I've been running around lately like a headless chicken -- and the simile is more literal than you might think. I have been spending my evenings going around Tokyo restaurants, doing a survey strictly in the interests of scrupulous journalism.
No, I have not become a restaurant critic. I did that job once, for The Age newspaper in Melbourne, covering exclusively Japanese and Jewish cuisine. I got so mixed up at one Japanese restaurant that I accused the chef of putting horseradish in my sushi instead of wasabi.
What prompted this survey of Tokyo restaurants?
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