Teppanyaki is a lot like spectator sport: there’s thrilling performances (and feats of athleticism), a great arena (the teppanyaki grill), aaaaand…. plenty of annoying fans. Why is it that every time I go to Miyako to have teppanyaki I’m bombarded on all sides by the slightly racist and ignorant comments of the rabble?
To the two Teppanyaki chefs: “Are you guys brothers?? Twins? You look the same!” (They do not look related). This wasn’t just once either, it was a few times. Also, a very agitated and frantic guy asks his girlfriend if they can bring drinks into the main teppanyaki area, then not a minute later, “I’m very excited about teppanyaki” says the girl, to which her boyfriend replies “Yeah, as long as we can have drinks” (clearly hanging out for some bar options).
(Yeah, I’m aware this is an awesome photo)
Admit it, you’ve been dying to hear what I think of Longrain, one of the city’s most venerable contemporary Thai restaurants. It’s a dining experience; it’s about the service, the ambience, the wine and, most importantly, the quality of the food.
So most of my work crew were excited to go have our Christmas lunch here the other week (yes, we’re a little late, December was too busy for lunch!) and I was too. I had come here only once before, after trying numerous times on a Friday night to get a spot – it’s extremely popular. Best bet is to always book a table, but you’re going to need a number of people to do so; they only take bookings for Friday lunch (in fact, the only day they’re open for lunch) and for larger groups. So they suggest you put your name down on the waiting list as with so many other places in the non-booking zone of the CBD (this really irks me) – or you can just come early as I did that time.
So imagine our collective disappointment that Longrain did not live up to our expectations.