Food Addict

I recently started eating sushi. I know, I’m a little late to jump on the bandwagon. It seems like those little Japanese rolls have been part of American pop culture cuisine for years, but for some, it took a while to warm up to them.

I originally didn’t like the idea of eating raw fish. When I think of raw fish, slimy animals with bugged eyes and flapping fins come to mind – not exactly a scrumptious image.

Then I discovered the seaweed factor and decided to forget about it. Celebrities and trendy hipsters can eat all the sushi they want. I won’t have a part in it.

I was only postponing the inevitable. Soon I too would call the taste of raw fish and seaweed heaven and find myself craving eel in the late hours of the night. I just didn’t know it then.
The first time I ate sushi, I went with a few friends from work. Nervously, I sat in the restaurant with them and buried my face into the menu. What looked good? What wouldn’t make me puke? I still didn’t feel brave enough to try raw fish, so I settled on the vegetarian roll, containing cucumber, avocado and other goodies wrapped in seaweed and rice.

My companions, all self-labeled “sushi experts,” proved more adventurous by picking bigger rolls with more ingredients and yes, raw fish.

Not only did my choice make me feel a bit foolish, but when our chilly entrees arrived, I discovered I was the only person present who didn’t know how to use chopsticks. I let out a jittery laugh and proclaimed “I think I’ll just use my fingers!” My friends threw a few giggles my way, but the experience turned me off to sushi.

Perhaps it wasn’t the sushi that disappointed me as much as my lack of adventure did. I think of myself as a risk-taker. I perform crazy dances in public, wear costume-like clothes to class and list skydiving as one of my top life goals. Therefore, I couldn’t understand why I failed to nail this sushi thing.

After that initial disappointment with my friends, I didn’t try sushi again until just last week. One day, as I pondered over where to get lunch, I felt a little pulse directing me toward sushi. I can’t explain it. I just knew I had to have it that day.

Ah, the joys of being a food addict. I never know where it’s going to lead me.

I got my hands on a California roll. It’s pretty basic: crab and avocado, wrapped in seaweed and rice. My apprehension of raw seafood still stood, but crab seemed normal enough. I stepped up a bit, but didn’t take too big of a leap. For this, I patted myself on the back before I even tasted the roll.
I started with a thin piece of pink gari, known as sushi ginger and generally served to help clean the mouth between servings, but I wanted to put off the fish. The gari tasted like perfume.

Then, plastic fork in hand, I picked up a small roll and shoved it in my mouth. I chewed, swallowed and loved what I tasted. The raw crab didn’t disgust me. Rather, it gave my taste buds waves of flavor they had never experienced before. My mouth became caught in a sort of ecstasy as I devoured piece after piece and the fishy flavor of crab, rice and seaweed continued to grace my tongue.

I finished the roll in less than five minutes and for the rest of the day, all I could think of was sushi. So the next day, I attempted an eel roll.

From sushi, I learned not to fear food. For the most part, food is a friend. Even raw food has a little warmth to offer.

FRANCY MARCOTTE
Culture Editor

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