My Dinner at Kimono's

My Dinner at Kimono's

Last night, I did something I have never done before. In fact, very few people I know have ever done it before. While in Florida on business, I was staying over an hour outside of Orlando. I drove in to Walt Disney World, and had dinner at a Japanese sushi restaurant named Kimono's at the Swan Resort. That in itself is not the unique part, it is how I had dinner. First, though, let me back up a step.

Monday morning I flew through Atlanta to Orlando. The gentleman sitting next to me on the flight to Atlanta was a very nice fellow, and we had a great conversation. Somehow (I don't know how this happens around me :-) the subject got around to food, and he knew I was going to Orlando. He said he had gone to this sushi restaurant, and that if I had the chance I should go -- no, I had to go.

Well, he was right. My philosophy on a meal is that it is composed of three crucial elements: the food itself, the ambiance (which includes the service), and the company you are with. The food was very good (it's Disney!), the ambiance -- it's Disney! and the service was excellent -- it's Disney! (By the way, if you have never been to Walt Disney World, and you have any appreciation for exquisite taste, elegance, fun and adventure, then only one question: when are you going?)

As I entered the Swan resort (the entrance from the moment I turned off Florida's turnpike until parking set a certain sense of expectation, awe and adventure), I was thinking about the Japanese culture. Two of the things that I have always liked about the Japanese is their attention to detail, and the importance they place on wisdom and reflection. I made up my mind I would have a Japanese dinner. From the moment I entered the restaurant, I was in Japan -- and the decor was perfect for that (except for the Western furniture). One thing I noted briefly was the large number of Japanese people eating there -- a good sign.

Customers get to seat themselves, so I chose a two-seat table to the left of center. Paying attention to each motion my body made, I deliberately set my umbrella down, pulled out my chair, sat, and made myself comfortable. Presently, a waitress delivered a small, squarish flowered ceramic dish with a hot, rolled wet cloth, a small round bowl for soy sauce, and a bottle of soy sauce. I ordered a hot tea, wiped my hands on the towel, and looked over the menu.

One of the most interesting rituals in Japanese culture is the Tea Ceremony. It takes hours to prepare. The water is boiled to an exact temperature, the tea made, and served only after a very detailed preparation of the physical surroundings and mental state. The drinking of the tea itself may take several more hours, during which slow, deliberate movements are made with focused attention, and much contemplation on what has take place, what is taking place, and what will take place next.

Tea Ceremony aside, I slowly and deliberately drank my miso soup, picking the pieces of Tofu out with chopsticks. The, I would take a drink of hot green tea. All the while, I contemplated each and every object around me.

The square dish on which the towel lay was mostly white, and very tastefully decorated with a couple of painted flowers. I thought about how much work it took to obtain the materials for the china, paint the flowers, bake and glaze, package, ship, clean and serve it, and all the people involved in bringing just that one dish to me that night. The towel on it was made of cotton, which was grown, harvested, seeded, spun and woven. The thread used to sew the edges of the cloth was also similarly produced, and the machines which produced the cloth had likewise been mined from the Earth, melted and smelted, formed and assembled, packaged, delivered and maintained. The water had been heated, and the cloth dipped in the water (not to say where the water had come from), and so on -- all to bring me a hot, wet rolled towel to wipe my hands.

The sushi had been a fish in the sea, growing its life to be caught in a net, hauled up, brought to shore, filleted with such skill, wrapped with such beauty, simplicity and elegance around a clump of rice, and arrayed on the dish in a perfect presentation. The rice had been planted, watered, grown, harvested, packaged, shipped, cooked and made just so, just for me.

Each item, the sake, the tea, the sake flask and cup, the mug -- everything had been produced, shipped, maintained and served just for my dinner. Many thousands of people's hard work and many thousands of years must have gone into bringing the restaurant (as part of Disney World) into existence, just so I could have that one meal that one night. Truly, each and every person's thoughts and actions are intimately interconnected all the way back through history. Truly, Mankind is inextricably a part, product and participant in the Universe. Truly, for the first time in my life I appreciated my small yet large role in life.

Thank you, my dear friend, for recommending such a great restaurant.

When was the last time you had a dinner like that?

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