I... don’t quite know how to write this post. I think it will be easier if I do it not by starting with the most important thing, but by doing it chronologically, because that’s how I experienced it.
The Engineer and I had a favourite sushi place, Masako (on Côte-des-Neiges, near the corner of Queen Mary). Sadly, it closed recently. We’ve been looking for a new place to call “our” sushi place, without much luck for a while. Then, last Saturday, we tried Mikasa (2049 Peel). We pretty much decided this would be it.
The décor was great, and the music wasn’t the prepackaged, stereotypical Japanese music many other places seem to be playing. We were sitting under the glass atrium window, in front. The ambiance was really nice. Price-wise, it was in the mid-range for sushi, but the quality of the food was superb. The showstoppers are really the specialty rolls (well, those are expensive, to be honest, so we limited ourselves to two). We had the Tentation, which contains tuna, avocado, mango and honey (among other things), as well as the Anaconda, which had delicious unagi. They were exquisite, and we kept thinking that we were going to have to come back regularly to sample the rest, as there is a wide variety and they all look so damn good. We also had mini maki (avocado, and a tuna tempura that was wonderful) and regular maki (vegetarian and unakyu). We ate like kings, but without feeling overstuffed. Really, it was like the perfect dinner.
Fast-forward to today, Thursday, at 6pm. A couple barely older than us is having dinner at Mikasa, in the atrium, presumably having just as good a time as we were having. Then, without any warning, a huge slab of concrete falls from the 18th storey of the Marriott Hotel – into the atrium of Mikasa. It kills the woman instantly and injures the man (I believe he lost some fingers). Just like that. And I keep thinking that we were just there. This could easily have happened to us.
There are certain times when one engages in behaviour that is known to be risky. If I decided to go run with the bulls in Pamplona, for example, I could expect a certain likelihood of injury or death. If I became a stunt-woman, it would be the same thing. But if I’m just sitting in a nice restaurant, enjoying a quiet meal with my husband... I assume I’ll be safe. One unlucky couple wasn’t. I can’t even picture what it would be like to suddenly – wham – be dead. Or to suddenly – wham – loose the man I love, and/or – wham – be permanently injured. I DON’T want to think about it. It’s absolutely horrible, what happened to these poor people.
So while I thought I would write a review to recommend the restaurant, it’s turned into something different. I don’t know when I’ll go back to Mikasa, but I know that I will (though there’s no way I’m sitting in the atrium again). In the meantime, I’ll snuggle a little closer to the Engineer and make sure he knows that I love him.