If They Throw a Shrimp in Your Crotch, Do You Have to Leave a Tip?

I just got home from a dinner out with our neighbors. Ten of us journeyed to the “big ol city” for a dinner at a Japanese/Chinese restaurant that everyone except Hubby and me had tried before. The other eight were couples from our neighborhood, and Hubby and I were thrilled to be invited on this outing. Hubby has played softball with most of the men, and so they are really more “his friends” than mine.

Having never been out with these folks, and having never been to this particular restaurant, I scoped their menu online last night. I really love Chinese food – crave it often (since it’s not Hubby’s cup o’ tea) – so I was pretty jazzed about dinner. We had 7 p.m. reservations (which is a tad on the late side for us – we have kids, so we are typically done eating before 6!), and we arrived at the restaurant early to socialize with one of the other couples. When we were finally seated, we discovered that we were not going to be eating at the Chinese half of the restaurant – but rather, the Japanese hibachi portion of the restaurant. Now… this was only news to Hubby and me. The other couples have gone there before, and purposely chose this. For me? It threw a big ol’ monkey wrench in my “what to eat for dinner” dilemma.

I have to say (and M, I’m sure you are laughing your hiney off), I am sort of a picky eater. Hubby is worse than I am. I’ve had Japanese food before, and it was so-so, but I prefer Chinese food, and I prefer ordering off a menu, rather than the hibachi style dealy bob. Apparently, the price factor is for the “Entertainment” of watching the chef (is that what we’d call him? I have no idea) juggle spatulas and balance eggs on his head – but to be honest, I am more of a “casual dining” sort of gal (give me a turkey o’toole from Bennigans any day!), and for all of my love affair with Food Network and cooking magazines, I just DO NOT WANT to see my dinner prepared in front of me.

For starters – my biggest food quirk perhaps, is that I do not like seafood. My philosophy is: If you hold it underwater, and it doesn’t die… I don’t want to eat it. Well, they were cooking the Hibachi shrimp awfully close to my Hibachi chicken. It kinda skeeved me out. Then, the little chef guy decides to get all fancy, cutting and tossing shrimp – and tossed a shrimp tail INTO MY LAP. On Purpose. Hubby graciously reached into my lap to pick the shrimp up and set it on the table (so noble of him, yes?), but to be honest, I hadn’t been expecting that – and was sort of unimpressed.

Some of the other circus tricks including tossing shrimp into people’s mouths, lighting huge flames on the grill, and the previously mentioned egg juggling. That was all prior to the part where they were cooking our entrees adding heaps of butter into the piles of chicken, beef or shrimp. (Seriously, I had no idea they used so much butter in “Japanese” cooking).

It wasn’t a horrible time – most of the people were a lot of fun (except Mr. High & Mighty, who seemed to have a comment about everything, and who punctuated every sentence with, “Hey, come over to my house and check out my new plasma tv!” Okay, we get it – you are better than us. Thanks. Remind us again, why don’t you?). In the end, our dinner for two was well over fifty bucks, and though the food was “okay”, I am just more used to spending a great deal less and enjoying my meal a great deal more.

We hit the Starbucks drivethru upon leaving the restaurant, and I was still too tuckered out to continue the evening (at the home of Mr. Check Out My Flat Screen). I believe the other four couples are hovered around his tv and playing cards – but happily, I’m going to eat a bowl of cereal (I’m STARVING!) and head to bed!