A family dinner, hibachi style
The other night Dave and I decided to go out for a family dinner. I wanted sushi but Dave and the offspring wanted chicken or steak so we decided to try a new restaurant that just opened by Jordan Creek Mall called Samurai Sushi and Hibachi since we figured they’d have something for everyone.
I was in the throes of some pretty lethal PMS (and had no business even going to a restaurant that served soy sauce) and I told Dave I hoped this wasn’t one of those places where you had to sit around a big table with people you don’t know because I wasn’t in the mood. Dave likes discussing my PMS about as much as he likes putting the Christmas lights on the roof so he told me if it was, I was just going to have to deal with it.
When we got to the restaurant the waitress led us to a table for 15 and started filling it up with people I’ve never seen in my life. Dave tried to leave a space between himself and a man I’ll call Joe Plumber but the waiter asked him to move over so they would be sitting right next to each other which is probably why Dave ordered sake immediately.
I swapped out my diet coke for a glass of wine when the waitress brought more people to the table. A woman I’ll call lady Fat Albert didn’t look very friendly and the girl sitting next to her had a stocking cap pulled down almost to her nose just like Fat Albert’s friend always did. And yes I’m going straight to hell for referring to someone as a female version of an obese cartoon character. Tell me something I don’t know. I’m sure she was equally impressed with the slightly bloated and bitchy pre-menstrual housewife sitting across from her and probably had PLENTY to say about me to her friends later.
The chef finally got the show started by lighting a bunch of cooking oil on fire right in front of us. I’m not sure I left the restaurant with all the eyebrows I came in with and I’m really glad Matthew no longer has a fire phobia because the chef was a crazy pyromaniac.
The first thing he started making after the smoke cleared was fried rice. Lauren is allergic to eggs so Dave tried to make the chef understand that he needed to leave her rice plain. A complete communication breakdown ensued that resulted in the chef taking all the eggs away while everyone at the table glared at us. Dave tried unsuccessfully to make the chef understand that he could use the eggs for everyone else’s rice but not Lauren’s. Dave then flagged down someone else and started explaining how the chef did not understand us so Dave tried to make the new person comprehend our situation and then translate. Our fellow diners did not look very happy with us and unless the employees at Samurai Sushi and Hibachi are really good at charades they probably didn’t know what the hell we were trying to tell them. Finally it looked like they understood but that didn’t stop me from checking my purse to make sure I had my epi-pen and some Benadryl handy.
The chef started cooking everything and then tried to get fancy by throwing food into everyone’s mouth. His aim was really shitty and food was bouncing off the offspring’s faces like crazy. I don’t think one single thing made it into their mouths. The chef over at Ohana Steak House is way better at that kind of thing.
Eventually the universal equalizer (liquor) kicked in and everyone started talking to each other. Lady Fat Albert was actually a single mother who worked for FEMA and was living here temporarily with her two children. They had relocated from Chicago and she told us she was very impressed with our school system and neighborhoods.
Joe Plumber was actually a single dad named James who worked as a parole officer and had adopted all 6 of his (special needs) kids on his own. One of them was with him at the table and even though he didn’t take his ear buds out the whole time we were eating he seemed like a nice kid.
Everyone complimented us on how well behaved our children were (I KNOW!) I don’t think we’re going to be exchanging Christmas cards next year or anything but it just goes to show that you should never judge people before you’ve had a chance to get to know them no matter how much fun it is.
Maybe the Japanese are onto something with their table arrangements and sake. They probably made fun of all of us once we left the restaurant. Actually they probably made fun of us while we were there since we couldn’t understand a word they were saying. But I think everyone felt a little better at the end of the meal then they did when it started.