Aventures avec la cuisine japonaise.
"When your heart says don't, the French say, "do!"
- "Paris Holds the Key to Your Heart," from the film Anastasia
Before I start off with another anecdote, let me say a big howdy to Sciathan_File, whom some of you on the flist may already know, whose writings I've been reading for a while and who writes better than I ever could then again, that is kind of why she is in uni... I mean just writing, not the fanfic, LOLZ.
Yesterday two of my friends and I went shopping in the Passy area of Paris ("tres, tres cher," as I was later told by my host mother) but by the time my friend Rachel and I met up with our friend Joanne (or as I call her, "Other Joanne"), we were all a tidge hungry, so we went to go look for something to eat instead like I could afford anything not edible in Passy anyway. We went back and forth, looking for the best bargain (Paris is making me broke) until finally we gave up and got suckered into eating at a Japanese restaurant because we thought the sushi train was cool.
I thought this was hysterically funny (and told the other girls so) because we were three Asian American girls (one Chinese, one Korean and one Filipino) eating at a Japanese restaurant IN FRANCE, of all places, just because of a stupid sushi train... not to mention that the last of the three (i.e. me) is a rabid Franco-Japanophile. I don't know about the other two girls, but I've been dreaming of France for so long that I've almost moved on to obsessing over another country...
There was an interesting mix of people in the restaurant; there were two Asian-looking chefs, and an Indian or North African-looking female chef (I can't remember which, but i remember she was very tan), us three Asians in a row, lots of Ethnic (i.e. white) French people (including a cute little blond boy around five who sat next to me), an African maitre d' working the cash register, a Japanese family on the other side of the restaurant (my friends commented on the cuteness of a Japanese kid in France and the first thing I thought was "ZOMG TAMAKI!"... Yes, I am sad.) and a REALLY cute, pierced, bespectacled, possibly French-Japanese waiter who served our side of the sushi train (oh, the Filipino obsession with halfies).
So we ate, worrying about money the entire time ("We just ate another Euro," the other Joanne said with each bite of sushi) and ended up spending more than we originally planned for. (FACEPALM) We took forever to eat because we kept looking at the colours of the plates (white was 3 Euro; green was 4 Euro; red was 5 Euro; and black was 6 Euro). After I'd waited an aeon to decide on a 4-Euro dish of 6 California rolls and finally decided to take it, a 3-Euro dish of the same thing rolled by. The supreme irony in this is that I'd refused to spend 5 Euro for a reasonably large sandwich and ended up paying eleven Euros for ten pieces of sushi, half a sashimi salad (that I split with the other Joanne because she accidentally grabbed a six-euro dish off the train and started freaking out) and half a seaweed salad that I split with Rachel because she doesn't eat much at a time to begin with. Eleven Euros is almost fifteen US dollars, which is probably the most I've ever spent on sushi EVER. None of it was ootoro, although they did have it on the menu; I thought about it, but decided to wait and see if I'd ever make it to Japan before trying ootoro. Then again, Other Joanne said that it was a nice change from regular cafe food like crepes and sandwiches, which is pretty much all we can afford as students, and none of us had eaten sushi in a long time anyway.
Plus, we got a cute waiter in with our check. And free arare at the counter. And full stomachs, for what it's worth.
And apparently I love run-on sentences and digressions.
And sentence fragments.
- "Paris Holds the Key to Your Heart," from the film Anastasia
Before I start off with another anecdote, let me say a big howdy to Sciathan_File, whom some of you on the flist may already know, whose writings I've been reading for a while and who writes better than I ever could then again, that is kind of why she is in uni... I mean just writing, not the fanfic, LOLZ.
Yesterday two of my friends and I went shopping in the Passy area of Paris ("tres, tres cher," as I was later told by my host mother) but by the time my friend Rachel and I met up with our friend Joanne (or as I call her, "Other Joanne"), we were all a tidge hungry, so we went to go look for something to eat instead like I could afford anything not edible in Passy anyway. We went back and forth, looking for the best bargain (Paris is making me broke) until finally we gave up and got suckered into eating at a Japanese restaurant because we thought the sushi train was cool.
I thought this was hysterically funny (and told the other girls so) because we were three Asian American girls (one Chinese, one Korean and one Filipino) eating at a Japanese restaurant IN FRANCE, of all places, just because of a stupid sushi train... not to mention that the last of the three (i.e. me) is a rabid Franco-Japanophile. I don't know about the other two girls, but I've been dreaming of France for so long that I've almost moved on to obsessing over another country...
There was an interesting mix of people in the restaurant; there were two Asian-looking chefs, and an Indian or North African-looking female chef (I can't remember which, but i remember she was very tan), us three Asians in a row, lots of Ethnic (i.e. white) French people (including a cute little blond boy around five who sat next to me), an African maitre d' working the cash register, a Japanese family on the other side of the restaurant (my friends commented on the cuteness of a Japanese kid in France and the first thing I thought was "ZOMG TAMAKI!"... Yes, I am sad.) and a REALLY cute, pierced, bespectacled, possibly French-Japanese waiter who served our side of the sushi train (oh, the Filipino obsession with halfies).
So we ate, worrying about money the entire time ("We just ate another Euro," the other Joanne said with each bite of sushi) and ended up spending more than we originally planned for. (FACEPALM) We took forever to eat because we kept looking at the colours of the plates (white was 3 Euro; green was 4 Euro; red was 5 Euro; and black was 6 Euro). After I'd waited an aeon to decide on a 4-Euro dish of 6 California rolls and finally decided to take it, a 3-Euro dish of the same thing rolled by. The supreme irony in this is that I'd refused to spend 5 Euro for a reasonably large sandwich and ended up paying eleven Euros for ten pieces of sushi, half a sashimi salad (that I split with the other Joanne because she accidentally grabbed a six-euro dish off the train and started freaking out) and half a seaweed salad that I split with Rachel because she doesn't eat much at a time to begin with. Eleven Euros is almost fifteen US dollars, which is probably the most I've ever spent on sushi EVER. None of it was ootoro, although they did have it on the menu; I thought about it, but decided to wait and see if I'd ever make it to Japan before trying ootoro. Then again, Other Joanne said that it was a nice change from regular cafe food like crepes and sandwiches, which is pretty much all we can afford as students, and none of us had eaten sushi in a long time anyway.
Plus, we got a cute waiter in with our check. And free arare at the counter. And full stomachs, for what it's worth.
And apparently I love run-on sentences and digressions.
And sentence fragments.