dianaschnuth

From the recesses of the inbox:

from: Diana Schnuth
to: Aaron R. Schnuth
date: Tue, Jul 15, 2008 at 1:13 PM
subject: during today’s walk

I’ll probably end up blogging about this later…

I was walking up by Promenade Park when a college kid with a clipboard approached me. I decided to actually let him do his spiel, since he was polite about it. He said that he was collecting signatures to put an issue on the ballot: the government is apparently taxing cash advance companies out of existence, and “we” feel that the issue should be put to the voters, instead of letting the government decide. Since I think cash advance places are a Very Bad Idea, and only make bad finances worse, I politely told him I’d pass, but thanks for approaching me. I love being nice when I reject someone, because they get really confused. This kid was no exception – it took him until I nodded my goodbyes and taken two steps away before he managed a Have A Nice Day. Heh.

Then, past the other side of Promenade Park, there was a college chick with a cooler on a wheeled luggage caddy. She asked if I’d like some free bottled water, and I said yes, and steeled myself for whatever proselytization I’d just agreed to. She just handed me a water and a flyer and bid me good day. The flyer? Was for Cash AdvantEdge, located inside Rent-A-Center on Starr Ave. The bottled water had a custom label, too (which, incidentally, said nothing about the number of fluid ounces in the bottle).

When I took another turn around the park about 20 minutes later, there were a bunch of young people huddled under a tree, comparing notes and packing backpacks. I’m guessing they all came out with their various methods of spreading the word, and spent the lunch hour ensnaring the downtown workers (who, interestingly enough, probably don’t need cash advances).

I just thought that was amusingly transparent, and probably not very effective overall.

Incidentally, that issue was on the ballot for the November election, and I voted against the cash advance places, in favor of more restrictive lending.

Over a month ago now, Aaron and I were planning to take Aaron’s brother out to lunch at the Saigon Bistro, the only Vietnamese restaurant in Toledo. When we arrived, we were angered and confused that the “Closed” sign was up. Upon closer inspection, they were VERY closed: the decorations had been removed from the foyer, and pots and pans were strewn about the dining area. Only then did we catch the significance of the truck and trailer that were parked in front.

The Saigon Bistro was closed. For good.

While we were contemplating where we were really going to eat lunch, I posted this unusually profane tweet:

Last weekend, Aaron and I drove past the restaurant again, just to make sure they hadn’t been doing some major remodeling, or moved to another location. Alas, all the signage had been removed from the building, and a Restaurant For Lease sign was posted where the Closed sign used to be.

Writing a review is pointless now. Suffice to say that the Saigon Bistro had been one of our favorite restaurants, and became our go-to when we weren’t sure what was for lunch. I sincerely miss my bún and chrysanthemum tea. Aaron was partial to the phở, which was also quite delicious.

I guess that when we want Vietnamese food now, we’ll have to make a pilgrimage to Ann Arbor or Cleveland or some other more culinarily savvy city.

We miss you, Saigon Bistro.

When I announced my intention to go on my normal lunch walk today, my supervisor looked at me like I was crazy.

“In this weather?”

Granted, the snow was coming down steadily, and the temperature was hovering around 12°F. But I was going to be hardcore — exercise is probably the best way to break through my two-month weight-loss plateau, after all, and there’s no time like the present. No excuses.

Then she suggested I check out the tunnels beneath COSI, across the street. I’d only been down there once or twice, and always with other co-workers. I admitted that maybe today would be a good day to check it out on my own.

After not five minutes of walking outside, I made up my mind, and headed into the KeyBank building…

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Fujiyama Restaurant is about two miles from our house; even if it weren’t so conveniently located for us, though, I think we’d probably frequent this Japanese establishment more than the others in town.

Being the creatures of habit we are, Aaron and I tend to find something that works for us and stick with it. That said, although we stick with makizushi these days, we’ve tried several of the entrees at Fujiyama in the past, and haven’t been disappointed with any of them. The shrimp tempura is huge, and could easily be shared by two people. The nabeyaki udon is also very large and very delicious.

Ordering from the sushi menu wasn’t always up our alley, either; we used to prefer to pick the pre-selected sushi dinners, so we wouldn’t have to choose from so much delicious sushi that we weren’t really familiar with. The U.S. Collection was one of my favorites (Alaskan, Boston, California, and Philadelphia Maki). The sushi entrees also come with miso soup and salad (with the standard ginger dressing), so they’re a great deal for a lot of food.

Lately, though, we order our sushi a la carte, from the sushi menu. We always start with a shiitake mushroom roll (one of the best in town) and usually a Philadelphia roll (possibly THE best in town). Beyond that, there are a wide variety of rolls to choose from, ranging from inexpensive vegetarian rolls all the way up to the Love Hotel (delicious, but expensive – see photo, left).

Most of the rolls at Fujiyama are inside-out rolls, with the rice on the outside and the veggies and protein on the inside. This leaves the outside available for the sesame seeds that we so enjoy, and that make Fujiyama’s rolls just a little different from the others. Also worth noting is the size of the less expensive rolls; they all seem fairly large, unlike some other places in town that skimp on their cheaper vegetarian rolls.

(Top to bottom: shiitake mushroom, veggie futo, and Philly rolls)

Between the two of us, we generally order five rolls — four reasonably priced and one more expensive — plus an appetizer and tea. This usually runs us around $40, which seems to be on the less expensive side of sushi in Toledo.

Of the half-dozen sushi establishments we’ve visited in Toledo, Fujiyama remains our favorite. Their rolls are decently sized and reasonably priced, the presentation and plating is classy and unique, the service is always pleasant and prompt, and their location is ideal for us (and for University of Toledo students).

Fujiyama is highly recommended by Diana! If you’re ever in Toledo, and you like Japanese food, definitely give it a try.

Dear Commissioner Welch:

I live on a residential street — on a dead-end street, in fact, in the last house on the street. Understandably, ours is not one of the first streets to be cleared of snow. In fact, the main streets are often cleared by the city days or weeks before our neighborhood streets are finally clear (generally due to a natural melt-off, rather than any city intervention). When our neighborhood does get plowed and salted, very rarely do any of the trucks clear our end of the street.

While I do understand that supplies and manpower are limited, especially in this time of economic hardship, and I also understand that Phase IV roadways have the lowest priority, I cannot help but feel slighted. After all, my husband and I do pay city taxes, just like residents of the more trafficked streets; part of the service we expect in return is that of safe access to our home.

Thanks to the ice storm we experienced approximately 36 hours ago, our neighborhood streets are several inches thick in solid ice. I will be pleasantly surprised if city trucks come through and clear our streets before Mother Nature does the job herself, as temperatures are expected to rise well above freezing in the days ahead.

While I don’t truthfully expect any change in the response time of the city anytime soon, I at least wanted to make my displeasure known. Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,
Diana M. Schnuth