Tabemassho!

Mr. Max no nihonshoku wa zutto oishii to omoimasu kara, ashita no bangohan wa sugoi desu. Soshite, restauran wa seikaku desu. Watashi wa edamame to oyakodon o haraimashita.

Okay, how badly did I butcher that? I can't remember most of my Japanese, but I think what I tried to say was "Because, I think, Mr. Max's Japanese food is the best evar, I had a really awesome dinner yesterday. Also, the restaurant is authentic! I had edamame and oyakodon."

Can anyone correct my cobweb-ridden Japanese language memory? That seriously translates like a high school "how I spent my summer vacation" essay. Oi.

Last night I discovered a delicious restaurant in Irving called Mr. Max. You walk in and it's almost like transporting yourself to Japan; to the little ramen shop nestled between the business hotel and the depaato. For parties of 4 or less, seating is available at the counter, and if you have a group, you can sit on the floor (they have an option for putting your feet under the table). The cook is Japanese, as is the wait staff, and they even have a small karaoke room if you care to partake! Be warned, however, that all the songs are Japanese.

No white person's journey to an authentic Japanese restaurant would be complete without a white board full of Japanese language daily specials, and the overwhelming feeling that everyone is staring at you. I assume this is for two reasons:

1. Why the hell is a white person coming into a tiny place like this when there is a Chili's down the street?
2. Let's make their experience that much more authentic by making them feel like they are actually foreigners and this is actually Japan.

In spite of the eyes-staring-at-the-back-of-your-head effect, the place was quite delicious, and if it wasn't in Irving, I'd go more frequently. In fact, if they transported it downtown, I'd eat there for lunch every single day. EVERY SINGLE DAY. Actually, come to think of it, I imagine the reason they stared so much was because of the following conversation:

Waitress: Here's your oyakodon.
Me: This looks amazing. Arigatou gozaimasu
Waitress: do you want a spoon?
Me: *looks confused* No no, chopsticks are fine.
Waitress: *stares from distance*
Me: *picks up bowl to eat*
Restaurant staff: *jiiiiiiiii~* (stare noise)

Yeahhhhhh.

Anyway, I can't remember the rest of what I was going to type, so here's a badass music mashup. I can't describe it any better than the title of the blog post from whence it came "I've just been falcon punched in the ear." Ciao!

Super Mash Bros. - Meet Me At Fantasy Island