Adventures in Sushi

This evening my darling husband took me out for my first real Sushi experience. I'm sure I made quite an idiot of myself with awkward attempts at using chop sticks. My internal mantra for the evening: "They've seen this and worse. They've seen this and worse." It wasn't very helpful. Never in my life have I felt so utterly and completely out of my culinary comfort zone. And I refused to ask for a fork. Just stubborn, I guess.

Hubs has been enjoying Sushi for a while. He's quite pleased when he finds a good piece of Sashimi tuna. He was disappointed when my Sashimi tuna experience ended discreetly folded in a paper napkin. I did try. My brain refused to get past the "Good gravy, I'm eating raw fish!" feeling. I chewed twice. I considered my options. I took the napkin.

The evening wasn't a total failure. The Tempura Veggie starter was delicious; subtle flavours and a couple of surprises the biggest of which was a wedge of deep fried apple. I liked it with the soy sauce dip. Sweet and salty, how can a person go wrong? I enjoyed the Maki greatly. I couldn't identify anything I ate except the California Rolls and the Unagi. Unagi could easily become a favourite of mine since the flavour quickly got me past the "ewwww" factor of the tiny, wiry bones. I think, however, one of the most lovely parts of the evening was simply the presentation.

Maki Rolls are lovely little mosaics adorned with jewel-toned fish roe. Seafoam rosettes of wasabi, lacy piles of pink pickled ginger, the diorama of seafood and sticky rice. I've never been one to photograph my restaurant meals, no matter how elaborate the presentation, but the Sushi tempted me. In the end I didn't do it. I just enjoyed, eating with my eyes first and my belly second. Oh, and my fingers, much to hubby's chagrin.