The food wasn’t so bad. The portions are very small and expensive. Seriously, we all know there isn’t real “kobe” beef in NY.

It’s quite good. Although I couldn’t discern what made Shabu Shabu so transcendant over standard Vietnamese or Korean razor thin slices of beef. Yet there was something ineffable in the experience of meeting up on a completely blind date through craigslist with someone who turns out to pretty much be a fashion model. Not only was she way out of my league but she offered to dip my beef in the boiling pot of water. In a figurative sense you could say that the boiling pot was my heart and the beef was my ego.