Asuka

"I don't want to go to Japanese.  I don't like Chinese.  It's the same."  Leo was upset, but outvoted (two women outrank two boys, right?).  Art refused to go.

When Oma (daughter, age 19), Leo, and I entered Asuka, we were asked "Sushi or Hibachi?"  Hibachi it was.  Since we were there early, we were the only ones in the back room.  As the three of us sat around the large cooking area, I knew what to expect.  The kids didn't.  I assured Leo, who was still pouting, that he'd be smile before he left.  He was determined to not enjoy it.  His first smile was trying to catch zucchini with his mouth.  Yes, the chef tossed food to us.  Oma was the only one who caught one (although I must state that my chunks were more likely to be caught by my cleavage).  Leo's second smile came when the chef lit up the entire grill with a two-foot tall, two-foot wide fire that I swear would've singed my hair if I'd been leaning forward and wearing hair spray...   Leo's third smile was the cute little squirtgun (well, more like a peeing doll).  Once the food was prepared, Leo was far too busy chowing down to smile (well, me too!).  I had a fillet, which was tender enough I could've cut it with a bread knife (except, of course, that the chef cut it for me).  Leo had steak.  Oma had calamari.  All were good, but mine was the best :-)  With the included soup (wonderful!), veggies, and rice (Leo opted for noodles instead), we had enough food that stubborn Art had a complete meal when we got home.