This is the fate of Japanese cuisine.
His sadness, his despair.
The more she gives of herself, the less we respect her.
Take the sushi: now those like the tray.
As easy to unhook as not worth a nail.
The ersatz tricks the original with icy, flabby, sticky, stupidly democratic bites where tradition applies to lukewarm, precious, long and round pieces in the mouth.
Luckily (or pity), some houses regularly send leaders from the Archipelago to bring us up to standard.
A stone's throw from Little Tokyo in Paris, rue de l'Échelle, Zen has just invited one to its basement under the sign of Tenzen and on the pretext of revealing another precious Japanese dish, tempura.
When you meet her, in most restaurants and under the pretext of donuts, you find yourself chewing cardboard.
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