Monday, 11 February 2008

Dinner, Saturday 9 February 2008

Chinese place on the east side of higashi-oji dori between the railway line and mikage-dori

Suitably filthy noodle den with hunched, jacketed types reading comics. Ramen noodles aren't eaten with a spoon, so it would be incorrect to call it a greasy spoon, and in any case why single out spoons when it could equally be called a greasy wall or a sticky counter?

More or less the same, then, as every other grotty chive-reeker in the country. Except that the moment I walked in the man in the ghetto-blaster (greasy) on the counter knew, just knew, it was time to put on Beat it and then Billy Jean in a row. At which point the roof opened to let in a disco ball and let out the fireworks, the windows divested themselves of their muck and threw it up in a fog of disco steam, and the overcoats box-stepped their way in formation across the counter. Call it fate. Call it destiny. Call it precisely one bonus point for you, greasy noodle lady.

Chashumen 550 yen.

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