ManThing left today to attend a day-long bachelor party, and since the Dog puts on the “Woe is Me” Show every time her daddy’s gone, I decided the lesser of two evils would be to go shopping the last weekend before Christmas. In order to make this harrowing task more tolerable, I decided to bribe myself with a sushi lunch.
Instant endorphins, in raw fish form. Ahhhh.
Finding out that my first choice doesn’t serve lunch on Saturdays either (you suck for that, Blue Fish), I went to the contingency plan: Mr. Sushi. In stark contrast to the uber-hip, pretty people atmosphere of Blue Fish, Mr. Sushi is a mom-and-pop operation. I think it may have been “mom” who showed me to the table. There wasn’t anything outwardly noteworthy about her appearance, except for her eyebrows.
They were completely drawn on, and they were…purple. I tried not to stare. Too hard. I think I at least managed not to have my mouth hanging open.
Once at the table, I pulled out the sushi order sheet, and started putting down the old standards; one order each of fresh salmon, white tuna, yellowtail, and smelt egg. Each of these were around $6.50 for two pieces. ManThing and I had tried toro for the first time when we ate sushi last, so I decided to get an order of it as well. It was at market price, but I figured, eh, can’t be too much higher than the others, and put it down. Shortly afterward, I look at their specials board, and see that toro is $12.00, for two pieces. Oops.
When my order arrives, I pull my travel bottle of wheat-free soy sauce* out of my purse, and pour it into the little dish to mix with the wasabi. All the while, I’m getting curious glances from the Chinese lady at the table next to me. (I’m not being non-PC by not calling her “Asian,” she was speaking Chinese, thankyouverymuch.) At Mr. Sushi, when they bring you the bill, it’s always accompanied by a little origami paper boat with dinner mints in it. When this woman received her bill, she started fidgeting with the boat. I was preparing to be impressed as I watched her shaping the paper into something that seemed to have ears, and then magically became…a paper boat again. Another stereotype down the drain. When I got my bill, it was nearly forty dollars with the tip. Oops again.
That’ll teach ManThing to go to another all-day bachelor party.
*If you want to know why I carry my own travel bottle of wheat-free soy sauce, go see my other site.