Ann
Ipock
Humorist,
author, speaker
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Georgetown
Times
Sushi in the
South ... not your usual dish
By Ann Ipock October
05, 2005
I realize the subject of sushi is old news — along with tape decks
and hair perms — and yet, I’ve just become a fan. When I first
tried sushi eight or more years ago I didn’t see what the big deal
was. At that time, a friend who frequently stopped at a certain Japanese
steakhouse took me along. I wasn’t too excited, frankly: a little
fish, a little seaweed, a little rice. But you know what the best part
was to me, then and now? The condiments. The pickled ginger and wasabi.
(I guess these would be considered condiments?)
Sushi does have some redeemable qualities: You can’t argue about
the health benefits — the high-nutrition and low-calorie appeal.
That’s probably why we seldom see fat Asian sushi chefs. They’re
usually lean, trim and though I don’t know why — blessed with
lots of dark, thick hair. Hey! Maybe some of our “healthy”
Southern friends need to go on a sushi diet — no names, please.
Bess, a dear friend, has started a sushi girls’ dining experience
and we meet every other Tuesday for wine, sushi and stimulating conversation.
On my first gathering, I proved you can’t take the country out of
the girl.
For starters we were served some crackle bread with dip; as well as a
bowl of edamame — which tastes similar to boiled peanuts. I’ve
read about these green, succulent soy beans; but I’m a Southern
girl, after all. Put a bowl of beans in front of me and I assume they’re
ready for consumption.
Plus, they look similar to sugar snap peas and snow pea pods which are
eaten whole. I picked up a “bean” — the entire outer
pod, that is — and plopped it into my mouth. Ick!
It turned out to be a tough, fibrous, stringy mess, which yes, needed
to be shelled first.
Desperate to spit it out, I had no choice but to cough into my white cloth
napkin. The waiter caught sight of this; and in horror, dashed to our
table to see if everything was alright.
“Well, no,” I garbled, motioning for a new napkin. He probably
imagined this redneck mama would leave no tip. Ha! I fooled him. I may
be uninformed, but I do tip well.
I have one question about sushi: How do you eat it with chopsticks? I
mean, how in the world are you supposed to grasp that 1-1/2 inch roll
of sushi with those awkward hard-to-handle chopsticks that only open 1
inch?
You can’t cut the roll in half with a knife because a) the restaurant
doesn’t give you one; and b) even if they did, you CANNOT cut through
that shiny, black, elastic-like seaweed coating. Why does life have to
be complicated?
On a recent trip out of town I bought some sushi-to-go simply for the
practice of using chopsticks.
Sitting there alone, I put a rubber band around the sticks like they do
for kids in restaurants. It was no use: The sticks went flying and the
sushi went rolling!
One last note: What’s up with that green seaweed salad? It does
not seem like an edible form of food. It’s one thing to be swirling
around in the ocean, surrounded by jelly fish, man o’ war and other
flotilla. But as open-minded as I am and as adventurous as I can be, I
can’t seem to distinguish the eerie TASTE.
It’s not quite salty, but it is slimy. It’s rubbery —
and it’s chewy. Oh heck, it’s just plain gross!
Well, folks, we’ve made some real inroads here in the South when
it comes to sushi. This was proven to me recently when several of us attended
a dinner party and everyone was asked to bring their favorite dish (homemade
or store-bought). My best friend Carolyn didn’t bring fried chicken,
deviled eggs or potato salad — mainstays in the Deep South. Honey
— she brought sushi! For real.
Well, the sushi girls are meeting again next week. I’ll try to remember
to pop the edamame, get a grip on the chop sticks and skip the seaweed
salad. Oh yeah, and most important — to have a good time!