I finally made it to Yakitori Taisho on St. Marks Place, which is short walk from where I live. It's a tiny Japanese grill reminiscent of Tokyo, or atleast that's what I had read before I moved to New York City. A bartender in Lawrence told me Yakitori Taisho was one of the places I had to visit, so it was definitely on my list.
I've never been to Tokyo, but I'm definitely curious after this meal, which was probably the closet authentic Japanese kabob joint experience I've had. Mae and I waited a good twenty minutes on a Sunday night before we were sat at a packed bar in front of the grill station, which is a four by four cubical space with three sweaty Japanese skater boy cooks. They wrap towels on their heads and sport California skate and surf shop T-shirts. There is absolutely no interaction between these men, only occasional eye connect to ensure no one is about to bump into eachother as they toss ramen noodles and flip skewers of chicken meatballs, asparagus, and quail eggs, which are just a few grill offerings.
As I took a look around the restaurant I realized I was the only Caucasian in sight. Everyone was Asain, and everyone seemed to be ordering similar dishes, but I couldn't figure out what it was they were ordering. Luckily the menu has English explanations in small print, so I did my best when selecting my meal. When the waitress arrived to take our order, we were both stumbling a little bit, realizing that even though we weren't ready, we needed to put an order in if we were going to be served. I quickly ordered the special, which was pictured with a tasting of meat skewers, rice, and a twist on kmichi. Mae ordered a few skewers and called it good. I also ordered some Japanese fries with aioli on impulse. After expressing some frustration about mayonnaise on sushi the other day in a Facebook status, several friends informed me that Japanese cuisine welcomes the mayo - on everything. Rather than throw a fit about mayo again, I decided to do a little embracing of the oddity.
We watched the cooks prepare several dishes we wish we had ordered. "What's that?" Mae would shout across the bar, trying to grab a cook's attention. These guys didn't have time to give us descriptions, but one of the cooks took interest in my pretty Chinese roommate and did his best. When our food arrived we both agreed we probably could have been a little more adventurous, but I guess there's always next time.
Bottom line: The food is cheap, the beer is cold, and the wait can be long, but the food is damn tasty, and I'm willing to wait in line again.
