Osaka Sushi Grill

38 Gravois Station
House Springs, Mo.
On The Web

We heard about this place on social media, on a Jefferson County Missouri general information feed.
The question asked by the moderator was "Favorite place to get Crab Rangoon from?"
(Struggling to avoid smugly calling out the stranded preposition)
The discussion was lively, as it always is on such hot topics of personal preference. There seemed to be several passionate, probably alcohol fueled opinions. One place came up a few times, one we'd not heard of. Angel looked up the menu and showed it to me. "It looks different." she angrily and resolutely sighed. (actually I can never seem to guess Angel's emotions accurately, she may in fact have been pleased.)
We resolved to got there at the first opportunity.
Recall that recently I have been whining about getting tired of Chinese places, the food was all starting to taste alike, and it seemed muddy and almost off-putting. But this place by name and menu was definitively not just another Chinese themed restaurant, it was Japanese and yes there is a difference.
One word on the menu caught my eye and launched a flood of ancient memories.
Gyoza. (ギョーザ, ギョウザ)
I can recall it now, like it was just yesterday. . .
Back in the 80's I was stationed at Misawa Air Base on the northern tip of the largest (Honshu) of that country's many islands. For three years.
That's a long time to be anywhere, so yeah, I explored a little, tried a few things more than the average tourist. Admittedly and regrettably I didn't take full opportunity of the time I spent there. I explored tried and tasted far less than I could have.
Occasionally one of my bosses, Harry, would head off base before lunchtime and bring back a party platter of gyoza. These are basically pot stickers like you find in other Asian cuisine, but with two notable differences, more on this later.
I tried other local foods while I was there, of course. I could never acquire a tasted for two things though, sticky rice used for sushi and any form of raw fish. I tried, in Japan, but sorry, no.
I also tried sake in an unofficial and rather unceremonious ceremony called a sake circle. Basically a bunch of the local fellows that worked for NEC, the national phone company, and who we GI's worked closely with, being a communications squadron and all. The sake was heated in a battered electric aluminum percolator until it was the temperature of hot tea. Sake is terrible, unless you drink it this way, then it slides down your throat like butter. About three shots in, you're lucky if you can stand up again. I was seldom lucky.
Good times. . .  But I digress.
The Place:

House Springs is in the north central part of Jefferson County, the bulk of it sits along Highway 30 (Gravois Road in St. Louis) It was one of the earlier settlements in the county, named after one of those early pioneers, Adam House. Mr. House was notably slaughtered by indigenous Americans  of the Osage tribe along a creek, House's Springs, in 1800.
We don''t get there often as the connections over to 30 from our house are scary curvy and narrow. We took the scenic and scary curvy route this time, Hillsboro - House Springs road because. . . well it's pretty obvious isn't it?
We found it easily enough, it's not a huge place and there are only a few shopping centers. Greater House Springs boast about 14,000 people, but that covers a lot of unincorporated, rural land around it.
"Osaka" (large hill or slope) is part of Japan's second largest metropolitan area, about 250 miles east of Tokyo, also on Honshu.
Walking in, we were pleased, it was quite modern and tidy, very much in the tradition and style of the
Japanese. Dark green textured wallpaper, thick lacquered wood table tops, dark ceramic tiles. Traditional Japanese three string shamisen music played lightly in the background. As is traditional with sushi places, the prep area was brightly lit and fully visible to the diners. Sushi making is a very high precision art steeped as much in tradition as cuisine. A good sushi chef prides himself on his skills and is confident putting those skills on display.
There were only a couple of other people there at the time, making the whole experience seem more intimate and personal.
Shortly, a cheerful and welcoming young lady stopped at our table and asked about drinks. We kept it simple, tea, Angel sweet, me, not sweet.
The menus looked familiar, we'd read through it on line.
The Food:
Angel had been interested in the bento boxes. Bento, roughly translated 'convenience', is a traditional, single portion meal containing a few different, segregated foods served most often in compartmentalized box-plates, similar, but of much better quality than American TV dinners. In Japan this is a popular way to lunch, either made at home, or picked up or delivered from a restaurant. I had a yen for some yakisoba, which along with, another Japanese dish, yakimeshi, I had acquired a taste for in Japan. Chinese restaurants serve very similar dishes. Yaki means grilled, or fried. Meshi is a word for rice. Soba is literally 'buckwheat', but informally, noodles. So yakisoba = fried noodles, yakimeshi = fried rice. Some Chinese places come close to that which I recall, but it has been so long now, I don't know if I can recall the actual taste anymore, just that I could eat a lot of either.
However, indecision got the better of me. They had a combo platter, the bento box. They came with steamed rice, but for $1 U.S. or roughly 115 Yen more, you could get fried rice. It also included two Rangoons, three small California rolls and two gyoza.
Kazumi talked Angel into an appetizer. Sushi is a specialty of the place, they are terribly proud of them. They offered a diverse selection. Kazumi pushed a couple, not an aggressive upsell, more like a friend trying to get another friend to share a new experience. We’d already explained to her that I would not be sharing the experience since the thing I don’t care for in sushi is essentially what makes a thing sushi in the first place, the sticky rice. I apologized for my inadequacy and coaxed Angel to go ahead and try one anyhow.
She settled for the Spider.

