Why not try solo Shabu-Yo? Solo dining is peaceful, dictatorial negotiation dining.

What is your preference?

Have you ever
done solo Shabu-Yo?

It is rare to meet someone who has experienced solo Shabu-Yo.
This might sound like a self-introduction, but

I... am okay with
doing most things alone.

And my solo Shabu-Yo
has some special circumstances.
I enter Shabu-Yo,
sit down, and first, I check in my heart.
“What is my condition today?”
How tired my jaw is.
How my stomach feels.
How much I crave spiciness.

Since I do this alone, no one evaluates me. No one rushes me, so I can perform a perfect simulation.

First, the battle with my jaw

My jaw gets tired easily. I don't think of this as a weakness, but as a personality trait.
So I choose thinly sliced meat without hesitation. I let it swim in the broth for a moment and pull it out immediately. The kind that melts before you even chew is the best.

When I am with multiple people,
“Let it swim a bit longer”
pressure like that arises.

When I am alone, none of that happens.

I can toss meat that has been dipped for 0.5 seconds into my mouth without caring about anyone's eyes.

This is the taste of freedom.

Next, the negotiation with my stomach

You might not be interested, but...
my stomach is not good with leafy greens or seaweed. It cannot digest them well, and they get stuck.

So even when I am in front of the vegetable zone at Shabu-Yo, I am not swayed.

Tofu and the side curry.
I fight with these two pillars.

Tofu absorbs the broth well.
Curry is, needless to say, the best.
When I dip the shabu-shabu thinly sliced meat into the curry and eat it, I feel like I don't need anything else.

“Isn't that curry, not shabu-shabu?”
No one makes that retort.

To me, it is a proper shabu-shabu.
Rather than solo,
it is a bilateral negotiation between my stomach and me,
where everything is decided peacefully.

And, the dictatorship of spiciness

This is also useless information, but...
I like spicy food.
Don't say you didn't ask, I want you to listen.

I like it quite a lot.

I'm being persistent, but
if you askhow much I like it.
When I quietly served curry made to my preferred level of spiciness, it turned into a serious family argument.
At the dinner table, I would use up an entire bottle of shichimi pepper or spicy sauce in one meal.
“Enough already”
“I start sweating just looking at it”
I have been told that many times...

When there is chili oil or chili pepper in the condiment area on the table, my eyes light up.

In a hot pot with multiple people, the tolerance for spiciness tends to be“adjusted to the person who is worst at it.”Hot pot is not a democracy,
it is a “coalition of the weak.”

But when you're alone, dictatorship is permitted.

Drizzle on chili oil, add chili peppers,
take a sip of the soup,
and let out a sigh.
This is my moment of bliss.
No one stops me.
No one worries about me.
(Except for my stomach)

If you like spicy food,
I think you'll understand
this feeling.

Customization is a privilege of being alone.

One day, I tried mixing sesame sauce and ponzu half-and-half. I was convinced it would be delicious in theory, but if someone were with me,
"Wait, you're mixing those?"
I was too afraid of that atmosphere to try it.

The result was amazing.

Solo Shabu-Yo is also a place where you can verify

"hypotheses you wanted to try but couldn't bring yourself to say out loud."

If you have
a "customization you want to try"

that you've been secretly nurturing

is something you have.

coming alone is the fastest way.

Consulting with your stomach,
unleashing a level of spiciness that would be criticized by your family,
inventing an arrangement no one else knows about.

My solo Shabu-Yo is, again today,
quietly,
but surely,
evolving.

I would be happy if you could tell me your recommended arrangements.

#SoloDiningThatFillsTheHeart
#DecidedOnSoloShabuYo