Miyoshi

Around 5 p.m. yesterday my older sister-in-law called us up and asked if we had plans for the evening. Nothing, really. "Okay, tonight's Miyoshi's one-year anniversary. There's a $30 buffet, my treat. Let's meet at the restaurant at 9. Don't eat anything else until then." I hadn't eaten since 3.

By 7 I was feeling light-headed, weak and nauseous with hunger but, being the obedient girl that I am, I still didn't eat anything. It was all I could do to go online and try to google what the fuss was all about.

Miyoshi is a Japanese restaurant my sister-in-law, Ate Kristine, frequents biweekly. She mentions it often though Patrick, the in-laws, and I had never gone. Dean's been there a few times now, and always orders nabeyaki udon and a Ramune.

For some reason none of my usual sources had any information on the one-year-old restaurant. No reviews at all. All I could find was contact information via some site called Pegasus News.

I don't know why we were there at 9, except maybe because Ate Kristine had to pick up her boyfriend from the airport and couldn't meet us any sooner. Miyoshi is tucked into a little strip mall, and when was pretty packed when we arrived. Outside, a blackboard stand with multicolored chalk script informed us that the night was reserved for regulars interested in attending Miyoshi's one-year anniversary dinner. Inside, the tables had been pushed together to make four long rows. In addition there were two circular bar-height tables, and a pseudo-tatami corner (a wooden platform with a low table, where customers can dine in traditional Japanese style). Kristine and Mike waved from the bar tables.

Karaoke was in full swing, with video and lyrics projected on the wall above us. Apparently everyone else had been there for a while; having finished with the buffet they were nursing Japanese beers and taking turns at the mic. We started with the usual green tea and miso soup, then checked out the buffet. It consisted of mostly various maki. Nigiri-zushi was limited to salmon, red snapper and eel. No gunkan, which disappointed me because I do like popping the salty bubbles of salmon roe. Other than that there was a simple salad, fried rice, sweet teriyaki beef, and fresh grapes and honeydew for dessert.

I thought the food was just okay, not stellar. It was the ambience that won us over. The lively little place was charming and cozy. Ken the owner is also primary sushi chef, yet still took time to sing one Korean song. His brother-in-law Scott casually played emcee for the night.

I sang "Eternal Flame" and got cheered. The karaoke program had been set to its most forgiving it seems - the lowest score of the night was 89, for a patron who chanted the first two lines of a song then realized he didn't actually know it. Most got 99s. Scott came back to me with the song listing. "You should sing another song. You did a really good job."

My second number was "Hooked on a Feeling", which I don't think I did justice because the arrangement and lyrics were for a male, and I could barely hear the music. But our server Soyung (?) came by later to tell me "You have a nice voice. I was surprised!" She was the second person to tell me that, and in those words. Don't ask, because I really don't know.

There was a table with kids in their late teens, early 20s maybe, who surprised us by singing Journey, Coolio, 4 Non Blondes and Will Smith's "Gettin' Jiggy Wit' It". How could they know these songs? It's been a long time since I've heard "Yes, yes y'all."

Ken went table-to-table towards the end of the evening, thanking everyone for their patronage, taking pictures, and sharing a tall bottle of smooth Zojirushi, which he cradled and declared his new favorite sake. Patrick leaned over and said, "We should come back. Masaya dito."

After two cups of the good stuff I was ready for a grand finale: song 20155, Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive." One of the kids at the other table came by just to sing along and dance beside me. I'm still not sure if he was drunk or just naturally convivial, but he was tremendously encouraging and looked like he thoroughly enjoyed himself. I think I remember him singing "What's Up" earlier in the evening.

We left in good spirits. I got a pearl-pink balloon, Ken kissed Dean, and a wayward drop of soy sauce landed on Ate Kristine's wrist. I survived my first American karaoke experience, and wasn't half-bad.