o̶s̶  Macu Tea parking lot and undertook the short trek on foot. Fresh concrete sidewalks, planters, paver stones, a new transit stop, and even an in-boulevard cycle track had been placed and finished since my last visit. The progress of privately-led construction projects in Richmond are fascinating to observe, for while I find the West Coast to be sluggish and unprofessional, their revenue-generating ventures often outshine any vague attempt at transit improvement in Toronto. (From TTC reliability to Metrolinx's unrealistic ambitions, it would be an understatement to say that we've long lost faith in the public transportation claims.)

​The location of trees was ideal for transit riders. Commuters could easily pick up a coffee before commencing their morning journey or unwind with a latte and pastry before heading home. Unfortunately, the café's steep prices reflected this very advantage. After all, there was no competition on the premises.

Unknown to me at the time of visit, trees was a chain known for organic coffee and cheesecake. I dabbled in neither of these categories, craving a milky concoction instead. A Black Sesame Latte with Oat Milk was requested, setting me back $5.58 plus a wretched $0.95 for the milk alternative.

The cashier appeared hesitant, while the barista none too happy with my order, even casting a scornful gaze while preparing my order. Her despicable attitude revealed itself further when I requested the bathroom code (1477 at the time of the experience), barely looking up and rather responding in a mutter-grumble of sorts.

Located at the rear of the establishment, the single accessible stall was spacious, but unthinkably basic. The paper towel dispenser was an element straight from a 2000s middle school bathroom: the box shape with teeth and brown paper towels. I couldn't believe that the automatic or push lever-based versions hadn't been selected in this day and age, especially with such costly offerings. The garbage bin adopted an identical aura.
The floor was grimy as well, which was absurd given that ground conditions were dry and customers were absent at our time of visit.

​My Black Sesame Latte was ready when I emerged from the stall. Its foamy surface and muted grey visual was a bit disappointing, as if foreshadowing what was to come.

​Frankly speaking, the beverage was awful. Abhorrently bland with fragments of black sesame (powder? seeds?) residing at the bottom of the cup, one could perceive the presence of oat milk and nothing more. Absent was the coveted nuttiness, luxurious mouthfeel, and toasty qualities associated with black sesame. trees was ridiculous for charging an arm and a leg for excessive mediocrity.

​Maybe I had done the café an injustice for choosing outside their signature duo. Regardless, the drink, washroom facilities, and service all contributed to an unspeakable letdown.