What I learned this weekend:
You shouldn’t eat Japanese food and Mexican food within an hour of each other.
Understand, I’m not saying you can’t eat these two unique cuisines between ticks of the hour hand, I’m just saying that it isn’t a suggested practice.
The whole thing went down like this. Dinner plans had been made with friends at a local sushi place that we frequent for its Dollar Sake Night. Even if you are not a fan of sushi, I assure you that Dollar Sake Night will be enjoyed. They do not give you a shot of sake for a dollar, but a small carafe. Three or four dollars into the evening, you will be ready and willing to eat just about anything.
I speak from experience when I tell you that octopus chews about as easily as a used car tire.
Anyway, since the rice, seaweed and tempura-encrusted sea urchin rarely fills me up, we decided to have a hearty lunch with another set of friends.
The decision was made to get Mexican food near our house, so we watched some Food Network programming and waited for our friends to arrive.
And, we waited.
Waited some more.
Wondered just how much olive oil a person could ingest in a half an hour while we waited.
Got really freaking hungry as we continued to wait for our “friends” who couldn’t seem to get to our house at the planned time and instead showed up about four hours late.
We skipped the pleasantries when our friends showed up and instead shoved them right out the door and headed to the restaurant. (I think they just had a baby or something. I had a pretty heavy hunger headache and don’t really remember.)
Once there, I ordered the fattest burrito on the menu and scarfed down corn chips like a rabid dog takes on a new bone. We ate our food quickly and without much conversation.
Our friends were still fiddling with their new stroller or whatever it was when we had to leave for the second phase of what was now going to be a very long dinner.
In hindsight, it might have been mixing the margarita with the sake that turned my stomach upside down that night, rather than just the food. Quantity may have been an issue as well, since I didn’t have much room for the food and instead kept myself busy with the drinks.
At any rate, I think the experience proved two things. One, it’s good to be experimental in life and open to new cuisines. Two, there’s no need to be a diplomat and try cramming two cultures together that have no need to co-exist.
Now, if you’ll please pass me the whiskey. Tonight belongs to the Irish.