Cobaco

to keep myself from daily pestering the gorgeous waitresses at Uncle Tomato, I ventured into a Korean/Japanese place called Cobaco. small with a TV by the kitchen, the owner was grateful for my presence, perhaps humbled, helping me with the menu, English translations beneath nice pictures of cutlets and soups and the like. as he spoke English well i did ask for suggestions but unfortunately the situation ballooned into him asking his wife over who in turn rang her son in New York to help me pick out a meal.

(i'd like to mention i did point to noodles & fried shrimp more than once but they didn't seem too keen on me having this).

despite my best attempts to wave away the mobile phone, explaining i understood my options, i just swallowed and grabbed the phone for an awkward conversation with their twenty-something son in the States, who spoke remarkable well. maybe too well. he sounded like a worldly city boy, put out to speak to some idiot English teacher who needs everything pointed out to him.

i have since felt a duty to attend there every 2 days not just because the food is good but out of duty cos i did say i'd return the next day. when i didn't after my first taster, i managed to bump into the owner during lunch break later in the week. felt like a right bald faced foreign liar. tally thus far -

Cobaco 4, Uncle Tomato 7. maybe 8.

maybe i'll suggest to the guy they could do with some younger, sexier staff.