some restaurants come and go but hibachi is forever

Since I was 12 years-old, I’ve had the same favorite restaurant.

I wish I could tell you it’s a Mario Batali restaurant like Lupa or Babbo.

But it’s just this Japanese hibachi place in Connecticut called Sakura. In fact, I’m pretty hibachi obsessed. Something about the sauces and the sodium and way grown adults fling themselves all over the table trying to catch a piece of flying shrimp. There really is no superior dining experience.

Where else can you get a 3 course meal (soup, salad and tasty entree) and get in and out of there in an hour? And I like the communal dining. Sort of like a beer hall except everyone sips Kirin Lights and green tea. It’s fun to watch other people’s dining habits without actually having to speak to them.

And at least my favorite restaurant isn’t the Olive Garden (Oh you know who you are).

So Rick and I decided to take all four kids to hibachi over the weekend.

The girls got kind of whiny in the car so Rick came up with this really innovative, creative car game.

“GIRLS. STOP WHINING. JUST LOOK OUT THE WINDOW AND COUNT CARS.”

Dylan refused, saying there was way too many to count. And Summer was too busy whining to actually hear Rick.

We finally got to the restaurant and sat down. Another couple soon joined us and I can only imagine their delight at sharing a table with two babies, a 3 year-old and a 5 year-old.

Although the chef’s antics are really geared toward Dylan and Summer’s ages, Harlowe was riveted by the performance.

I wanted her to catch a shrimp in her mouth because we’d be able to tell everyone that the first food she every tried was a flying hibachi shrimp. But apparently you’re supposed to start babies on cereal or something.

On the way home, I said to Rick…

“I’m feeling a bit gassy.”

“Yes, I’m feeling somewhat gassy myself. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. But it’s a good gassy.”

“Oh definitely a good gassy.”

The kind of gassy that can only come from a satisfying hibachi dinner.