There’s a street in our neighborhood seems to be the epicenter of shady nightlife in the area. We just assumed it was only home to cheap back-alley strip clubs, until one night we noticed this:
A Japanese restaurant! It had lots of hand-written signs in Japanese, and looked like it was a little more authentic than a lot of the Japanese restaurants I see at home. We decided to give it a try. (Sorry Mike’s arm got in the way here…)
First up, of course, was some Asahi.
I like Asahi, but overall I’m getting a little tired of pale beer. I could go down to the Irish pub and get a pint of Guinness, but when you realize that a single pint costs more than you spend on food for two days, it just doesn’t seem like the smartest option.
Next was a block of cold tofu. I know that sounds less than appetizing, but it had grated fresh ginger, green onions, and some sesame oil. With a little soy sauce drizzled over the top, it was actually really good! The texture was a little more rustic than the silken tofu we get at home, but the flavor was more complex.
The gyoza was okay. It was a little greasy and not evenly fried, and I thought the wrappers were a little gummy. But of course I ate it anyway, because soy sauce and rice vinegar can make up for a lot.
I picked something at random from the menu, and had no idea what it was; I like to live dangerously. (Seriously, it can be dangerous in a place that loves serving liver and intestines.) What appeared before me was this giant yellow ball (and yes, that’s ketchup sliding down the side):
It was a thin layer of cooked egg, and inside were these delicious noodles! Now I just wish I had written down what it was called so I could find it again.
After finishing our food, Mike declared that we have to move to Japan immediately if not sooner. I wasn’t totally impressed by the food, but I wouldn’t mind a visit to Japan sometime in the near future.