Being a New Yorker sometimes you don’t realize how many different kinds of great food you have in an area until you move to a new place. Which I’m sure this is the case for many people from a great many places as well. I love Living in my new hometown of St. Louis but sometimes I miss some of the creature comfort’s of the comfort food I had available . So in my case I decided to make it myself, to which I’m Thoroughly pleased with the results.
I had a nightmare about sushi last night. It involved a Ginger wasabi monster. The creature thought it was necessary to chase me down 10th street in the “The Village”, throwing kung-fo stars of sharpened soy sauce packets (idk how monster boy sharpened them its a dream lol). I was only able to get away by hurling open packets of amazing fresh smelling, pre-moistened wipes at it. It herkt and jerked and throughly disliked them to death. As it withered the beast screamed its death cry of (in japanese mind you); “Aww Fudge!!”. Which is a big deal in Japanese food monster circles, because they really don’t have a big sweet tooth. Sure they have big teeth thats not even disputable. Sure they could rip the ass out of passing bullet train or bus. All I’m saying is that when they come knocking on your door to go springy springy on your mortal coil they won’t be doing it licking a lolly. They just don’t roll like that. I woke in a sweat from this bad bad dream, hungry for sushi baby. Bring it monster!
Went to NYC for some wandering and a little photograhy. While walking around I developed a strong desire for sushi. I was in the village near Astor Place, which these days is a cornucopia of Japanese resturants and sake bars. I took my phone out and thought I try my new app called Yelp. Should have called the app welts, On account thats what my taste buds felt like they had after eating there. According to the app it had high marks from other devotees of the app. I walked in the empty restaurant (first hint to run) and was greeted by frowning stares from all that worked there (second hint). I looked down to see if my fly or shoelaces had given up the ghost, but all was well in my little fashon world. I sat down at the sushi bar. I then put my Dale Carnegie reading to the test. Using my best people skills I wowed the three Designated sushi makers with warm hello. The glaze over the three pairs of eyes that stared back at me seemed unaffected by my greeting. I should have stuck with the Michelin app
I can’t eat it. The word I’m looking for to describe it rhymes with Ducks, and that’s exactly what I should have done. Just like the school kids in the fifties. Do you remember the nuclear propaganda commercial called “Duck and Cover”? When it came to this place I should have Ducked, Covered, and rolled on down the road.. I learned a big lesson. When people from the wait staff to the sushi chefs who actually make your food, glare at you like you just stole their little sister’s soul; the sushi ain’t gonna be grand.
Dessert, a glass of plum wine. It was the only thing else I liked, that wasn’t tainted by the bad mojo the chefs were garnishing the sushi with.
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