Another little misunderstanding

In Japan, when you buy convenience food in a convenience store they give you a set of eating utensils. So, if you buy a dessert, they give you a spoon, if you buy noodles they give you chopsticks, etc. It is very nice, if a little wasteful, as I have spoons and chopsticks at home. Anyway, on Friday, after the baseball, I needed a quick, convenient snack so I bought a cup noodle, (not a pot noodle, they are completely different) on my way home. The server popped my purchase in a carrier bag and an eating utensil. To my horror, I noticed that he didn’t give me chopsticks, he gave me a fork. So that’s what racial profiling feels like. 

Talking of chopsticks, last night I spent over 4000 yen on a meal. That is about 30 GBP. (I will just pause for a moment for those who know me to recover their composure. I don’t like to think of myself as tight, I prefer careful, I can be as generous as the next person once I’ve carefully considered all the options and implications of my generosity. But those who know me are right to be taking deep breaths at the news that I spent £30 on a meal and I do think it might be the most I’ve ever spent on one feed.) It looked like a good deal, an all you can eat set-up, with all sorts of different types of beef; tongue, skirt, roll and rump, actually it sounds a bit like a 50 Shades sequel rather than a menu. Anyway, there was an all you can drink menu too, so it was washed down with copious amounts of beer and Sake, which apparently is alcoholic, who knew? After I ordered, I sat back and waited for the food to come, imagining the chefs preparing my beef, medium to well-done, just the way I like it. I took a sip of beer and watched the kids helping themselves to the do-it-yourself candy floss machine. Then, my first plate of food arrived. To be honest,  it didn’t look well-done, it looked badly done;  a little on the rare side. Another plate came that too looked more uncooked that cooked. I know the locals like their fish raw, but their beef? There must be some mistake. It was then I realised the heater in the middle of the table was not a heater, but a grill, they were going to cook the food in front of me, well that was well worth 4000 yen. Another server brought some tongs, and smiled. I waited for the person to come and grill my meat for me, (not a euphemism, despite how it sounds.) but no one appeared. It was only now that it dawned on me. It seemed like I was supposed to do it myself. 

What? Hang on a minute?

I was paying 4000 yen and I had to do the cooking myself? If I wanted to cook for myself, I could have stayed at home. For 4000, yen I half expected to have a semi-naked celebrity look-a-like of my choosing to come and grill my meat. (stop it!) 4000 yen? You can buy a mini bbq in Poundland for a pound in Cardiff, three burgers from Hopkins the butchers in Barry and you have the whole meal for a tenner. I indignantly placed my first slice of meat on the grill. I then placed the meat in my mouth and my rage melted away like the meat melted on my tongue. How could I be angry when there was a little bit of heaven in my mouth? (also not a euphemism, stop it!). Apparently, I had unwittingly discovered Yakiniku.