Jack, my born and raised Nebraska husband, was not thrilled with the Sunday night dinner options.
In addition to the delicious sushi cake, there were noodles topped with edamame and peanut sauce (cooked to a near paste like form), and steamed whole wheat vegetable buns.
Even the girls, who generally like everything I offer, were less than enthusiastic when presented with the buns. "What's in that?", from Kate, who rarely checks the contents before diving in. "I'm not sure, could be spinach, it's green," said Mary, picking delicately at her warm bun. "Maybe can I share one with someone?", asked Kate. Mary jumped at this opportunity, "Here! Have part of mine!".
"You know, these noodles would have been so much better with tofu," said the cook.
"Really? Tofu is what you think this needs?", said the Husker.
Culinarily, it was not my best weekend. Saturday night I accidentally poached shrimp in butter and orange juice, resulting in a fibrous glop of crustacean, smelling sweet and tasting overwhelmingly of citrus scented dirty bath water . Not even a warm tortilla and avocado could save us from the pleasingly pink shellfish. Sunday morning I reached for cornmeal but found polenta, creating light, airy and oddly gritty waffles.
Saturday morning we went out, for dim sum, in celebration of Chinese New Year. The scallop and chive dumplings, pork shumai, rice noodle rolls, and lotus leaf sticky rice being by far the best thing offered this weekend, and that was before I whipped up mushy noodles and thin sushi cake for dinner.
"I'm going to send a picture of this to my family, my entire family, to see if anyone I am related to can identify this as dinner".
Oh Jack, maybe they need to get out more. I'd recommend Furama on North Broadway, anywhere but here.