I have to compromise with a boyfriend who doesn’t see the point in Valentines Day by suggesting smoothly that a booking at our favorite special-occasion restaurant wouldn’t hurt. Sakura is a Japanese restaurant that lends itself easily to accusations of food porn: luscious, thick pieces of the freshest pink salmon sashimi, sliced exactly so and separated by adorable tiny pieces of lemon. Each slice was doused in excess amounts of soy sauce and wasabi and washed down with a Victorian sauvignon blanc. And as is our custom, we ordered dish after dish to share; Teriyaki wagyu beefsteak melting away from our forks, the tiniest pieces of raw tuna in raw egg and sesame to pick at and fight over, thin slices of beef tataki, and the softest crab dumplings that I get to keep all to myself because of Dan’s lack of like for crab. Our variety of dipping sauces was at the ready, and splashed eagerly all over the table. We were so lost and forlorn when we realised that no more dishes were to be brought out, that we ordered our everyday favorite — gyoza — which easily spanked the usual fare from Sushi Train, five delicious crescents of the tastiest, delicate balance between soft and lightly crispy.
Then there was the realisation that any V-Day evening can be made a gazillion times better with a surprise showing of Jay And Silent Bob Strike Back on late-night TV, which overall is made even better with the adding of yet another glass of vanilla vodka. And the soft comfort of knowing that I am sharing this rainy evening with an awesome boy who will find these kind of pursuits as entertaining as I.
didn’t realise you would be reviewing our evening