Whew! Two more nights like the last one and I should be right back on Vancouver time. So, late post today. Hell, late everything.
Thanks to everyone who has offered up their thoughts, comments, and words of support re: SGU. If this truly is the end, here’s hoping that you – the best fans in fandom – join me on my next adventure/project/mangosteen-selling venture. I know you have a slew of questions, but I won’t be able to field them until I’ve returned to Vancouver and had a chance to speak with Brad and Robert who are presently also more or less incommunicado (Rob somewhere tropical, Brad somewhere military – an aircraft carrier I think it was).
On to Tokyo things…
The other night, we hit Muroi in Ginza. It`s a restaurant known for its wild mushrooms, so I made sure to have the concierge at the hotel arrange for us to enjoy a mushroom-centric meal. And, boy, did we ever. The first half dozen dishes or so were all mushroom-centered, a variety of different offerings and preparations.
We were served the above and, about partway through the dish, one of the kimono-clad waitresses leaned and said “Please, don’t eat the soup.” Ivon and I exchanged uncertain glances. Uh, why not? I may have inadvertently gotten some on my mushrooms. When we finished the last of the mushrooms, our dishes were whisked away. Seconds later, they were returned with a helping of rice and barley to help soak up the remnants of the soup. Ooooooh.
I enjoyed those first dishes but, to be honest, when I’d heard the restaurant specialized in mushrooms, I imagined the dishes would feature something else besides mushrooms (ie. mushrooms and chicken, mushrooms and fish). At a certain point in our dinner, the kindly owner admitted it had been a challenge to honor my request and prepare an all-mushroom meal. Hmmm. Clearly, we’d gotten our signals crossed. He asked if we would like to have something besides mushrooms. I could see the palpable sense of relief wash over Ivon. Yes, I told him. Something in addition to mushrooms would be great.
As we were served the fugu, the chef informed us it had taken much time to prepare. “To remove the poison,”Tomomi helpfully added.
“But there’s no actual poison,”said Ivon. “These are farmed fugu, right?”
“Oh, no,”said Tomomi. “This isn’t farmed.” Apparently, farmed fugu is for the lower end restaurants.
The meal concluded with three small savories (pasta, risotto, and rice), and two desserts. By dinner’s end, we’d enjoyed approximately twenty different plates.
A great meal and a great experience, mostly due to Muroi’s chef and owner who made us feel at ease and welcome throughout. As I told Tomomi (to tell him), my dining experience at Muroi was akin to enjoying a meal with my extended family (including, I suppose, that wonderful Japanese uncle who speaks no English but can cook and plate like no one else!).
We capped off the night with another visit to Star Bar. I’ve decided that next time I come to Tokyo, I’m just going to stay there and cut out the middleman (a.k.a. the hotel).
The next day, we met another Marcolini Girl, Kanae, for lunch at a Spanish restaurant we’d been meaning to try. Last week, we’d followed the great scent of paella up the stairs to the restaurant’s second floor digs – only to be informed they wouldn’t be open for another half hour. So, yesterday, we returned, a little later in the afternoon, to enjoy that paella. Alas, there wasn’t much enjoyment to be had. But it certainly smelled great!
Then, it was off to Midtown in Roppongi where we DID enjoy – some Henri Le Roux chocolates, some Jean-Paul Hevin macarons, and some Sadaharu Aoki desserts –
Eventually, Ivon headed back to the hotel while I paid a return visit to the Mori Arts Museum with Kanae for a second viewing of the Odani Motohiko exhibition. I took the opportunity to pre-order the special book the museum is issuing to commemorate the artist. It’ll be ready Monday, the day before we leave.
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