Fantasized lately? Pretended you were a secret agent man — or leader of the underworld — or American businessman in a foreign country sharing katsu with a geisha? 

 

Living out fantasies, according to Dr. Suess, forms the cornerstone of existence. “I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells,” he wrote. “Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living.”

Certainly, at some point in your life while driving down the street, you turned your steering wheel into the joystick of an Abrams tank and blew the chatty soccer mom on her cell phone in front of you driving 25 mph in a 35 mph zone into a thousand tiny bits — or at least fantasized you did. Felt good, right?

Dr. Suess says “thumbs up.” And keep it up. After all, fantasy relieves stress.

Restaurants provide excellent backdrops for fantasy when you know where to look. Some of the most memorable scenes in movies took place in restaurants. Remember when Michael Corleone took out his archenemies eating spaghetti with a gun hidden behind the toilet? How about the scene in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom when Indie makes a mess of the Shanghai nightclub? 

Imagine the world you might create within the right framework for your imagination. It takes a good meal and an intriguing set-up to pull it off, but when you do, it’s a magical evening. And, it’s available nightly in Lakewood’s International District inside two Asian restaurants behind, of course, closed doors. 

Shoji

Intrigue and seduction await behind those little screened off rooms in Asian-type restaurants — or at least, one hopes they do. You’ve seen them — rooms with a low table, folks in their socks sitting crossed legged on the floor as servers rush in and out with plates of food and drink. Suddenly the doors close and those sitting in steerage have only their imaginations to finish the story.

Popular across Asia, here in the South Sound few Asian restaurants offer dining rooms behind screens known as shoji. 

 

Panels made from wood inset with windows of translucent rice paper, shoji screens arrived in Japan from China during the Han Dynasty where they became synonymous with Japanese dining. In Japan, the screen serves to illuminate a room, create a calming effect as well as serve as both an art form and a functional room divider. Frank Lloyd Wright later brought the design element from Japan to America and popularized them. Today, these rooms function as conference centers or private dining rooms. I’ve noticed most people dine with the screens open, but no one cares if you slide them shut. And, they are typically available for the asking.

Kyoto Japanese Restaurant

Private rooms make for a fun evening, but only when the food warrants the occasion. Kyoto Japanese restaurant (8722 S. Tacoma Way, Lakewood) features four screened rooms known in Japan as tatami, but more importantly, the food steals the show.

 

The South Sound is blessed with great Japanese restaurants — sushi places, teriyaki joints, and steak houses. Kyoto combines all three into one stellar package.

Kyoto features both intimate rooms for six, to one large space seating 10. The screened doors move a little rickety, and the steps make it difficult for the servers to get in and out, however the experience overshadows any of the technical glitches. And, for those that shudder at the thought of sitting crossed legged on the floor, Kyoto’s floor sinks so diners actual sit on mats with their legs hanging down to the sub floor. Nice.

I dine frequently at Kyoto because the food draws me back. The sushi tastes fresh, the meat is solid, the seafood finishes sweet — nothing is compromised. And after a few Kirin beers I like to slide the screen door shut, turn to my wife and ask her to rub my shoulders like a good little geisha. This does not amuse her.

Honey Pig

Admittedly, I hate the name — Honey Pig (9104 S. Tacoma Way, Lakewood). Once known as Dorribon (a much better moniker), the owners ditched their classic Korean plan and added tabletop barbecues to feature Korean barbecue prepared by the diners. 

 

While the name is odd, the results are not. The food rocks my taste buds, fills my tummy, and does so in a novel way. I enjoy cooking my own meat — especially when the product arrives shaved down into easy grilling pieces — coated with Korean spice such as sweet barbecue sauce. Accompanied by the typical side dishes, or banchan, the Honey Pig’s entire menu inspires and delights.

 

With all of that said, the do-it-yourself barbecue ends in the dining room — the three rooms behind screens lack cooking pits. But, for a lack of cooking space, the rooms make up with classy décor. A step above Kyoto’s set-up, these rooms feature solid screen doors that roll nicely with beautifully appointed moldings and art. They lack a sub floor so expect your joints to snap, crackle and pop when you stand, but who cares? And heck, you don’t have to cook your own meat; instead all of the options are still available and prepared by the master chefs in the kitchen. 

As for the fantasy? I like to close the screen door and tell my wife that I can make an offer she can’t refuse. She tells me she has a headache.

Now, everyone sing: “Secret, agent man; secret, agent man; 

They’ve given you a number and taken away your hunger.”