Ginza, River North

Avoidance. I practice avoidance a lot. Which is how I found myself going to see Bridesmaids by myself (I wasn’t the only one), massaging the chairs at Room & Board by myself, and then helping myself to the sushi at Ginza, all by myself. (I wasn’t the only person alone here either.) Clearing the head, I was. And so too a lot of other people.

Something I love more than anything…gomae. Especially when it’s full of obvious sesame, like this was. Japanese dishware too…can’t get enough.

I kept things simple with a platter full of soft and buttery sashimi. The Japanese MBA next to me praised my traditional choice. He had entered shortly after me and engaged in a lengthy conversation with the sushi chef. All I heard over and over again was “omakase” and “omakase.”

“What did you say?” I asked.

“I told them I want real Japanese food. Nothing Americanized,” he said.

“No volcano rolls for you then, huh?”

“No. Definitely not.”

I stared in fascination as he was brought beautiful dish after beautiful mysterious dish, all in lovely porcelain. Ordering tip for next time, then. Shoulda taken photos.

The Verdict: I like the food at Ginza. A lot. But the atmosphere leaves something to be desired. It’s like your eating in someone’s basement…a basement that hasn’t been refinished in 30+ years and has that slightly damp smell. It’s cluttered and worn and not very well-organized. But I still plan on going back. Many times.