The Wizard of Oz rule of sushi

"Japonais?"

"Sure."

That was me and Jim, sending our standard pre-date text messages as he made his way into the city for our weekly date last night.

Summers in Chicago are just...amazing. So we try to make the most of them by spending at least one week night in the city during the warmer months.

Japonais is a snooty-falooty sushi restaurant that we've been hearing about forever.

"Sushi in the city? You MUST try Japonais!"

I should've known better. Any time anything is a 'MUST' it's usually a bust.

Like the play Cats.

Arguably the worst play on the fucking planet, but everyone and their mother was saying you MUST see it in the 80's. Fuck Cats. Seriously. Three hours of whiny, caterwauling...well, cats.
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So back at Japonais.

It's in the River North area of Chicago about three blocks from my office. And it's one of them neato-skeeto trendy upscale hoo-ha places where everyone is skinny and beautiful - except you.

And the world famous, must-have sushi? Average. And expensive.

The only upside? The service was fantastic.

But great service didn't help the 'Let's go to McDonald's' hungry feeling in our stomachs and the 'I've just been raped' feeling on our credit card when we walked outta there.

"I've decided we're going to use the Wizard of Oz rule when it comes to sushi from now on," I say as we're leaving the parking garage.

"What's that?"

"We're never looking farther than our own backyard."

The thing is, we've got a world-class sushi place just a mile from our house.

It's called Jurin. It's cheap, friendly and awesome.

And it's not a place you MUST try, it's the place you go back to time and again after trying all those silly MUST try places.
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I am listening to: Air rushing through the ducts in the office
I am reading: Drunkard by Neil Steinberg
And I am: Still hungry