I ended up in Bronxville, again. I'm not really sure how this keeps happening to me, but it's definitely not the norm. Anyway, on Wednesday, I went for sushi. Now, Haiku used to be my go-to sushi joint. Cheap, delicious, smooth, melt in your mouth good. I recall many nights heading up here to pick up a take-out order, and then heading over the Shea stadium with my upper deck season tickets and a plastic tray of raw goodness. Nothing like gorging myself with two of my favorite things in life: sushi and baseball.
No more. The seaweed was tough, the rice wasn't fresh, and the sushi was underwhelming. The restaurant seemed even more crowded, as if they had added a few more tables and chairs in the already teeny location. I remember one summer when a punk threw a water balloon through Haiku's open windows, splashing customers who were more concerned with their sushi getting wet than their Armani suits. This time, I was wishing for a water balloon to break up the mediocre mundane.
How disappointing! You loved that place!
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