I’ve never necessarily conquered the grill and though I’d like to one day be the turducken master, at this point I have no problem leaving all that to the guys. Something about handing a man a raw piece of meat and a 17” bbq fork makes his testosterone levels sky rocket and the way I look at it is if he’s happy, I’m happy.
So Saturday night a friend and I went out to a Japanese BBQ restaurant in West LA and I was really excited about the whole do-it-yourself idea since I’d never been to a place like that before (aside from my kitchen, which didn’t seem as exciting). Even more thrilling though, was the fact that throughout the entire night I got to sit back, relax, enjoy $1.00 draft Kirin and didn’t do a lick of work on the grill.
It seemed like every 30 seconds I was plated a new variety of grilled beef, chicken and wegebole. I think I asked him three separate times if I was the only one eating since I couldn’t make a dent fast enough before the next round came. Each cut of meat was doused in its own marinade and cooked to perfection by my very own grill master. Big shocker, we also cooked bacon-wrapped asparagus and scallops. It had been almost a week (but felt like a month) since pork mania so I probably would have eaten a bacon-wrapped cardboard sandwich at that point.
I can feel a relapse coming on.
But you know you’re at a great place when they have ‘smores on the dessert menu and even better if you can make them yourself and personalize the marshmallow:chocolate:graham cracker ratio. I agree that there isn’t anything Japanese about ‘smores but I can now say that I’ve made them over a campfire, in a microwave and on a grill plate over smokin’ hot coals. After a long, exhausting night of lifting a finger only to adjust my chopsticks and call over our server to order another round of Kirin, I couldn’t think of a better way to finish it all off. . . .Not to mention the fact that it severely reduced the kimchi on my friend’s breath. Thank God.