“Is that made with real spiders?" I asked. Which wasn’t really that stupid of a question, since the Japanese commonly refer to crabs as spiders. So the answer was not a resounding “no”.
We went ahead and ordered our bento boxes as well, both of us chose chicken, Angel the Osaka (sesame) style, myself the Katsu style. When we asked Kazumi what that was, she explained that it was a little like steak sauce, or maybe barbecue sauce. I struggled to try to imagine something that tasted a little like ‘A1’ and a little like ‘Sweet Baby Ray’s’.
The Sushi arrived and it was beautiful, a true work of art. Precise, clean, minimalist. It was drizzled with a dark, smoky reduction, just a little. Sticking out on two slices were crispy tempura crab bites. I was tempted, but I just couldn’t get past that sticky rice. Angel was delighted though. She immediately tried to force some on me. I resisted at first until I remembered why I was there in the first place, as a service to you, my devoted fans. So I swallowed my pride. I took a bite that would be mostly crab and boy howdy, it was phenomenal. I pretty much let the rest of lie. Sorry, I just can’t handle sticky rice. I could tell by the not-rice parts though that this was expertly prepared.
Angel had most of the rest of it, savoring every bite. “Easily the best sushi I’ve had.”
Kazumi stopped by to refill our teas, answering questions and getting the jokes. Her accent was quite pronounced, but we understood each other just fine.

The boxes came soon. Neat, tidy, minimalist, precise. I was impressed by what I saw. The two chicken dishes were not made the same way. Angel’s looked like what you might get at a Chinese place, mine looked more like thin strips with a different, coarser, lighter breading. Also quite noticeable, sauces had been drizzled on the chicken, unlike Chinese places that completely flood the dish.  This was simply brilliant. When I tried my first piece I could taste the chicken the breading and a little of the savory sauce, individually, distinctly. Rather than the one-note General Tso at the buffet, this was a melody of flavors and texture. Angel’s sweeter sauce was also just barely spooned on, giving it that same breadth of flavor and texture.
The Rangoons were as good as they get, crispy, creamy, slightly sweet. The gyoza was the stuff of my

dreams. There was something here that seemed familiar, yet absent from my life for many years. We worked together to figure out what made these ‘pot stickers’  a little better, a little lighter than those at the buffets. Angel finally nailed it. “The wrap is thinner.” She declared. Also, the innards were better as well, just a different recipe, a bit more garlic for an earthier, less artificial flavor. We’d both opted for the fried rice, which is one of the only two ways I will eat rice; fried or Krispie. It too was less burdened with lots of extra stuff. There was a slight sprinkling of veggies and meat, but once again, neat, tidy, clean and precise.
It should be no surprise that I didn’t try the California rolls in my bento box. That was okay, the chicken, the gyoza and the Rangoons were plenty filling. Angel agreed, even though it had appeared rather Spartan when delivered, it turned out instead to be more than enough food.
Summary:
Clean and precise, the food, the place and the staff. The tastes were so much cleaner and fresher than at most Chinese places. The price, thirty four and change before the generous tip. Was it that different and that much better? You bectcha.
Perhaps I'm a bit biased, what with having lived in Japan for three years, I accept that. We simply loved it, we could hardly stop talking about it.
Kazumi (I hope I'm spelling her name correctly) was a delight. Bright, charming, funny, helpful and professional.
I have no bad words. None. We will be back.


