Seriously. Who the hell would eat this crap? I went down to Tokyo Joe's today for some "Healthy. Fast. Japanese" food. What I got was "Slow, Ass-tasting, American" served by some dreadlocked hipster with enough metal in his lip to...well, whatever you'd be able to do with a shit-ton of metal in your lip. More importantly, the food tastes like mule-ass. That is not to say that I know exactly what mule-ass tastes like. But I feel that were I to ever be forced into eating mule-ass, say by way of some mistaken incarceration in a Nicaraguan prison, it would taste more like Tokyo Joe's than anything else. Of course, I should admit that I have a rather "refined" palate inasmuch as there are a number of other foods I'm not particularly fond of. That being said, a double-blind super technical survey taken of my co-workers scientifically proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Tokyo Joe's does, in fact, suck all the way around.
Being a "variety oriented consumer", I like to make sure I'm not limited to eating at the local "American" fast food joints. While Wendy's, BK, or McDonald's have their appeal, I like to "spice it up" from time to time by hitting Chipotle or Qdoba. Today, my options had been exhausted. American was out because I'm turning into a fat shit. Mexican wasn't an option because we're having fajitas tonight. I decided it was high time I hit up the Tokyo Joe's down the street for lunch. I'd been craving a beef-bowl from Kokoro for a couple of days and I figured I'd see what the competition had to offer.
The minute I arrived, I knew I was in trouble. The joint was decorated in that whole nouveaux cut-and-paste designer fast-foot motif that's becoming entirely too dominant among boutique eateries these days. I'm sure you know the look. Metal chairs and perforated steal rising from a painted concrete floor. Menus bolted from the ceiling with exposed light fixtures. The interior designer will tell you it's all got to do with ambience, and the significant decrease in cost plays no part. I agree wholeheartedly. Nothing gets me in the mood to eat like walking into a half-built shit hole where sparks fly from the chairs every time someone gets up to refill their soda from the manual coke-pump. Finally able to come to terms with the fact that I wasn't leaving for better food, I decided on a beef bowl with veggies, and a spring roll. I waited impatiently for the Bob Marley impersonator behind the register to ring up the couple in front of me, taking what seemed like a good portion of forever. As soon as he was done with the couple, he proceeded to simply stare at the register, then walk back and forth to check on other employee's food prep from time to time. As far as I could tell, he had absolutely nothing to do with these orders, having already taken them, but still seemed rather intrigued with the whole "food preparation process" going on all about him. By the time he was about set to take (gasp) my order, another girl had stepped up to the second register to help me.
"Beef Bowl with veggies, and a spring roll."
"Anything else?"
"Nope. That's it."
"Your total is $10.34."
What the fuck?! $10.34 for some beef, rice, and an egg-roll? You bet your ass it was $10.34! I thought to myself, this food better have been made by God on high and bathed in sweet ambrosia. Of course, I can tell you right now, if that's what they put on my beef bowl, ambrosia tastes like mule ass. I reluctantly paid the girl and strolled over to the holding pen for customers waiting on their to-go orders.
I stood and watched employees shuffle back and forth (only two of them really working) while a gaijin sushi-chef cut some of the most disgusting looking fast-food nigiri I've ever seen. Finally my order was up. I quickly grabbed the bag and ran over to the utensil pen to grab some chopsticks and soy sauce. The soy sauce nowhere to be found, I quickly left to eat my meal in front of the comforting glow of the monitor at my desk.
As soon as I got back to my seat, I opened the bag to grab the beef bowl. Wouldn't you know it, the ghetto-ass sauce that metal-boy had put in my bag had spilled everywhere. After a twenty minute cleanup, I finally got around to eating. Let me be precise here: this food doesn't taste "bad". This food tastes like whatever "bad" would spit out and say tasted bad. For example: I'm not certain what kind of cow Joe had decided to use for his bowls, but I can probably tell you what part of the cow it came from. This beef, the "veggies", and the grade-c rice conspired to create a horrific flavor sensation in my mouth. I don't really know how to describe it other than this: You know that scene in The Empire Strikes Back where Han has to slice open that tauntaun and shove Luke and himself into its entrails for warmth? I'm thinking it probably would have tasted something like this beef bowl.
I don't even know where to start on the spring roll. I was expecting a fried egg-roll much like you'd get at any other asian restaraunt. Not today. I understand it had noodles and carrots and stuff in it, but beyond that, I'm guessing they just found some of the previous day's salad out back, wrapped it in rice paper, and sold it for $2.25.
What have I learned from all this? I think I learned as much as anyone would have. First off, they tell you that New York is the only place in the world where $5 won't necessarily buy you a beer. I'd say that this translates rather nicely to Tokyo Joe's. You see, TJ's is the only fast food place in the world where $10 won't get you a meal. More importantly I've learned that if you pee into a cup and put a lid on it, you can call it "Sauce" and sell it for $1. Am I bitter? No. I am fluxrad. I roll with the punches. I take things as they come. So no, I'm not going to tell people not to eat there, or stand out side with a picket sign, or demand my money back or compensation for the Immodium AD I'm probably going to have to buy here in a minute. No. I'm a blogger of sorts. Everyone knows what we bloggers do. We throw hissy-fits on the internet.
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