Distracted by the late-arriving furikake

As August was finally drawing to a close, I visited Nakameguro.

On this day, as usual, after finishing a series of errands, I didn't head straight to the station but instead made my way to a certain place. I had decided before leaving home that I would have lunch at a Western-style restaurant I had been eyeing for some time.

It was a Western-style restaurant located about a 10-minute walk from the station, specializing mainly in hamburg steaks. They havefour commitmentsand it seems to be a popular spot, ranking high on a certain review site.

The errands I had were finished about an hour before noon. Even so, if it were a restaurant that was always bustling, it might be a bit crowded even before the lunch rush, which would likely be at its peak.

Thinking this, I entered the restaurant, and fortunately, the seats were mostly empty. I didn't see any weekday office workers or OLs, and I was a bit excited to find myself in what was practically a private dining experience.

After looking through the menu booklet, I decided to order the lunch set, which included the restaurant's signature hamburg steak, along with rice, miso soup, and salad.

Before long, the welcome drink and everything else that was brought out were all very unique, and it was refreshing to see. Of course, the main dish, the hamburg steak, was also delicious.

Just as I was about to finish my meal, a staff member suddenly brought a jar of furikake to my table.

At this moment, the rice bowl in my hand was already almost empty. There was nothing left to sprinkle it on. I froze for a few seconds at its sudden appearance.

I could have simply asked for a refill. The menu I had looked at stated that refills were free, so I could have ordered one without hesitation. However, having already reached a certain level of fullness, I didn't need any more.

I had no idea it would come out at such a time, and in a sense, I was faced with an unexpected situation. And the furikake, which had arrived with great fanfare as if to play the final act of the lunch course, looked as if it were standing there in a daze.

Feeling a sense of regret, the late-arriving furikake ended up being neither tasted nor even touched, and my early lunch came to an end.

While I enjoyed the hamburg steak at the Western-style restaurant I visited for the first time, I felt a little unsatisfied because of the furikake that had rushed in at the last minute, leaving me feeling somewhat hazy.

Above all, I didn't know when I would be able to visit this place again. I even thought that this might be the first and last time.

Should I have asked for a small refill of rice before finishing my meal? As I wondered this, I shifted my gaze to the menu board in the acrylic stand, and something unexpected caught my eye.

At this shop, in addition to being able to take out the regular menu, it seems you can also buy the dressing for the salad and that famous furikake separately.

However, since they are homemade original products, they are admittedly pricey. But I couldn't bear not knowing what that furikake actually tasted like. For some reason, at that moment, I was single-mindedly determined to partake in that one product.

And while I was finishing the payment, I spoke a word to the clerk. Perhaps the clerk was inwardly surprised that a first-time customer would actually reach for that item.

Excuse me, could I have one of these furikake, please?