1212 North Washington Street
Wilmington, DE 19801-1020
“A Movable Feast”
I am no more an expert in Asian and Japanese cuisine than matters of the heart. Nonetheless, on a week when I attempted a leap of faith I took another. History will record I entered Mikimotos in Wilmington, DE and ordered a Grilled Shrimp and Scallop Skewer Bento Box. It was bundled nicely like its video game system relative, the X-box, and came complete with six California rolls, two vegetable spring rolls, two pot stickers, a seaweed salad, a shrimp and scallop skewer and brown rice. All that was missing was a partridge in the pear tree, but if the words of the crazy red head I share office space with come to fruition and our temporary assignment extends, sushi and saki will soon be replaced with presents and peanut brittle.
With part encouragement and anxiety, I clumsily picked up my chop sticks. Having visited the left coast slightly more times than Ned Flanders Leftorium, I started my journey out west. I placed the California roll into my mouth with the same enthusiasm of a child told to eat his cauliflower. I had a strong urge to scream out, “Hey Mikey!! He likes it.” It was tasty and since I had no Life Cereal to snack on next, I ventured back east on my grid of goodies and sampled the pot stickers. Comforting and colored, they did not disappoint. I sank the idea of entangling myself in the seaweed salad. I am gallant, but not even the Green Hornet could have persuaded me to entertain opening my mouth.
The shrimp and scallop followed next and were leathery and loathsome, leaving me quite lethargic. I took a swig of my Sappora and the spring rolls softened the blow of my discontentment only briefly. Unlike the United Parcel Service, the brown rice did nothing for me. I longed for Uncle Ben to rise out of his grave and microwave my dish to pieces. I suspect cardboard tastes better.
Silent and serine despite the loud music, I took a step back and just watched the people at my table. I saw what the two security cameras each positioned at the ends of the back wall were not recording. People who had not met each other the week prior to our gathering toasted drinks, made slap stick jokes and talked about real life and reality shows. The recorders I thought were there to capture the misgivings of society instead preserved its miracles.
Truthfully, I know very little about the cuisine I reviewed here. I know even about less about people. A new friend I made told me before I left the Alcatraz alcove representing my work station that luck was on my side tonight. Of no surprise to me, it was a pretty and poignant foreshadow. My friends enjoyed their meal and the consensus was near unanimous: 4 out of 5. I abstained. I was an observer meant to write, not wither. My meal was $29.50. The experience was priceless.
It was a chilly night when I entered with thoughts of Ernest Hemmingway on my mind. He would agree with my conclusion. It was A Moveable Feast.
Our Score: 4.0 Chews
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