61 Brewer Street
Date of Last Visit: Thursday, July 16th, 2009
The Victim: Me
The Damage: £10
The Background: I have the day off of work. Why? Because I need to go shopping. My friends Richard and Mireia are getting married in Barcelona on the 18th and I need some nice outfits. Plus, about 10 hours after I return from Barcelona, I have to head to Chicago for work and BlogHer. In short, it's time to update the wardrobe.
And although I'm really trying not to eat so much these days, the Pret Smoothie I try to pass off as lunch isn't really communicating with my brain or my stomach. My body wants food-food. I'm sorta by Brewer Street so I figure some sort of Japanese food might be nice. And there's Taro right there in front of me. So in I go.
The Entrance: Taro is packed. They try to seat me at the bar, but I'm not having any of that. There's a large man at the bar and I've got all my shopping. Borrowing a trick from my friend Yusuf, I don't say anything when they offer me the bar seat. I just stare at the server, and at the bar, and then at my bags. Like magic, it works. They give me my very own table.
The Food: Pork katsu don for me. It's okay. The egg is good. The pork tastes old. The breading tastes old. Eh. I'm not so impressed.
The Verdict: People seem to love this place. It was packed! Not my favorite.