When I say I don't like coffee, salad and white chocolate, people are horrified. I don't understand why. I've heard that some people don't like Nutella and some people don't like wine, but that doesn't make me think 'Riffraff!'
On the other hand, I love sushi and even more so enjoying it in those magnificent sushi bars where colorful saucers slide on a conveyor belt under their little domes and before they get to your table you have plenty of time to glower at the people who grab the nigiri before you.
It all seems absolutely positive and cheerful to me: from the chopsticks on the table, to the almond-eyed little men cooking right in front of you, from the easy-to-finish mini-portions to the few calories you assimilate anyway, assuming you're in an authentic Japanese where they don't serve tempura, rice topped with something they don't want you to recognize, and fried tortelli.
They are true avant-garde self-services where generally the cost of lunch is either fixed, despite the prohibitive amount of rainbow-style saucers you accumulate, or a cost per serving is provided, which changes according to the contents and is marked by different colors: so you're limited to one red saucer that costs €5 and you splurge on the €1 blue ones.
Great itinerary for lunch, but avoid them in the evening, and be wary of those that offer all-inclusive for less than €10.
For dinner I personally prefer those nice little Vietnamese restaurants where they make you sit on the floor and it feels like being in a summer garden because of the amount of plants that make everything very private and intimate, helped by the soft lighting.
The waiters greet you with a broad smile and escort you to the table entrusting you with a menu wider than the placemat, strictly made of recycled paper and steeped in names you wouldn't understand even if you got by with Thai, so you let them advise you: a certain seared unseared fish served on some leaf of some plant with that little sauce on the side looks really tempting. The cases are two: either you get so attached to the dish that you go back to the restaurant just for it or you change every time, tasting new flavors and sometimes being justifiably disappointed.
They really are lovely little restaurants, but absolutely exclusive.
Once in a while is fine, but make sure that those you invite to dine there also appreciate fusion cuisine: not everyone agrees with my taste-and-stupefy.
