There are certain types of food that I really wish I liked because when people eat them they look like they’re having such an amazing time. Oysters fall into this category. People who eat oysters look like they’re really enjoying themselves, but I can’t quite get past the fact that they’re alive when you eat them. I have this horrible vision of them sliding down my throat screaming in silent oyster agony as they plunge to their doom. Possibly I’m over empathizing with my food but nonetheless, absent being very polite, oysters aren’t something that I willingly eat.
For years sushi was another thing that I wished I liked but that I had a hard time actually enjoying. Then I discovered the bastardized American version of sushi that involves vegetables and cooked shrimp and no raw fish. I reluctantly admit that the reason I have a hard time with sushi is because I’m squeamish about the raw fish. I feel bad about only liking the sanitized Western version of sushi, but not bad enough to eat raw fish. In fairness, I’m also squeamish about steak tartare and beef carpaccio. You cook that steak tartare and call it meatloaf and I’m a big fan, but raw it does nothing for me.
For my roommate’s birthday this year I gave her sushi accoutrements – a rolling mat, a cookbook, and serving plates. So for New Year’s this year we had a sushi making party. I provided rice and fillings and then left everyone to make their own meals. I also borrowed a deep fryer from friends who asked for and received one for their wedding, and we made tempura and fried wontons.
Monday Night Dinner 