I should have bought the mochi ice cream...

Molly and I spent the evening in the Japanese corridor of the East Village, called Stuyvesant Street, which as far as I know has nothing to do with the fact that Stuyvesant High School, which is a few miles from it, is largely Asian, but it's a fun twist, just-desserts-wise, in that Peter Stuyvesant himself was something of a racist. That said, we went to Decibel, the basement sake bar where last year I'd celebrated my 21-ness, and then to a JAS mart, which is half Japanese supermarket, half convenience store for NYU kids. So the ramen acts as the only real crossover, in a place that sells everything from cheese-flavored Pringles to those tiny silver fish that act as a litmus test to highlight Western squeamishness.