So much for sushi

I've gotten Brooke to expand her gastronomical horizon in recent months and have successfully gotten her to incorporate sushi into her regular dining repertoire. At first it was baby steps, just something simple like the California roll -- certainly nothing raw. Slowly, though, she's begun to open her mind and will now eat the fresh tuna or salmon, but still can't bear the thought of the masago. Admittedly, after years of using salmon eggs as trout bait, it's a tough one for me to swallow as well, but my tastes mature.

To our delight, a new sushi/oriental restaurant opened just a few blocks from our house about three months ago. We hadn't tried it -- it looked like the all-too-familiar strip center "Golden Dragon" or "Hong Kong Chef" where the house special is takeout sweet and sour pork -- until I read a review in the weekly free paper that told of the chef's elite west coast experience. So we tried it. The food was really good. The lack of English skills by the staff proved difficult at times, but ultimately we thought it added to the authenticity of the place. The kids liked the sesame chicken, while we really thought the sushi was marvelous. We were even treated to a "baby geiko" on the house. It instantly became a favorite, although we still had to order it "sans masago." Another benefit of this place, besides its location and great food and value, was that it was nearly empty. And anyone with kids our age knows what a great benefit this is -- no worry of bothering other diners. This would prove shortsighted in the end.

We returned several times, each time trying something new along with a favorite. I suppose we saw the handwriting on the wall. The empty or near empty tables at 7 on Saturday. The sudden lack of straws. The equally sudden reappearance of straws that I think came from Subway.

We felt bad. I wanted these guys to succeed. We told friends about the place. Here we have people taking risks, coming to America, working hard. This was the American dream. If our own population would get off their duff and work this hard at something besides getting food stamps, our economy wouldn't be in decline. But, alas, it was not to be. We loaded up the SUV last Saturday and made our way to (very literally) "our sushi place". Locked. Tables gone. Gabe, who had only moments earlier when told where we were going commented on how they have the "very best chicken," broke down and lost it, as he is well known to do when something familiar in his world disappears. We settled for Mexican and it just wasn't the same.