February’s new things just kind of happened.
Even after my blog post, the new things just kept coming: including an invitation to 4th Street Live.
Confession time: at first, I was too tired to write about my latest adventure. Then I was too lazy…then laziness morphed into a kind of forgetful remembrance: I remembered going out to the clubs and I remembered thinking up a blog post, but I forgot that the words had never actually left my head. Then I forgot when it happened.
So throughout the entire month of March, I have labored under the illusion that my new thing was out of the way and written up. How exactly I remembered that 4th Street was in February, I honestly do not know…just one of those things that comes to you in the middle of the night, I guess.
So here it is, the last half of the last week in March and I didn’t have a clue what I was going to do.
Cue the Japanese restaurant right by work and the realization that I’ve never had sushi.
Actually, never having eaten sushi was kind of deliberate; with a mother like mine, you have no choice but to be aware of mercury poisoning in the ocean. Not to mention, why on earth would I ever pay more money for uncooked food? Seems a bit skewed to me…but with time in such short supply, what’s a girl to do? So I swallowed my fear of mercury poisoning (not literally, I hope) and marched myself into the sushi place.
Tip number one when ordering something you never thought you would: make friends with your waiter! I had no idea there were so many ways to prepare uncooked meat–so I just asked my waiter to pick something for me. She was very nice, and told me to order something called a Derby roll. “Very popular,” she said.
Its popularity must be based on something other than appearance, because my first thought on seeing a Derby roll was: “Dear God, I hope that’s not for me!” It looked, for all the world, like two tail fins stuck on either side of pastry coated in brown sugar. Also, it was huge; maybe 8-10 inches long.
So there I was, facing down a giant sized portion of something I was not really inclined to do anything but look at…and absolutely no idea how to eat it. My informative waiter had already gone and so were the not-so-helpful menus. To my right, the people had already finished and to my left, they were still ordering: no help to be found there. An experimental prod with a fork revealed the Derby roll to be pre-sliced into six pieces, each one an uncomfortably large mouthful. By slicing each piece in half, I was able to consume the sushi in twelve bits.
Believe me, I counted.
Objectively, I understand why my waiter recommended the Derby roll: the marriage of crunchy sugar and smooth meat made for a fascinating taste…if you are a connoisseur. Personally, I couldn’t get past the slimy quality under the sugar.
I downed three enormous glasses of lemonade with this meal; the first to keep me from bolting as soon as I ordered, the second to get the stuff down and the third to keep it down. I also spent the majority of the ride home convinced the raw fish was going to slide back out.
I’m still not convinced it is getting digested in the usual manner.
I will say this: if it were not for The List, I doubt I would ever have eaten sushi. Thanks to The List, I doubt I ever will again. Yuck!