Breakfast Of Pessimists.
Having Natto in the morning guarantees that the worst thing that could happen to you all day already has.
No, I don’t really believe that. I actually rather like the stuff. But I have no idea if it’s possible to eat it without getting strings of sticky fermented soybean all over your face and shirt.
It was a bad morning already; I was late for an 8:30 AM meeting, so I ran, pushing aside old women, and marched into the conference room 5 minutes late, dripping with sweat…to discover that someone had rescheduled the meeting in an email sent at 8:20AM. I figured it was a sign, so I went to Cafe Tomo for the Natto breakfast.
I’ve read that it’s not so popular outside of Tokyo, so I feel vaguely yet appropriately urban ordering it. But while I love to feel metropolitan, there’s no point in subjecting yourself to this if you don’t actually enjoy the flavor.
Or the odor. The fan is on, the to-go container is in the kitchen trash, and I think I should go brush my teeth before the rescheduled meeting. Of course, it’s also their fault that I had natto this morning…