* The lacquered wood horses in the top photo are not from the restaurant. They are tokens of the region where I was stationed. They were called Hachinohe  or Tohoku horses, for the region and nearest city. We uncouth, uncultured GI's often called them Misawa Mules. Not unlike Kentucky, where I was whelped, That region of northern Honshu was historically famous for the quality of their horses. These brightly painted icons from my own collection are a celebration of that history. 

And here, the prettiest darn national anthem on the planet.
*Kimigayo - National Anthem of Japan

Pizza Junction

 Hillsboro. Mo
 On Facebook

* Very important disclaimer at the end of this post!


This choice was obvious. It's a brand new place in Hillsboro that we'd been been eagerly awaiting to open.
Before we start though, I'd like to give a shout out to a new friend, Suzi. She sent a nice email this past week and called Eat and Critique ". . .one of the highlights of my week". I of course, suggested she seek immediate counseling from a certified get-a-life coach. Anyway, she was very sweet and funny, and I always appreciate hearing form you, my loyal fans, as long as you're not one of those freaky nut jobs I occasionally hear from, or a Russian spammer... what is it with those guys anyhow?
Suzi also said "You go to some horrible restaurants. . ."  I couldn't completely disagree, but I can assure you this, I may indeed go to some horrible eateries, but this particular place is not one of them, at all.

The Place:
 A few months ago Bobby Munzert's closed its doors. A nice building at the northwest corner of the intersection of Highways 21 and B. Across from the mall (Dollar General).
A few weeks ago we noticed that the Munzert's sign had finally been taken down, but we also noticed a busyness around the place. Then signs and ads started popping up indicating that the spot was about to become Pizza Junction.
Hillsboro doesn't have a pizza joint, unless you count Imo's, which I don't. I was happy to hear that someone would be giving it a shot.
We arrived for lunch on Saturday for reasons I'll explain later*. Angela and I went, Adam was at work.*
The place had not been gutted, there would have been no reason  for that, it wasn't in bad shape before. As we entered the foyer we noticed that to the right, which had been the non-smoking dining area, was now an area that could be reserved for parties. In the foyer itself some large arcade machines had been installed. The  area on the left, which had been the bar/smoking area was now a bar/dining area. It had been filled in with nice booths, several of them. The motif was brown and black, the walls a neutral cream. Several overhead fans spun quickly. The lighting was muted, but more brightly than Munzert's had been. It smelled much better that I had remembered it, it now carried the narcotic aroma of yeast and garlic.
    It wasn't very busy when we arrived so we were told to sit wherever we liked. Two or three wall mounted TV's were on, muted, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I noticed they were not tuned to sports, but rather, the Discovery Channel. Finally, a bar/pizza joint that didn't assume that their patrons need a 24/7 sports fix.
On the back wall was a new-style jukebox, wall mounted, playing something contemporary. I'm not in to the music the kids are into these days, at least it wasn't too loud or offensive.
We sat back against the wall, I turned sideways and took up the entire bench. Sydney brought us the menus.
We snickered. The plain paper menus had been glued to a part of a pizza box lid. Cute.
We ordered our drinks, tea and sweet tea.
The menu was three pages, one for pizza the others dedicated to sandwiches, salads, etc.
I was tempted by the lighter salads, and sandwiches... yeah, right...PIZZA!
The Food:
There were a few pre-defined pizzas and they looked okay. But the interesting choice of toppings for a free-style was too good to pass up.
I made up my mind on a nine inch, traditional crust, with crab meat, pepperoni, Italian sausage, green peppers and onions. Yeah, Crab meat!
Angel picked a niner as well, thin crust, because she doesn't understand pizza. She topped it with shrimp, Italian sausage, black olives and mushrooms.
I was tempted to add another interesting option, sauerkraut. I know! Long time fans will realize the karmic irony of this from this review.
We assumed Adam would want some when he got home from work, so we also asked for a twelve inch  traditional 'Junction', to-go from the pre-defined list. It contained mostly meats. A twleve incher so we could all share it with him and not have to prepare any meals for the rest of the weekend. Mmmm, breakfast pizza.
While we waited I glanced around, taking in the changes. I liked it. It opens at eleven most days, and offers wi-fi. We wondered aloud about how Adam was doing at his new job. He'd only started the previous weekend, part time, but he seemed to like it.

