When faced with a six-page menu allied with a supplementary page loaded with specials and all in a language that makes less sense to you than abstract art, what do you do? Get up and leave is one answer, as proven by the nearby holidaying couple, American I assumed by accent and attire, who left shortly after sitting down owing to their zero comprehension of the menu at Inakatei.
While I understand their frustration, I also sympathize with restaurateurs. Translating menus into English is a pain in the derrière, and travel should be about adventure, coupled with occasionally making a fool of yourself. It's a pity that the visiting Americans who had come this far departed, because the hospitality at Inakatei is literally overflowing — as witnessed when you order sake. The waitress overfilled my cup, nihonshu pouring into the saucer beneath, so that when I lapped it up, catlike, it spilled all over my pants. See what I mean about making a fool of yourself? Still, it's the little things like this that make restaurant visits memorable.
Likewise, the bell contraption used to call the servers was equally unforgettable for its similarity to a cleaning brush used in a toilet. Function definitely trumped style.
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