On Tuesday night I took Jennifer to Mikato. Jen loves sushi and hibachi, and I wanted to take her to get some of her favorite food as a sign of my appreciation for her immense patience throughout the semester. We’ve been to Mikato once before and enjoyed it. I’m not a huge fan of Asian food, but I can usually find some steak or chicken that i like. I do, however, enjoy watching the hibachi guy do his thing. If you’ve never had hibachi, you should go at least for the show. The chef slices and dices like a samurai and he catches things on fire like a 13 year old boy – very entertaining.
I was looking forward to seeing a guy exhibit his mad skills with a gas griddle. We get there and the host sat us down around the hibachi station. A lady came by and turned on the griddle to get it warming up. A little bit later she came back with our drinks and realized that the griddle was not warm. She informed the manager, who came to light the pilot light. He bent down near the griddle and BOOM.
All of the sudden I see a burst of fire and there is a middle-aged Japanese man on fire in front of me. He was wearing a sweater-vest, so the fire immediately burnt off all the lint on the vest, but thankfully none of his clothing caught on fire. His hair, however, was a different story. His hair was smoking and burning, and for a second he seemed unaware of this fact. Our waitress made him aware by beating the fire out of his hair. Thankfully burnt hair and wounded pride were the extent of his injuries. They moved us to a new hibachi station and we ended up having an authentic Japanese meal from a Mexican hibachi chef. The evening was good, and I was able to put the fireball out of my mind most of the time (except for the times when the manager would walk by with his new “burnt hair” scent).
So, moral of the story is: Hibachi guy wielding fire is fun; Hibachi guy on fire, not so much. Also, if your pilot light goes out, remember to turn the gas off.
Until later friends…