12" 'Junction'

The aroma reminded me of the pizza places I'd worked at. Garcia's Pizza in a Pan in Rantoul, Illinois, (home of the Flying Tomato Brothers.) They had customized delivery cars, AMC Pacers, decorated with green plastic stems on their tops, you know, so it looked like a tomato.
I also worked at one in Springfield, I don't recall the name. I was officially a delivery driver at both, used my own car to get the mileage reimbursement. I also worked the back and learned a few tips and techniques of the business. The delivery bit also permanently odored my cars with that same delicious smell that I swooned over when I first stepped in this place, yeast and garlic. Lovely, simply lovely.
We watched the muted TV's, closed captioning was enabled. As best we could tell this was one of the newer reality shows devoted to documenting the stupid things rural hicks are willing to do to sustain a reality show.

Mine

In this episode the silly hillbillies were picking through a landfill for fortune and fame and then went out at night, hunting for mythological creatures. I didn't actually see any laying around, but I assumed copious amounts of alcohol were involved.
The pizzas arrived soon enough. They looked great. I knew I'd like mine, I'd already had a sample of one of the Junction's pizza's the weekend before*.
Sure enough it was thick, gooey, generously topped,  and very, very cheesy.
It looked bigger than nine inches, but I'm a guy and can't estimate sizes like that very accurately. The toppings and cheese extended all the way to the edges, no cutting of corners here. It seemed massive, I knew I wouldn't be able to finish the whole thing. That's what they make boxes for though.
The tea was okay, it wasn't too old or bitter.(insert wife joke here if you like, I won't. Angel occasionally reads these things.)

Angel's

Angel and I savored our pies. These were really, really good. She mentioned what I just did, that the toppings were generous and filled out to the edges. The crust was perfect, charred a little at the edges for some crispiness, not too thick to be too filling, perfect. The sauce, which I knew to be made in-house*, was great, once again nothing flashy, but good, fresh and generous. I came across the lumps of crab, I'd never had crab on a pizza before, I  can't recall it even having ever been an option. It was subtle, compared to the sausage, and I might have not even noticed it had I not been looking for it. But that's the nature of crab. The peppers and onions were finely chopped, I prefer larger pieces but that was a minor point.
 Most St. Louis Style shops and pies default to provel, that regionally popular, sweeter cheese blend. It's offered as an option at the junction though. Ours had a more 'traditional' provolone and mozzarella blend.  They also have different sauces, but I highly recommend the house sauce.
Summary:
 Sure enough, I only made it halfway through. Angel, probably because of her wafer-thin crust, finished all but one square. We had absolutely nothing to complain about, this was seriously good pizza.
Yeah, that good, better than all the local franchises, by far. There was obvious attention to quality and flavors.
The service was pretty good. I'm going to give them a break on the few minor serving errors. They've only been open a week and they hired the staff less than two weeks ago. The fact that Sydney came back to our table twice to confirm some details about our order I actually appreciated. She seemed to be working hard to get our order right, not just get it over with. She'll work out fine.
One more minor thing, easily fixable. There were no napkins on the tables. This was a problem as pizza, a hand-food, is messy. Especially if it is made well, and this was. We had to ask for napkin refills, but like I said, easily fixable. Angel pointed out that they also didn't offer silverware/plates like some of the snootier pizza joints did. I didn't see it as a problem and frankly, it didn't seem to slow Angel down much.
The bill for the two customized pies and the big take-home standard came to forty seven dollars and change. that sounds like a lot, but remember, breakfast pizza, mmmmmm! We ordered thirty combined inches (9+9+12)of pizza, that comes down to a little more than a buck an inch. Don't make me do the math for you.
I wish I could get  there for lunch during the week, they offer a pizza and salad buffet for a very reasonable price.
I highly recommend Pizza Junction. I'm always excited when a new place opens up in my adopted hometown, especially when it works hard to serve quality food at a good price. Pizza Junction succeeds at this, even in their first week.

