Finally – me and the old gang got to meet up for Shabu-Shabu at this awesome restaurant in J-town called Cafe Mums. We had the all-you-can-eat Shabu-shabu. Natch.
Dorsh was, by far, the champion of the ring – cleaning up approximately 3 plates of thinly sliced beef on her own. Scottie did the typical rookie move of eating way too much rice, thus, filling up prematurely on non-meat items. Sherwin’s and Scottie’s performance was abyssmal. Even their futile attempt to dump all their meat into the bubbling over shabu broth didn’t come close to half of what Dorsh ate.
In the end, we were stuffed beyond belief. I was buckled over, trying to breath, as if I had just completed a marathon. Judy disappeared to the bathroom for a good 45 minutes. And Sherwin was shuffling up the hill like an old Chinese man.
Before Dorsh ravaged the meat plate.
The vegetable plate that we had to force Dorsh to eat.
Representin’ PBT style. Clockwise from front: Judy, Me, Sherwin, Scottie, Sean and Dorsh
This is us about to puke. No more shabu-shabu for at least a year.