I’m hungry. Sincerely.
Three open letters to my favorite neighborhood restaurants:
Dear Tokyo Go-Go,
I love your sushi. I love your nigori sake. I love that you’re walking distance from my house. I’m not so keen on your surly waitress or the barely chewable size of your tempura hamachi roll, which nearly prompted me to hold my hands up to my throat in the universal sign for “I am choking” the other week. But I forgive you your foibles and will return soon to dine and watch Godzilla movies on your wall.
Dear Ti Couz,
Hi! It was so great to see you on Sunday! You’d think after a week in Holland and France I wouldn’t want anything remotely resembling a crepe, but you’d be wrong! Who wouldn’t want a tasty tomato, cheese and caramelized onion crepe, plus one of your delicious special salads? Plus, kir royale! Oh, Ti Couz, you are the perfect cure for jetlag.
Where shall I begin, my flower? Your decadent coffee. Your delicious morning buns. Your line — so daunting at first glance, yet so quickly moving. If only you were not so wanton in your affection, perhaps I might more often sit within your warm embrace. Alas, you often coldly relegate me to take-out, but I keep coming back for more! You vixen! My heart is yours.