California Rolled - Sushi in the Inland Empire

The desert people of the Inland Empire have been smacking their parched lips together for good Japanese restaurants for a long time. Ten years ago it would have been impossible to review more than a couple of sushi joints in the "greater" (ha ha) Inland Empire, but there seems to be a surge of new Japanese eateries worth a visit in the I.E. Most seem to center around the Redlands area, but we'll try to reach out into the nether regions as well.
We'll take a look at each restaurant for overall food quality, price, and the ever important 'ambiance' that a good Japanese restaurant should emit.
*Please feel free to email us favorites in your area.

1. Ocean Blue, Orange Street, Redlands.

So the first good thing is that the old Redlands train station buildings are still being used for something worthwhile.
The bad thing is that the Krikorians are still reaping high rents for their delapitated buildings. (The bathroom ceilings were leaking during a rainstorm when we visited. BAD landlords!) When "that family" drove out Jazz and Java next door, Ocean Blue was just cutting their teeth and we're glad to see they have stuck it out, (despite the evil landlords) because they have real tasty Japanese food.

My brother told me to get the Baked Lobster Roll ($12.95) and it did the trick - filling, fresh, and rich. I liked the lobster roll with a house salad and the extras they give you when you walk in (miso soup and a teaser of endamame) as a complete
meal, so filling the roll was. My nephew Eric got the BBQ Shrimp Dinner ($12.95 including a bento box of tempura goods). The steaming shrimp plate comes with lots of vegetables, plenty of fresh shrimp, and since it was gone in about 5 minutes (he's a
growing boy, my nephew) I know it was good. The one shrimp I did manage to wrangle off the 12 year old tasted as good
as it should; garlic basted, and grilled just right.

Ocean Blue is the Go To when you want consistency. The best part, I think, is the service and the little extras. Smooth
green tea without asking, several server drive-bys, mochi ice cream at the end of each evening meal, and an overall
atmosphere of polish, (read: more like a traditional restaurant in Japan).
On a friday night they were consistently busy; table empties, table fills. Wax on, wax off. A sure sign of success!
They were also extra nice to my nephew, and I liked that also. Arigato!
www.oceanbluesushi.com



2. Fuji Restaurant, 41025 Big Bear Blvd., Big Bear Lake. 909-866-8108

Sitting in Fuji Restaurant on Big Bear Boulevard, eating sashimi and fresh salmon at 6,000 feet elevation with snow on the
ground outside, I have that 'only in California' feeling. Far from the ocean, waters, or airports necessary to provide the kind
of fish found on Fuji's menu, I'm left wondering where it all came from.
Visiting on a friday night, the locals and visitors were crowding (for Big Bear) Fuji and that's always a good sign. My
cousin Keith was visiting from Portland, Oregon, a place famous for fresh salmon and good Japanese restaurants, so we
thought we'd give Fuji a try.

It was my second visit, (the first time I had Udon noodles, ($7.25 and tasty!) so I thought it best to try the dinner menu.
I ordered tempura again because I just can't get enough and its always a good judge of how greasy a restaurant can get.
Trying to make tempura at home is a battle of the frying pan, often coming out dripping and soggy. So any decent
Japanese restaurnt should have good tempura, correct?

The Fuji Combinations came with miso soup, rice, a japanese salad, and tea, ($13.50) I got choice D. with sashimi and a
California Roll, a true test if there ever was one. Tuna Sashimi; good, fresh. The octopus, or whatever it was makes my
throat itch so I don't usually eat it anyway. The Roll? decent, nothing spectacular.
My cousin seemed to like his tempura Udon bowl right fine, but maybe he was just being nice because he was visiting?

The Big Bear version is one of three Fuji restaurants, so I don't know if that's the reason for the 'flat' atmosphere. Nothing
special in the way of ambiance, it almost looks like a Chinese restaurant, not that there's anything wrong with
that...The folks who run the place are quiet and I'm not sure why that bugs me a little. But maybe they're quiet because
they have to deal with all of the weird, down the hill flatlanders who seem to pepper the place on a friday night like when
we visited. If you have to deal with a bunch of Mr. and Mrs. Tim Broady snowboarders over forty on a continual basis it can
probably get to you after a while.
Next time I think I'll go for Lunch.

3. Cabin Sushi in downtown Riverside - quite possibly the best in the Inland Empire.

4. Yamazato - the Classic on Hospitality Lane

Stealing Buddha

I was out driving one afternoon when I came across a concrete sculpture garden, the kind of place that pops up unexpectedly on the sides of dusty roads here in the Inland Empire. The kind of place you never stop for.
It wasn't the kind of place you would look for a Buddha, but I found one amidst the St. Francis statues and tiled bird baths. It was a well tarnished boddhisatva, about two feet high, and smiling just the way a Buddha should. I payed for him with my visa, had the guy help me get him into the car, (Buddha was heavy!) seat belted him in, and took off for home. I was planning on years of enjoyment from my Buddha, and the instant gratification of sped up enlightnement was filling my heart with all sorts of happiness.
When I got home, he was so heavy I couldn't get him into the yard, so I left him in the driveway, just for the night I thought.
Big mistake.
The next morning I realized I had tested the universe. Someone had stolen my Buddha. How could this be? I'm sure stealing a Buddha is on par with stealing an Amercican Flag, robbing a church, tipping cows, or any other various sacreligious acts. But it happened. I asked a neighborhood friend, a monk in regular clothes, what I should do and if this stolen Buddha was just an icon, it wasn't the Buddha, right?
Monk friend said: "I don't know."
I struggled as my friend told me that I hadn't bought the Buddha for myself, but rather, I had bought it for someone who needed it more then me.
That's a tough one to wrap you mind around, but isn't Buddhism, my friend reminded me, about objectified notions of reality? About not placing material value on any one thing; the impermanance of nature being more substantial evidence of a 'supreme being.'
Hmmmm. There is a definite bonus to understanding impermanance. You can't buy the Buddha with a visa card, who was I kidding? Besides, the interest rate on a Buddha would be out of this world.
I understand a little better now.
But right now, with the forest singed behind my home, the impermanance of nature glaring at me from below the ashes, and all kinds of emotions welling up inside of me, I kinda wish I had my Buddha back.

Helicopters in My Trees

Today starts day 9 of mandatory evacuation in Running Springs. How we got back up here before everybody else is a story best left for a campfire (contained), or a pool party. I just got done talking with firefighters (nice young men) patrolling my charred backyard. They're down there putting out hotspots and listening on their radios for comands from the zooming helicopters that have been circling our neighborhood for the last week. The first day back I was alarmed at the sound of helicopters so close, hovering at eye level about 200 feet (maybe?) away from my now singed back deck. Helicopter noise always sounds trouble; escaped convicts, car chases, train wrecks, and forest fires.
I've had 'copters in my dreams for at least the last four nights, but never in a 'James Bond' kind of way, sweeping me and my ball gown from atop some swanky high rise in Monacco. The helicopters in my dreams are more like the ones outside using infared technology to spot fires still hot enough to detect. Then they make a computer generated map showing the neighborhoods (in this case Running Springs, Live Oak area) that still need 'attention.' Then they pass the maps out to the fire scouts, (the nice young men in my backyard). The code name for my neighborhood is "Julia" as in: "Julia is looking good" or "Julia needs immediate attention."
If I just remember that the loud buzzing sound of helicopters, that even my hyper sensitive dog is now used to, indicates that there is a strong fire protection squad in total command of the situation, then maybe I can relax, just a little. And for that sense of calm that I am hoping returns very soon, for that reason I should be thankful for the helicopters in my trees.