Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Miso soup, dog legs and robot waiters.

Gosh, my blog is just so blah. I fiddled around a few weeks ago, trying to make it all pretty, but fail. Epic, epic fail. Sigh...

In other news... I dined at Nobu on Saturday night. I have always wanted to go, more because I associate the name with celebrities, rather than flacid dead sea creatures sitting on my plate waiting to be attacked with chopsticks, but alas, there were none there Saturday. Celebrities I mean; there were plenty of the latter.

There's a few things I learned from my dining experience, some of which I shall share with you.

1. Everyone - and I mean everyone - is so busy looking at the people on next table to see if they've been in any recent blockbuster videos, they can barely concentrate on conversation. I walked in, down the stairs (requiring careful navigation and excellent balancing skills as I teetered on my 5inch heels on the narrow steps, all the while trying to cover my cooch as my dress was, I fear, a little on the short side) and the heads that turned my way had nothing to do with aforementioned lady bits hanging out, it was the cursory "Do I know her?" look each new person received that night.

2. Anything covered in tempura is delicious. Carrots, pumpkin, things I'd never thought of deep frying before...delicious.

3. Speaking of delicious, all I'm going to say is 'sake'. Lots, and lots of sake.

4. The waiters were clearly cloned from some sort of eerie robot man with stellar communication skills - I have never seen anything like it in my life. First instance, a man dropped his beer and it shattered in a foamy mass all around him. Within the blink of an eye, there were 3 staff, mops in hand, whispering into their ear pieces and efficiently mopping up the spill, removing the glass and replacing another beer in the blokes hand before a waiter at another restaurant could roll an eyeball. It was creepy. Case in point: our own waiter, who happened to be some sort of European underwear model or A grade actor taking a night off, was so attentive I could barely take a sip of sake without it being replaced. And how on earth they could be so attune to the fact my miso soup bowl was still 1/4 full, when the empty one had been whisked away without even touching it to test for weight, is beyond me. Now, why can I never find a boyfriend so pyschically in tune with me?

5. There were things on that menu I would never dream of placing in my mouth. However, I tried to be adventurous, and did attempt tuna sashimi. I say attempt; I took one sniff of my handroll and nearly vomited into my magically-still-in-front-of-me miso soup. Seriously, all I could think about was how I feed practically the same thing to my cats each night, and it kind of lost its appeal.

6. Speaking of miso soup, I've worked out what it reminds me of. My dog, Phoenix. No joke: it smells like the soft furry bits on his back paws. I know, I know, I sound more mental than usual. But anyone who has a dog surely must know how nice the backs of their legs smell? Well, now you know what my dog smells like. Miso soup.

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