The airline may charge us an extra weight fee on the flight home, but it will be well worth it. Last night our friends D. and Y., and their two stunningly handsome sons, treated us to a feast at Kiriko. I know little about the restaurant, or chef Ken Namba, but all day I've been replaying the one beautiful dish after another that he sent out to our table. There was butter-smooth salmon, tuna, and red snapper, each served two ways; a tuna tartare wrapped in nori; handrolls spilling over with blue crab; a foie gras–like monk fish liver; a tender-crisp softshell crab; a salad of spinach perfectly balanced with enoki mushrooms; mild chili peppers with bonito flakes; vegetable rolls with crunchy asparagus; the thinnest buttons of squid splashed with yuzu; and bites of fried chicken with a side of not-your-average potato salad.
And for dessert ... yuzu sorbet; a scoop of honey-sesame ice-cream; and a kombocha squash creme caramel with honey-vanilla ice cream. I'm embarassed to admit that we're thinking of heading back over tonight, for just one more bite of that blue crab...
A little game of dash-around-the-parking-garage-poll to burn things off... I should have joined him.
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