Osaka.
The perfect marriage of heritage and keeping on.
All hype and maybe a little flare of ‘oh’. A thousand bucks, all in. Good for 3 to 4 moderate appetites. A swipe of the card and never again.
I’m obsessed with them. Not as far as doing cosplay, but I’d eat anything Japanese.
Yes, anything. Raw, cooked, grilled, schoolgirls, ramen.
-Kix
Because I can’t understand them, I find myself intrigued almost to the point of obsession. To wear their skin over mine and pretend I was one of them was not far off my consciousness, but I had to settle for this because quite obviously it wouldn’t be ethical to do so.
If authenticity was in question, it would be pretty apparent with all the Japanese men around that the place was — or at least closer to how it should be. Simple honest cooking at prices rather reasonable. Satisfied and full the only thing logical to do next is head home, auto-pilot straight to the bedroom ending in a full-face dive on the bed for a good night’s sleep.
-Kix
Tong Yang.
It was satisfying, not in any way impressive - but no one ever complains about bottomless beer. At 500 bucks all in, mediocre sushi, fresh seafood, meat and beer were all at your whim. By the end of the meal, you just realize what hell you got yourself in to. Just skip the sundaes if you decide to go for the beer.
Xiao Long Bao.
Sometimes it’s better when boundaries aren’t pushed, when tradition is kept constant. The familiarity of it all comes off comforting and nourishing, being essentially what it’s supposed to be. And by no means does this imply an amateur grasp of skill in the art form but rather a remarkably innate sense of ease in the way of execution.
