Sometimes you've just got to make the hard decisions. After enduring an epic three-hour grad school class in Umeda, I needed a drink and some grub fast (preferably in that order). Well, after a short pit-stop to Canopy with my classmates, they were calling it quits and I was still raring to go. The WhyNot?!? party for that night was at Kobe's Trinity (my favorite venue for that kind of thing), but I had been hoping to check out a bizzaro gothic-industrial thing at America-mura's Bar UTR later that night. And then it hit me: L&L.

L&L is a street level bar on the Namba-side of Amemura. There are tables out on the street, as well as way-too comfortable couches and chairs and a long (and well-stocked) bar. I had gone there twice before for their all-you-can-drink wine parties, and had had a fab time. At the time, I hadn't had had a chance to sample much of the food, but I distinctly recall looking over my shoulder at a guy ooh-la-la-ing over their unusual-looking lasagna. Well, tonight was the night to get a proper meal at L&L.

Getting off at Shinsaibashi, I make a quick run down to Time Bomb Records (which seems to have gone a little downhill of late) and walk past the charred hulls of my once favorite night spots (RIP Dragonfly Café/Foreplay) before arriving at the chalk sandwich board in front of the L&L. The sign read "Shisha 700 yen, Israel Wine". Ah, a little snifter would do well to start off tonight's dinner. But Shisha? I read the board again. I'd never heard of that kind of wine before. Ah well, something new to tantalize the taste buds. I pulled up to the bar and throw my giant otaku-sized backpack under the bar.

The skinheaded young bartender gave me a "whaddaya having" look. "Ah, Shisha?" I said, almost questioningly.

"Shisha," he nodded. "What flavor?"

Flavored wine? Ouch, that sounded rather nasty. I looked up at the Corona Extra sponsored chalkboard across the bar. Apple, mint, lemon, peach, grape, mango, cherry, melon, strawberry, jasmine, fruit mix - well, if they had flavored coffees, why not flavored wines?

"Mint," I decided. "And a falafel pita sandwich."

"Would you like anything to drink with that?"

Uh-oh.

Long story short: As I'm sure many of you are aware, a shisha is another word for "hookah", and I'd just inadvertently ordered a water pipe and mint-flavored tobacco. Color me embarrassed. I cancel the order sheepishly, and order a glass of (decent) 700 yen Israeli wine instead.

The master/chef is busy talking with a rather agitated man outside, so I'm told it's going to be a bit of a wait for my food. No problem. I pull out my pad to take some quick notes, and the bartender instantly finds a way to spritz it with Kirin from the nearby tap. He apologizes, laughing, and then goes back to chatting with a somewhat nerdy looking Korean-American guy sitting across from me. I in turn start scanning the bar for points of interest. Big screen TV behind the bar playing a weepy Charlize Theron flick. Gorgeous paintings of origami wonderlands cover the rafters - wow those are by Daas - I remember these from the Japanzine art issue a few months back (http://www.daas-art.com). A picture of a rabbi in the corner seems to wink approvingly at the Pussycat Dolls "Loosen Up My Buttons" playing softly in the background. My stomach rumbles.

It seems like an eternity (it's only about 15 minutes), but my pita finally arrives. At this point I'm hungry enough to eat roadkill, so I'm sheepish to say that the falafel was less savored than inhaled. I do have a vague remembrance of big tomatoes, green onions, and a secret cache of black olives hiding beneath falafel and a hearty helping of particularly thick and tasty hummus sauce, probably the best such meal I've had in Japan. Wiping the juices from my face in satisfaction, I look over to find the chef to congratulate him on his concoction, but he's busy chatting up some hotties at the far end of the bar. Hmm, it's getting kind of late, but I guess I might be sort of obligated to get something else. But that god awful movie. ..Just then the bartender turns off Charlize just as she's being pummeled in a mineshaft (God bless you sir, I was losing my appetite) and puts on soccer instead. That settles it, I'm getting dessert.

I look through the menu. Ah geez, lamb spareribs, mushroom ravioli, shish kebab - why had I settled for a humble pita? Okay, focus on dessert, a sweet fatut, whatever that is. This puts the chef back to work, and out comes a baklava-esque pie crust thing with ice cream, whipped cream and chocolate syrup - hardly the "crepe" it had been advertised as, but one taste of the unusual syrup, and I was a believer. Again, I look over to thank the chef, and again he's chatting up the cuties, and the place is starting to get busy. Well, I'll tell give him my regards next time I'm around. And with food this good, I'm sure that won't be long.

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