Sushi
by Nita Smart

The United States was founded by immigrants and maintains a wealth of growing ethnic diversity of people from all over the world. Each culture has distinctive foods and flavors they are proud to call their own. Despite the fact United States citizens live within this cultural melting pot, many of us stay within our own dietary comfort zones and are uneasy to take a chance on a new cuisine. This is unfortunate, for experiencing different cultural dining experiences not only provides a great meal, but also a way to connect with different cultures. Taking this idea to heart, I set a personal goal of trying to appreciate and experience the traditional foods of other cultures.

I have shared my new-found enthusiasm with my daughter (who loves nothing more than to needle me with my own words). A sushi restaurant had opened five minutes from my home and my daughter wanted to experience this very unique cuisine. We soon found ourselves seated at the counter in this restaurant, a conveyer belt moving slowly in front of us, laden with beautifully prepared dishes of sushi. Quietly we made our choices taking plates right off of the belt, and watched as the sushi chefs worked on the other side of the counter producing a spectacular array of colorful creations with ease and organization.

As we examined our selections, two women obviously unfamiliar with sushi, came into the restaurant and stood near the door watching with disdain. The women were difficult to ignore. They exclaimed every few moments with comments such as "Do people really eat that?" They didn’t seem to care that the chefs could hear them. One even made a disparaging comment about Japanese people in general, and what raw fish-borne diseases they must be immune too. Finally one said, "Let's go get some real food," and they left. I marveled at the sushi chefs who, despite the interruption, calmly and quietly continued their work. Unfortunately I was now too angry to appreciate the cultural experience in front of me.

Back in my car I ranted to my daughter about how rude the two women had been. Making sushi is not merely a means of food preparation. Sushi is considered an art form in Japan, and our restaurant visit had provided an opportunity to view artists at their work.

Then and there, while standing on my own high moral ground, I told my daughter that I would endeavor to try the foods of other cultures, and that even if I didn’t care for them, I would show appreciation for the foods. I was impressed with my assertions, particularly after eating sushi, a food so different from anything in my regular diet. My darling daughter then pointed out that I had only had the house rolls. In other words, tuna salad (cooked canned tuna and mayonnaise) rolled in rice and wrapped not in seaweed, but in an egg based wrap. "That’s not true sushi." my daughter said, "Like California rolls, house rolls are a dish created to pacify squeamish Americans too afraid to try real Sushi." My daughter’s point well taken, the challenge had been thrown, and I stubbornly determined to answer it.

We returned to the same sushi restaurant the very next week. With great apprehension and a growing fear, I selected a dish of tuna rolls off of the conveyer belt, not the house rolls. Tuna is a standard staple of sushi restaurants and tuna rolls usually consist of mahi or yellowfin encircled in white rice and seaweed. The tuna is raw and the rolls are quite beautiful. I looked at my tuna rolls. My throat tightened. I am prone to anxiety, and I could feel my heart starting to pound and that familiar rush of noise in my ears as my sympathetic nervous system took over with its fight or flight response. What would happen if I put raw fish in my mouth? Would I be able to swallow? Grimly I held my seat. Taking deep breaths I poured soy sauce over the raw tuna and smeared wasabi over the top with a chopstick. I looked at the door. Maybe I could ask for the sushi to go? I would take the rolls home and try it later. What a good idea! Unfortunately my daughter caught my eye with a knowing smirk.

With no options remaining, and faced not only with my daughter’s smirk but also with my own resolutions for cultural appreciation, I grabbed a roll and put it in my mouth and chewed. Whatever flavor the tuna had, it seemed very subtle, for the salty soy sauce followed by the familiar potent effects of the wasabi were all I could taste. The texture of the fish surprised me. Thankfully it was not chewy or bloody tasting (like rare beef), it was extraordinarily soft and barely perceptible, almost delicate. I swallowed, I smiled, I felt so proud!

On the conveyer belt passed the familiar house rolls and inari. I took both plates. Pushing the remaining tuna rolls toward my daughter, I spent the rest of my meal within my comfort zone of cooked fish, rice and vegetables. I confess I rarely eat any type of meat, and when I do I prefer it overcooked to burned. It impressed me to realize that the Japanese understand that raw fish is outside the average U.S. citizen’s comfort zone, and that they have developed beautiful dishes like house rolls and California rolls to ease our participation in their sushi tradition. Such cultural grace allows me to be the appreciative recipient of an evolving traditional and creative cuisine. As I left the restaurant, I realized the opportunity to try new foods had truly helped me to experience and appreciate an unfamiliar culture.

Nominated by Trista Cornelius, English Department