Thumbnail: Japanese Village sake bottle

If wine were a liquor, it would taste like sake. The state­ment doesn’t really make sense until one actu­ally tries a cup of the warm liq­uid, and I have to admit, I didn’t believe Louise when she first said it.

Pat, Aaron, Trolley, and I, along with the respec­tive girls/girlfriends, Jen, Karen, Andrea, and Loo, went to the Japanese Village for some cel­e­bra­tory tep­pa­nyaki. Pat found a new full-time devel­op­ment job, Trolley went from con­tract to full-time, and Aaron got an eight-month qual­ity assur­ance con­tract, all within the same month. Everyone man­aged to make it out on the same night, which is not an easy task among the eight in attendance.

The last time we met together like this was when I first got my job at the begin­ning of spring, when we went to a lit­tle restau­rant in Chinatown to cel­e­brate, sort of like the meet­ing of the heads of the four ter­ri­to­ries in Infernal Affairs 2. It was impor­tant that my three clos­est friends in the city could make it last time, and this time, it just so hap­pened that each one of them got new jobs.

Every main meal comes in six to seven courses with mush­room soup, salad (con­sumed using chop­sticks), shrimp appe­tiz­ers, mixed veg­eta­bles, rice, and sprouts. I got the filet mignon, which is unlike any­thing I’ve ever tasted; ten­der enough to stick through with a chop­stick, but firm enough not to fall off. It’s so good, that I may sac­ri­fice the excite­ment of try­ing some­thing new the next time I go, for the savoury taste of their best cut beef.

Something that I des­per­ately want to do again, but dif­fi­cult enough to accom­plish with every­one there, to make me appre­ci­ate the time when it comes.