Kunitoraya is a Japanese udon restaurant. It is small, and several of the seats are right on top of the open kitchen, where you can watch them frying your tempura and dishing up your soup. Of equal excitment is that it is also reasonably priced - you get a hot steaming bowl of delicious noodles in broth with tofu (which is strangely but deliciously sweet), seaweed (too fishy), or different meats for about 12 euros.
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| View from our seats |
Unfortunately for me, my enjoyment of the dinner didn't last long because I started feeling light-headed as we headed back to the metro. We got home, I crawled into bed, and the light-headedness morphed into chills. At about 2am I woke up and said, "Um, I think I have a fever?" Mr. Oil said, "Ok, let's take your temperature." To which I said, "Please don't use the thermometer that has been up Baby Oil's butt."
He brings in a thermometer, and I asked, "Are you SURE that's the right thermometer? Are you SURE that thermometer hasn't been up our child's butt?" He swore it was the right thermometer, so I let him take my temperature (101.7 - awesome). It was the right thermometer (I double-checked the next morning). Although, at this point, what's a little bit of my own baby's poop in my mouth? You're retching, but really, I mean, come on.
Feeling fine now (two days later). Though both Mr. Oil and myself are not on board with this I-get-sick-once-a-month-in-Paris plan. Am I not eating enough baguettes? Not drinking enough wine? Not savoring enough macarons? We all know the answers to these questions. And I really hope it wasn't the soup, because it was delicious and I want more. Soon.
