Having nearly exhausted the menu of Fosters Freeze and hearing a piercing fax tone instead of a human voice when I called Blue Hen, I drove up and down Eagle Rock Boulevard in search of a restaurant that met my food snob standards. I settled on Mia Sushi, which offers valet service to patrons who don't want to park in the neighboring streets where liquor stores and low-slung apartment buildings abound. I decided to go ghetto and save the $4 valet fee for my food, pulling my car in front of a La-Z-Boy recliner discarded on the curb. Mia Sushi transcended the roughness of the neighborhood. The manager was friendly and helpful when I inquired about the salads. He recommended the firecracker salad, which was raw tuna served on romaine lettuce, julienned carrots, shaved daikon and fried wonton skins. For my to-go order, he separated the greens, red dressing and fried wonton skins in three different containers. What he didn't do was explain why the dish was called firecracker. I realized why after I shoveled the first forkful in my mouth. The dressing was made with Sriricha chili sauce. Despite my Viet pedigree, I'm a wimp when it comes to spicy food. For that one salad, I had to drink two tall glasses of water.
0 Response to "Firecrackers Exploding on My Tongue"
Post a Comment