June 18th is International Sushi Day. How about a book and a story…
While I have several Chinese cookbooks, I only have one book about Japanese cooking, “Recipes: The Cooking of Japan” 1969, Time-Life Books. It talks about preparing interesting Japanese recipes as well as information about the food. There is a great chapter on sushi.
I have enjoyed sushi a lot; wonderfully done in Japan several times I have traveled there. Also some authentic restaurants in San Francisco and San Jose when visiting my cousin. The first time with sushi however, is an interesting story.
In the middle 1980’s, I ran a Woolworth store in Chicago, on Belmont street, only a few blocks from Wrigley Field. I had a small staff, in this diverse neighborhood. I hired a kid-Joey, who lived about a block away. It was his first job and his mother came along, waiting during the interview. I knew her from her shopping in the store. Anyway, I hired him, and she was happier than he was. He was just unenthused sixteen year-old, and Mom wanted the discipline that a job would provide, and to Americanize him . I slowly was able to turn him around. Joey’s mom was so happy.
His mom had moved from Okinawa ten or twelve years ago. One day she came into the store to ask to buy seven sets of silverware. Not seven boxes for service of eight, but seven knives, forks, and spoons. As I got them for her, she stated to me that she and her sister were opening a Japanese restaurant that would be like eating back home-it would be for ‘locals” and she needed silverware for the restaurant-just seven sets. She then gave me a small invitation for the special opening.
I drove to the resaurant-about 15 minutes away. It was a little place, with five tables. As luck had it, I was able to soon be seated in small table near back. I was the only non-Japanese person there. Eyes were on me, but Joey’s mother was ecstatic when she saw me (her sister had seated me). She grabbed a menu and talked about it. I knew nothing about what was on the menu, as I had never eaten Japanese food, so she said to try a tempura plate, and a sushi plate. I agreed with the decision, just asked for a Coke to wash down something that may not taste great.
First was the Tempura sampler. It was beautiful fried food, artfully arranged on a lacquered plate. I painfully tried using the chopsticks. All eyes were still on me. Then came a sampler of sushi. Joey’s mom showed me how to eat sushi, and ate I did, once I could get the chopsticks to work. I enjoyed it, and told her so. I think everyone enjoyed watching me. She asked if I would like to try more? I replied “sure.” A different plate of sushi came out. I ate those with relish. I did have one, I believe squid, that was chewy, but I enjoyed the experience. Again she came out, and again I got a different plate. A tuna and a smoked eel were the best. Some fish eggs were weird but interesting. Red fish, white fish, orange fish, opaque fish; I ate a bunch of different types of sushi (unknown fish parts), perhaps twenty, and enjoyed them all-mostly. I was full.
Joey’s aunt then came out with the bill. I looked at it and almost fainted. It was $53 dollars! This was forty years ago! I had a credit card, my first and still rather new. As I was reaching for my wallet, I was thinking of how to explain to my wife that I had just spent a fortune on this dinner for one. Joey’s mom ran up, and got into an argument about me and my bill. She did not want me to pay, and her sister did want me to pay. Back and forth they argued in Japanese. I wanted to pay, just did not realize how much food I had consumed, and tired of all the eyes still on me.
Joey’s mother finally won. I did not have to pay, but I felt guilty. So I went in the next week to order (a lot less of) a meal. Then went back several times a week for a month to order these rice balls to go. They were a plain rice ball that had a packet of seasoning to sprinke on them. I would eat those rice balls on my drive home from work-a 45 mile drive. I felt I worked off my debt.
Jumping ahead a decade or two, I went with my cousin to a new Japanese restaurant in California that would roll dishes past us, and we would pick what we wanted to eat. He warned me about eating too much as we paid for what we eat, but I reassured him with a knowing laugh and shrug, that I had made that mistake a long time ago. He was puzzled, thinking he was taking me somewhere new and special.
Sushi is how I roll.
What did the sushi say to the bee? Wasabi!
Librarytomes 