Sushi
When
it comes to food, my mother taught me never to eat anything that I couldn’t
recognize. Because of this admonition, I endeavor to eat only that which I can
identify. This works well because my culinary tastes follow along the line of meat
and potatoes, some vegetables and lots of sweets. Mother also said, “skip the
meal and have dessert.”
When
I travelled a lot, I was exposed to a wide variety of questionable food.
Sitting around a campfire in the African bush, I was treated to food that tasted
like chicken but could have been something else. In Mexico, dining at a church meal,
I ate a marinated dish of goat’s head. Mother would never approve.
My
first experience with sushi was in Portland with my oldest son and family. Sitting
in a restaurant at a table next to a conveyor belt featuring an endless parade
of fish dishes, I was encouraged to take one. When I asked what fish it was, they
told me to eat it, I would like it. I could hear mother whispering “Don’t! You
won’t like it.”
This
past week was Judy’s birthday. I suggested a meal of burgers, hot dogs and
potato salad: all recognizable food. Reading her body language, I then suggested
she choose. Yep, she chose sushi. What a treat: all kinds of raw fish in a
rainbow of color, wrapped in white rice with sides of sliced ginger root and
wasabis. A meal to die for. All I could think of mom’s admonition. I ate but
made sure whatever it was got thoroughly soaked in soy sauce and washed down
with wine.
All
was not lost. Knowing Judy also had a sweet tooth, I drove to Costco earlier in the day and came
home with a delicious cheesecake. Lighting a candle, singing Happy Birthday and
savoring the taste. I finally ate something I could recognize. If only we had
started with dessert!
