First things first: I’m not Japanese, nor do I want to be. I’m a fan of their Pokemon, insane pornography and futile attempts at rap music, but I’m not so sure about their rice balls. Last summer, my mom bestowed upon me her knowledge of onigiri artisanry (which she got from Oms/b in Midtown).
Her procedure, in short, was to scoop, shape, season and wrap. She had a colorful collection of soy-based wrappings along with the usual seaweed which lent then a seriously twee attitude. Another cool addition were the sesame seed-based seasonings. They added an interesting slant (HURR) to an otherwise rice-tasting ball of rice.
When my mom made them, she filled them with umeboshi, a type of sour pickled plum. When I made them, I didn’t fill them anything. (Do ravenous thoughts count?) Unfortunately for me, I was too poor to buy fillings on my own; my rice ball venture was a pursuit borne from desperation at the end of a bank account. They tasted sexless and fast, and were ugly to boot. Even in the photo they look scared and alone, like the world’s last colony of penguins. I wish Morgan Freeman were around to narrate this shit.
To put it bluntly, Midtown Manhattan is a barren wasteland when it comes to casual cuisine. There are the standard delis — either overpriced and “gourmet” or cheap with the strong odor of cigarettes and cooking oil — and a smattering of fast food joints. As a result, exploring the terrain to find good food has become a major part of my lunch break. And as an intern, I get TEN WHOLE DOLLARS to spend on lunch every day! Oh joy!
My favorite place to eat at the moment is Go Go Curry, a baseball-themed Japanese curry joint on 38th St. When I first ate there, I wasn’t feeling very adventurous… so I got a chicken cutlet over curry, single-sized. Oh yeah, so this place is sort of like Starbuck’s in that they use their own size classifications: from smallest to largest, you can get either a walk, a single, a double, or a triple. A Grand Slam is a katsu (pork) curry with a whole bunch of toppings on it. Kind of Denny’s, isn’t it?
In the store is a plasma TV that loops clips of rice farming, aerobics and the Go! Go! Curry theme song. THIS RESTAURANT HAS A THEME SONG! It was just some sugary denpa nonsense, but the novelty of it was appreciated by this blogger. Suck on that, Guy & Gallard! Maybe if you fucks had your own theme song I’d actually pay $2 for a bagel!