* Disclaimer.
Yeah, now for all those asterisks. 
If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times, I am not a professional journalist. I'm a writer, a clown, and a very emotionally fragile and needy, yet undeniably handsome man. I do have ethics though, so I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that Adam's new job is at this very place, Pizza Junction. That's how I'd known it was good pizza, he'd brought some home after the soft-opening the previous weekend. He was in the back on this very day, and probably helped prepare our pies. We never saw him while we were there and we didn't want to skew the experience or interfere with his work, so we did not introduce ourselves. He pretty much guessed it though, six ingredients each on a pair of nine inch pies caught his attention, especially the shrimp and crab toppings. Not their typical orders. The sauerkraut would have nailed it.
So am I biased in my review? Maybe? No, not at all. I decided ahead of time that if it was bad, or worse, awful, that I'd recuse myself from reviewing it.
I did enjoy it though, I highly recommend it, whether Adam works there or not. It's a local place in a small town and I'm bound to have some sort of connection through family/friends at any locally owned place.
But I figured I better be up front with you about the familial connection.
Seriously, try it.

Captain D's

Festus, Mo.

Something came up here, or almost came up, that may affect my ability to review certain places objectively. I will try to continue, but we may have to alter our course a bit. More on this later.

The Place:
Sharing the lot with Home Depot and Tanglefoot, et al.
Generic, plastic, ubiquitous. The lighted sign towering above the place was not lit, the dim lighting inside made us think for a moment that it was closed. there were a few cars around it though and  as we pulled in we saw some people inside. There were also a couple  of cars in the drive through. Once we found the door, we went right in. The rope lined maze put us face on to a couple of posters on the wall showing some special meals. We read through them then headed toward the counter. Above it were the regular offerings, disjointed and not comprehensive. Scattered around were other photo'd menu items, here there, everywhere. I chose this place since I hadn't had fish and chip style fish in quite a while, and the weather was hot and weighing us down, burgers or steak or pasta seemed too heavy. Angel ordered first and quickly, one of the earlier specials. My train of thought exploded and I ordered without really thinking, one of the other specials. Adam was the only one of us that ordered pretty much what he knew he would going in.
The Food:
Angel had asked for the crab cake, fish and shrimp plate with corn on the cob and coleslaw. Adam got the chicken dinner with fries and slaw. I ended up with the eight piece shrimp and fish. When asked about sides I looked up at the menu, couldn't find them, and heard the counter lady tapping the counter in front of me, there it was, a small list. This selection would be my second mistake in the first sixty seconds since I stepped up to order. I asked for slaw and hush puppies. Stupid move.
The problem with that became stunningly obvious when I picked up the order. But I'm jumping ahead of the story. First we would have to wait for the order. To facilitate this we were handed one of those pager thingies with flashing lights. We gathered up our cups, poured our drinks and grabbed a few condiments and a bottle of malt vinegar. On the way we saw a couple more posters with offerings that sounded much better than what we'd ordered, these were past the place where orders were taken.
We found a booth by the window and waited. In a few minutes the pager started it's noisy and flashy orgasm. I rushed it up to the counter and was handed two trays.
We sorted it all out and I saw my big mistake. The eight piece shrimp and fish came standard with two hush puppies. The wasted side I ordered added four more to the hush puppy pile. My plate looked like an assortment of deep fried bread with a dollop of slaw. The one piece of fish, the thing I actually craved was tiny and thin in comparison to everything else. The pile of shrimp and hush puppies stood in stark, glaring contrast to my intentions of having a light meal. I like hush puppies, but two would have been fine. I really wanted more fish, less shrimp, if any.
