They all ate teriyaki

The chicken kind. But every member of the large party that arrived post-church was adept with chopsticks. The only people consuming sushi at Mimosa Cafe were a rural-appearing family of three. By all appearances this was a taste acquired by the father, and perhaps the mother as well, in the military. The kid was happy with this sort of food, and the father appeared to be downing sake. The miso soup was smoky-tasting and delicious, with the tiniest cubes of tofu ever seen. The salad is the kind that gives iceberg lettuce a good name, and had beautiful slivers of carrot and red cabbage for color. The tempura, which included five shrimp as well as eggplant and sweet potato, among the items, may have been the best we've ever tried. Our fish (salmon and mackerel) came piping-hot to the table. The mackerel was served with a cone of salt like the one that came with my salmon all those years ago at Hiroko in London. K. would go back to try the scallop dish; I'd try this salmon entree or the other on the menu, gladly.