Mentaiko mentaiko mentaiko

An unsatisfying Sunday found a stupendous close.

Walked over (okay, to all my friends that are gasping incredulously, I walked one block and drove the rest around the lake) to my local Sushi place (Mr Sushi) settled in at the bar, enjoyed the needlefish that only comes in once in a while. Then I started telling Kenny about how I'd told everyone in the world (okay, so everyone that reads Bayosphere and had been pulled into Noriko's post) about Mr Sushi. Taking on a mock pained and saddened tone, I mentioned how I had told everyone about my love of Mentaiko but that he, Kenny, just didn't get it anymore. And, this, I sighed, was how my favorite Sushi chef treated me - with not enough consideration to procure, for me, that orange glob of spicy bitter saltiness that I craved.

He had mentaiko! He looked at me quizzically, then said - "but I have Mentaiko today". Thats it. No fanfare. Just the words. And I was speechless. Also speechless because my sushi orders came fast and furious - needlefish, mentaiko, fatty hamachi, mentaiko, mirugai and mentaiko handroll to top it off.

Mr Sushi is on Grand Avenue in Oakland. The main sushi chef is Kenny, his able and silent assistant is George. Sit at the bar and ask them what's good. Tell them Mini sent you.