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Sushi Blues

March 23, 2009

I am thinking that I will possibly never be a Cool Sushi Eater.


Sushi is the “in” thing right now, but I just can’t seem to force myself to like it. I’ve had it several times, from several different places, but I never quite seem to get past the whole raw fish issue and that lingering raw fish scent—even when it’s cooked.


Duane and I went out Friday night with our friends Jason and Melissa to a great Chinese restaurant—arguably the best one in town, King’s Island. Since everyone else was having sushi, I thought I’d do the same. Mistake, as it turned out.


My first bite was of something mushy and (although supposed to be cooked) with a strong fishy odor. Yech. I fared little better with my second choice, although there were some stalks of cucumber and zucchini and carrots that I could nibble on. Jason, after taste-testing, said I somehow managed to pick the two worst sushi dishes on the menu. Yay, me.


I tried to eat it, I really did. I tried picturing myself on Survivor or Fear Factor, about to win a cool luxury or pile of cash if I could just swallow that foulness, but I think the fact that I wasn’t going to end up with a cool luxury or pile of cash made it impossible. All I was going to end up with was a queasy stomach and wasted calories, and I couldn’t convince my imagination otherwise.


So I sat and looked at my plate, and everyone else’s plates while we were there, and when we left, made a bee-line straight for the Dairy Queen across the street, where I ordered a hot dog with chili, cheese, and ketchup and a cookie dough blizzard. Yes, I know it’s uncool, but I prefer chili cheese dogs and Blizzards to sushi.


I think I’m probably going to give up on sushi for a while. I have made a valiant attempt, I feel, going out of my way to try to acquire the taste (because I do want to be a Cool Sushi Eater), but it’s just not happening for me. Despite my best efforts, I’m just a meatloaf and mashed potatoes kind of girl. Sushi’s just too sophisticated for my plebeian palate.

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