5 star dining


Dining In The Clouds: Why yakumo saryo Is Tokyo’s Most Unforgettable Dining Experience

In an unexpected location deep inside residential Meguro lies the most unforgettable dining experience imaginable – forget Michelin, forget the World’s 50 Best – for this restaurant writer, it’s the discreet, understated otherworldliness of yakumo saryo that wins the race.


Originally posted by jeonghney

i watched the devil wears prada again and i’m like oooo but what about having jeonghan as miranda and i’m like YES I LOVE IT. YES. I NEED THIS. fam, you bet i’m feeling this au. 

  • ok so jeonghan is probs the scariest person in this fashion magazine, LiKE miranda, he probs make people look the other way, walk the other way, and like gets elevators for him. bc jeonghan is a bad bitch who you don’t want to anger.
  • he WANTS perfection. anyone who gets in his way will probably hear it from one of his assistants. he’ll give them the dirty work of firing anyone. 
  • but that’s only because he wants to be on top of all the other magazines. 
  • excuse you, he has a legacy to uphold. a legacy of 20+ years and he will not let anyone get in the way. 
  • which is why you’re probs his favorite assistant. he’ll open his mouth, and you already have it for him. and he’ll just give you a little smile before going back to work. 
  • and he isn’t vocal about liking you, but he’s just like, “huh ur not worthless”
  • and you know that his way of telling you he likes youtlike he fired all the other assistants in a span of three weeks, but for some reason you’ve been here for a year
  • and yeah, at first, he was on ur ass about anything
  • like you got a belt that was slightly off color (the black was not the same shade of black like the center, it was slightly greener)
  • and he used to give you disproving looks for the chanel shoes you wore
  • but you were the first assistant in the three years he’s been working to get his coffee order right so he kept you around.
  • he literally ony kept you because you could get coffee. his standards are that high.
  • he makes you go to all the previews, the shows, and all the fittings. 
  • like you might be on the phone with one of the designers, and he’ll hang up on them for you
  • and be like, “you can thank me later” 

Keep reading

Contents: 00q, is this a Canadian Shack fic? It might be. Anyway, Q and James are on holiday and it doesn’t quite go as planned.

Warnings: none really…

It was supposed to be a pleasant holiday in the Swiss Alps. It was supposed to be an opportunity to teach Q to ski, cuddle up in front of the fire, sip hot cocoa spiked with peppermint schnapps.

That’s what it was supposed to be.

That is not what it was.

“‘Luxury Resort’ you said,” Q groused as he pulled pillows out of the cupboard next to the bed. “‘Your every desire catered to!’ James, this god-forsaken shack doesn’t even have wi-fi.”

James had to admit that the cabin was a bit more rustic than he’d been intending. As in, build-your-own-fire heating and definitely no room-service. Luckily the kitchenette came stocked with the basics, but Q was having none of it.

“It’s only for tonight, darling,” James tried to soothe. Q leveled his best death-glare at James and continued pulling blankets and more blankets out of the closet. “Luxury resort first thing tomorrow.”

Q made a noise of utter disgust and began throwing all the extra bedding onto the double bed across the room from the open fireplace. James had immediately built a fire, of course, but there was still a chill in the room. Q still had his parka zipped up to his chin.

Dinner was filling if not 5-star dining quality. James did his best, but there’s only so much you can do with canned beans, two burners and sub-par pans. Q ate silently, glaring at James the entire dinner, and James started to feel a bit sheepish about the subterfuge. He’d just wanted some uninterrupted time with Q - something he didn’t get a lot of in London.

“The view is gorgeous,” James tried, nodding to the full, floor-to-ceiling plate-glass window that overlooked the valley with a tiny village nestled in the bottom. “Lauterbrunnen is gorgeous this time of year, isn’t it?”

The village was laid out beneath them under a blanket of snow, the lights glowing invitingly in the dark.

“It’d be more gorgeous from the balcony of a five-star hotel.” Q’s words were cold and bit at James’ already bruised ego. Q wasn’t going to let this go so easily.

“You can’t get this view from a five-star hotel. Only here… I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Q sighed and he pulled his blanket more firmly around his shoulders. He hadn’t been without it since they’d arrived, no matter how high James stoked the fire.

“It is pretty,” he admitted.

“You know, the name of the town means ‘many fountains.’”

Q hummed noncommittally and  shoved another bite of food into his mouth.

James pursed his lips, wondering what on earth could get Q to relent, at least enough to kiss him goodnight. At this rate he was certain he’d be on the sofa regardless.

“We used to go hiking here in the summer sometimes. My father and I. I must have only been six or eight, but I remember finding all these waterfalls and asking if I’d discovered a new one every single time. About the twelfth time I asked, Da relented and told me I had - I’m sure it wasn’t true, but I was pleased as punch to have done it - and promptly named it ‘Bond Falls.’ Bizarrely apropos, as it turned out.” James paused, contemplated his beans. The only reason he’d even wanted to come here was so he could let go of some of that history - if he had new memories here perhaps the past wouldn’t sting quite so deep. Q shifted in his chair, and James pulled himself out of the self-reflection. “Well, anyway, I just–”

“You could have just told me,” Q interrupted.

James looked up, and Q was contemplating him in that way he had that stripped him of all artifice.

“You could have just said, ‘Q, we’re going to this little town where I used to go on holiday with my family and it’s going to be a bit rustic’ instead of this rigamarole about ski resorts. I know it’s habit, James, but– I guess… I’m not mad that it’s rustic so much as I’m upset that you didn’t just tell me. Does that makes sense?”

And suddenly it smacked James in the face like a brick at terminal velocity: he’d lied to Q. Flat-out misled him. And it wasn’t done maliciously or with ill intent, but it had been a lie all the same and his appetite suddenly vanished.

“Oh, don’t look like that,” Q said, and waved his hand at James across the table. “You’re forgiven. There. But talk to me next time, yeah?”

James nodded, smiled, and reached for Q’s offered hand and squeezed.

“Thank you, Q.”

“You are completely ridiculous, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.”


It was some time in the middle of the night that James woke shivering. The fire had all but died, and it was nearly cold enough in the cabin to see his breath. James rolled off his side of the bed and tried to pull a blanket around himself to go stoke the fire again, but all of them were wrapped around Q, over, under, the only part of him that was visible was the top of his head.

“Simon,” James whispered, tugging on the top-most blanket. “Simon, wake up, you’re hogging all the blankets.”

“Mmmmfffffrmg,” came the reply, but the blanket in question was relinquished, James stoked the fire until it was crackling merrily again, and then returned to bed.

He took his time as he unwrapped Q. He coaxed each blanket out of the death-grip Q had on them and laid them neatly at the end of the bed, then slipped in and wrapped an arm around Q’s middle, pulling him tight against his chest.

He carefully arranged the blankets over the both of them, pressed his nose against the back of Q’s neck, and drifted back to sound, dreamless sleep.

From this.

Tis Best Not To Discuss The Price of The Wine
At what was otherwise a pleasant dinner recently (in the sky in Toronto, Canada) an ill prepared waiter panicked when I asked him for a wine recommendation and he started to ask me about the price I wanted to pay for a bottle with my dinner. We all know you can't put a price on a great bottle of wine, but to get serious for a moment: I found it awkward and unnecessary to discuss such a matter in from of the rest of my party. Staff need to be trained properly to confidently discuss the wine cellar.   MY TIP: Ask me about region, pair it with my meal, and direct me to the price with your hand while pointing out suggestions on the wine list.