Domo Arigato Mr. Morimoto

Yilin was feeling a bit bummed for the past two days, so I decided she needed cheering up. We all know the best way to cheer someone up is to surprise them, usually with a scary costume and late at night. (Well, OK, maybe that isn't the best way.) Last night I left lab early, showed up at her place of work 5 minutes before she was to leave, and surprised her. I took her to dinner at a fancy pants restaurant opened by famed iron chef Masaharu Morimoto. The restaurant: the eponymous 'Morimoto'.

We got there at an early enough time to sit at the sushi bar and watch the sushi chefs work their sushi magic. Interestingly, there was some white guy who was a sushi chef. Somehow, being white made us question his credentials ("Yeah, like you know how to make sushi, whitey."), but he seemed to know what he was doing. Also, there was a female sushi chef (Japanese), which I thought was odd because I remember hearing that women are not regarded as highly because they supposedly have warmer hands. (Which I don't believe because I have never met a woman with warm hands.)

The meal was amazing, needless to say. I won't go into specifics other than to say that Yilin's eyes and smile were huge the entire time from sheer ecstasy. (Not the drug, but the joy of eating seafood.) I thought she was the happiest I had seen her in days; until He walked in.

She was staring open-mouthed over my shoulder and squeezed my arms tightly with both hands. She practically shrieked in a school girl voice, "It's Morimoto!" I turned around, and sure enough he stood there in the flesh. He was wearing a medium gray samurai-style kimono with the sleeves tied up around his arms ala Toshiro Mifune in Yojimbo. (I missed it, but before I turned around he apparently closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and then began his brief walk around his restaurant.) It was as if he were prepared for battle. A battle worthy of Kitchen Stadium and Iron Chef America, no doubt.

Yilin was beside herself. As he walked past within a foot of us, I kid you not, she waved her hands in circles in front of her, wafting his smell up to her nose, and then she inhaled deeply. She was completely smitten. As I said, I kid you not. I could never make up anything that ridiculous.

I was then privy to the extent of her fanaticism: she told me that he was like a rockstar to her, and that she was torn between Morimoto and Mario Batali as to whom she loved the most. She then told me that they were numbers 1 and 2, and that I was number 3. (Well, at least I rank higher than Bobby Flay, the other male chef on Iron Chef America.)

And so, Yilin was once more her happy smiling self, in love with life and everything around her. It only took one good meal to restore her to her former condition. One good and expensive meal, that is. I hope she doesn't become bummed out too often once we are married. ;)