Sushi and Spice Racks

It is no secret whenever I get home to Geneva the first thing I do is eat sushi. The filet des perches, the jet d’eau, the tailleul bread and friends can wait.

This time was no different, except I was in pain and not from hunger. Three changes of train with too much luggage and a lap top had taken its toll on my back.

Unlike aspirin, I believe that sushi has magical qualities of healing, if not back pain at least a taste bud revival is guaranteed. However, rather than lug the stuff to Mikado or Bokey, I settled for the restaurant under the station.

Happy with my tray I sat down to eat, however, this time there was entertainment.

A man, probably in his late twenties, cute and probably a Brit from his accent, was sitting kitty corner, an ear plug draped from his ear to his phone.

‘I don’t care if the spice racks aren’t usually that size,’ he said.

For each bite of tuna, asparagus, shrimp, rice, salmon I learned more and more about spice racks and their measurements, their materials, etc. I never learned why the size was so important to him.

He finished his meal and as he left called Paul to report the spice rack condrum. Out the restaurant window I saw him wandering off talking to Paul as I popped the last morsel of sushi filled with avocado into my mouth.