Ode to Sushi

Edit: I just would like to add, Happy Birthday to my Blog. <3

I don’t think I’ve blogged about my obsession of raw fish.

There you go.

I don’t think I’ll live without sushi. I’ve always been in love with this stuff, long before I ever studied abroad in Japan. In fact, I’m one of the three co-founders of “awkward sushi night,” which is when my friends and I invite other people who have never met each other to come and take part of this wonderful dish.

This event is spread by word of mouth. We don’t believe in Facebook events when it comes to exclusive pagan practices and sushi. (I don’t participate in the former, but I just don’t think that sort of thing should be Facebooked…I don’t know. I cant remember the last time I’ve been to a virgin sacrifice. {Ok really Just Kidding}.)

There are rules for awkward sushi night. 1) All of those who partake in the sushi during this even must be known by one of the three co-founders. Those who are invited do not necessarily need to know everyone else. 2) One cannot use a fork, chopsticks only. This is non-negotiable. A friend of mine did this once. He’s only alive because I wasn’t present to witness such a defiling act. 3)Trades are a must. If you do not trade, you probably will not be invited again.

I’m a very avid sushi connoisseur (if there is such a thing). I know my way around textures, tastes, ratio of soy sauce to fish and rice and, most importantly, the Japanese names of the fish. And I love taking pictures of these works of art. (As to whether or not my photographs do the dishes justice, you are not allowed to comment on.)

The pictures are all taken in restaurant that my friends and I have visited since we started college. Awkward Sushi night was born on the first Friday of our undergraduate careers. Alongside two of my best friends, we partook of this beautiful dinner. I still remember the rolls we ordered. Spider, Dragon, and Super Crunchy Shrimp. It was a pivotal time for us. A wonderful time. We had all dressed up (in subconscious preparation for our first Friday night as college girls) for dinner. Easy yet nice tops, open-toed shoes (there was none of this snow nonsense that is currently happening now), and clear fresh faces.

The first hour we merely walked around to look for a nice place to eat. The street that leads up to the University center is famous for a number of its bars, restaurants, and truly infusing the word “college night life” full of spices and meaning for all those who went to my school. We were walking around until my eyes settled on this whole-in-the-wall, petite sushi restaurant. As I read and wondered to myself the title of this restaurant (which for safety purposes I will not devoid on this blog), I had apparently slipped into a world of my own (which I’m very known to do when food is concerned).

Two things happened.

1) I lose sense of my surroundings.

2) I get truly hungry.

Hahahahaha. Unfortunately, I missed out on the best compliment of my life at that very moment. Because while I was wondering whether or not to bring my friends into this sushi place that I’ve not even googled yet (because it is always best to background check sushi restaurants! always!), a man–nay a college boy–had apparently paid me the compliment of simply telling me I’m beautiful, out of the blue.

And in my stupor over whether or not I wanted a roll or just a couple of nigiris, I had completely missed it. My silence and lack of acknowledgment of his existence was taken as a shy rejection, and the boy walked away.

All this was related to me after my friends had knocked the wind out of my already empty stomach. It was only while sipping green tea after we had made our orders did I realize that I might have just let slip possibly the best drama of my life. (Actually that’s not true, I had the best/worst drama of my life last semester. I don’t think having drama with some dude who tells me I’m beautiful and doesn’t follow up on it could have even compared to what happened last semester.)

This restaurant has gone through several owners. I can recall the different names its undergone–and how it became a game between my friends and I to try and call it with its most recent name when we plan our Friday nights for dining out. We don’t often dine out anywhere else. I don’t even remember eating out on a Friday night that didn’t involve sushi. We tried other restaurants of course, we wanted to know what other places could offer, but we always came back here. To this place.

This semester, it fell into the hands of a Japanese owner. (For some reason, Koreans own a lot of sushi places. I don’t understand. They need to stop that.) It has been the best it has ever been. The servings are bigger. The appetizers are complimentary–miso, salad and ginger dressing, and edamame–all free! And the artwork reached the level of pièce de résistance. (You know, in my limited knowledge of the French language, I don’t understand why they call it that. Because it always seems to me that anything that is called this is, quite plainly, irresistible. So French people, why isn’t it called pièce de IRrésistance?)