Last night, after scarfing chicken skin and honeycomb tripe at O Izakaya with Samantha, I had a fitful sleep. I dreamt I was at the Asian Art Museum, when a 16th-century samurai costume descended from its platform and began to speak: O, Izakaya, why are you so empty? Why don’t people flood into you? You have the best yakitori in the land and likely the best ramen. Your musical choices are a fucking tragedy, but everything else about you is so, so sweet. I want to save you. I want to be inside you, while others are inside you at the same time. I can only speculate that you are struggling, but I can’t see how you are surviving.
* * *
As part of my payment for helping MSF out with the Yerba Buena event a few weeks ago, A & K offered to take me out to Aziza. I’m cashing in on that offer tonight. I’m scrambling to get my work done as the dinner hour looms, trying to stay focused on the task at hand, but all I can think of is COUSCOUS.
Oh, speaking of Yerba Buena, I dug up these photos of 1) the ridiculous amount of bread we purchased from Costco, and 2) The stocked 24′ refrigerated truck Anthony rented. Ridic.
* * *
Finally, this Saturday, I’ll be “doing a night” at MSF, ostensibly themed Mission Stoned Food. Full menu to follow, presuming I get permission. But the inverted nacho will be making its debut, as promised. Um, please come.
SUBSCRIBE?! 