Mongolian

 

 

As in restaurant chef who hails from Mongolia. It is a Japanese restaurant. Had to stop there when in between jobs and the sandwich shop just didn’t resonate with me. Nice decor and quiet with only one other patron enjoying his lunch. So I took a seat at the counter stool. I ordered a tempura bento box, always a favorite. The chef stood on the other side of the counter preparing my order. A young woman was the only other staff I could see. A few moments later I began to enjoy my lunch. Amazing tempura! Rice, salad and a specialty the chef put together as a bonus to my meal. I love bonuses. He and I engaged in friendly chatter. I couldn’t help myself. “What language do you speak in Mongolia?” I asked. Duh, why Mongolian, of course. As it turns out neither he nor Karen ( yes, that’s the name she said was hers) were Japanese. His English was flawless. “How long have you been in the states?” “12 years for me two years for Karen.” I became enamored with the both of them. He instructed me on what a huge country his native land is. He goes back every now and then for family visits. 17 hour flight. Ugh. I so enjoyed my conversation and meal. It was difficult heading back to work. Left a sizable tip. I will be back to eat and indulge again in friendly exchange with my new Mongolian friends.

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