Sure enough the puppies and shrimp were tasty, but really, really filling. I don't really like breaded shrimp very much. I prefer steamed/boiled/grilled shrimp, no breading, just with a little butter garlic and Old Bay. The fish was okay, but a little greasy.
Adam dunked his chunks and seemed to like them. The slaw was a problem though. "Is there celery in the slaw?" He asked his mom. She poked hers, I poked mine, didn't see any. "There might be celery seeds, they're tiny and have a strong celery taste." She said. This baffled me, I didn't know celery actually had a discernible taste. I said as much to which Adam replied "I guess I have  more refined tastes. I like celery by itself just not as an ingredient." This made Angel's eyes roll. She blamed me since I have the same opinion about nuts.
It was enough for him though, the rest of his slaw went untouched. I thought the slaw was fine, creamy and crisp. Angel said it was good "But it's not as good as KFC" she said. KFC's slaw is the gold standard for her. Hardly anyone's slaw measures up to that high bar.
Angel buttered up her corn and went to it like a buzz saw. I asked her about the crab cake. "The taste was okay, but it was mushy on the inside." She didn't seem too disappointed and I knew why, lowered expectations. We lived in Maryland for five years, THE place for crab cakes. Nowhere else, absolutely nowhere outside that state gets it right.
 Meanwhile I was starting to struggle, I felt uncomfortable, irritable. My meal had disappointed me and worse, it wasn't settling well. I left four puppies and three shrimp behind. I still felt I'd over done it. And here's why.
The Problem:
A few months back my doctor advised me that I needed to change my diet. My caveman style selections and habits were not rewarding me with any favors. Unlike the last twenty times I'd been told that I decided that he was probably worth paying attention to, that I'd go ahead an finally take strides to pay attention to what and when I ate.
This was quite a radical change for me, but I was/am committed. It became an adventure, a quest, a puzzle, a journey, a challenge, a dare. I started reading labels, learning about carbs and cholesterol, calories and sodium, etc. I established an area of the pantry that I would personally keep stocked with a variety of safe options. I doubled, even tripled the amount of fruits and green vegetables. I abolished sugar, enriched flour and starches (potatoes). I changed my haphazard/scavenging lunch to a measured amount of portable portions including raisins and a banana, every day. I completely gave up white bread, chips, pastries, and just about everything fried. Except for this one meal on Saturday evenings.
Its caused a problem though. I knew this going in to Captain D's, it's one of the reasons I chose fish. I didn't want a fast food burger because of my recent experiences with fast food burgers. They now make me ill, physically ill. Not critically, but they do jack up the ick factor enough to where I am useless for quite a while afterward. Even my much-loved sausage biscuits at Hardee's now have that sickening effect.
As we left Captain D's the problem manifested itself quickly. My mouth felt and tasted like I'd just had deep-fried road kill. My tummy knotted up. This may affect future choices of places to go on Saturday. I don't think I can be objective about fast food places anymore. I don't even like the look of them. One whiff of the grease and I start getting queasy.
However, I can't convince myself that this is a bad thing.
Summary:
Like I said, I can't be objective. The place made me sick. I'm sure though that it was me that was the problem. The initial taste was satisfying, I just ordered very poorly. I ordered the breaded shrimp and I don't even like breaded shrimp very much. I think some fish and slaw, and maybe a hush puppy would have been fine.
         As we were leaving Angel said to me: "I think Adam is the only person under forty in the entire place." I hadn't noticed, but a quick scan confirmed it. There were thirty or forty people eating there as we left all of them were our age or older. No kids, no teens, no young couples. I have no idea what this meant. Maybe just a coincidence, I can't be sure, just something we noticed.

The menu, broken up and spread out all over the place, made picking something very difficult. I regretted my choice immediately as I passed more offerings I was not aware of at the time of ordering.
I can't really give an opinion here, figure it out for yourself. My experience, though mostly my own fault, was lousy.