My hands are dry from washing dishes. Dishpan hands. Why am I washing dishes when I just bought a perfectly good dishwasher? That’s another story.
I’m at a restaurant near the house – Hanabi. It’s like an Oki’s or any other Japanese habachi (where they throw the food around and cook in front of you) with a sushi bar.
The folks are nice here. All smiles and “how are you today?” Which is a nice change of pace from what you’d find back east… I’ve found that it’s pretty much true across the board here – people are just nice. They smile. Maybe it’s something in the air.
The fish is good here. The rice is a little crunchy, but has good flavor. And the sake is yummy. Cedar something. Cold. Dry. Delish.
I’m sitting at the sushi bar and there are lots of oohs and aahs coming from behind me, coupled with the sharp sound of the knife against the hot cook surface. I can smell the cooking oil from here.
One of the great things about sitting at the sushi bar is that if you’re lucky, you get treats. I got one. The sushi chef, seemingly a little bored, made me a little something ‘just for me’. I bet that’s what he tells all the girls. But it was hands-down the best thing I ate tonight. A little tomatoey a little garlicky, a little spicy, it was white tuna wrapped around cucumber with the tomato-garlic-spicy sauce. Yummy! Tasty treats for me.
The bill is a little high, and now I stink like I just ate Italian up the hill (I’m sorry, if you don’t understand the reference, you must not be from RI), but it was goooood. If my food buddy Arianne ever gets out here, she’ll be happy with the fare.
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I’m home now, prone on the couch: the sake kicked my ass. I’m not a very good drinker. One and I’m toast. Two and I’m VERY friendly. Three and there’s trouble.
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