Fearing growing piles of laundry and yet another TBS movie, my roommate Christina and I decided to venture out of the house and return to Tempe Marketplace, where I had just wrapped up a rather successful and fun date. Upon our arrival we agreed to have dinner at Kabuki, the Japanese restaurant on the south end. We decided to sit in the sushi bar because of the long wait, plus the very fashionable interior and pumping techno music made us feel that we were popular, in a movie, young and smooth and sexy as we waded in and out of the metropolitan crowd wearing only the finest jackets from Nordstom’s and Banana Republic, respectively, us both looking our best and hair done perfectly, turning heads with our confidence and brillance as we walked with the music and the waves of crowds parted for us, eager to let us walk past, in anticipation that we might bestow upon them our raidience and glowing sexuality and youthful vigor.
Knowing who we were and how smooth the moment, we dedicated this night to trying new things. My mojito and her mai tai were much too strong but I drank hers for her since she was driving, but it was the red snapper sashimi, which replaced my usual tuna or salmon sashimi, that made me happy. It was the discovery of the lobster roll. It was my bright green and spicy flying fish roe that crunched in my mouth. It was my octopus sashimi and the way the suckers on the tentacles felt on the inside of my lips. But finally, it was in the oyster shot: a 2-ounce shot of a raw oyster, green onion, horseradish, soy sauce, chili paste, 1 ounch of fine Japanese vodka, and a raw quail egg. Encouraged by the kitchen manager and finally offered a free shot of vodka as a chaser if I drink up and do it in one gulp, I obliged.
Now that’s fucking sushi.
Posted by sharoute 
