Just in time for my last-minute feeding on all things quintessentially nihon.
Here’s to the next million, and the next, and the next…
I’ve been waiting, patiently, for three years – it’s not just the don itself that I desire, it’s the ability to stroll into the little shop with the orange sign and cramped seating 24/7 and know that my little mound (read: ? and only ?) of heavenly stewed beef topped with a raw egg is instantly and inexpensively available for me, and only me, me, me. Okay, that last part is flexible, I’ll share with you, because you’re speeeecial. Let’s gyu.
UPDATE: On the other side of the spectrum lies shit beneath one’s contempt. Like a “Trout Burger“. That’s the most ironic fish-related term since “delicious bass.”
Just for the record, this article hit me hard because I am Rainbow Trout Nazi. I hereby proclaim the One True Way regarding preparation of rainbow trout: Lightly breaded and pan fried, drizzled with fresh lemon juice – this is because rainbow trout meat is inherently mushy. Wrapped in basil and watercress? Crispy miso? That sounds like a euphemism for shit-stained BVDs. Hey yo, fuck a trout burger. Seriously.