Now Serving Lunch; Don’t Eat Here

I’m sitting in a restaurant performing an act of bravery.  I’m eating the food they serve.  Sushi.  Raw fish.  Uncooked.  Not heated up and boiled to death.  Raw.  Cuz that’s what sushi is – raw fish.  Much of it anyway.

And yet at the front door of this restaurant, one I frequent (especially when my daughter is in residence), there is a sign warning me in huge word-processed letters (Cambria, probably, if you are wondering):


I know that.   And I count on sushi chefs to know it and handle their fish accordingly.  Yet it’s a bit unappetizing to be met with the sign at the door.

It reminds me of a Chinatown spot I saw recently, the “Eat First Restaurant.”  What could that name mean?  That it’s advisable to eat before you arrive?



Enticing, huh?


Just like it’s not advisable to eat the food at my favorite sushi place?

Life’s too sanitized.  Too litigious.  Too safe.

I’m going to sing along with Mary Chapin Carpenter, the patron saint – whether she meant to be or not —  of women stuck in the suburbs, “I take my chances.”  Woo hoo!

~ by Cary on November 3, 2009.

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