|
by Manos Angelakis
Eating raw fish for the first time requires nerve, faith in the skill of the sushi chef and a considerable desire for adventure.
The word sushi actually refers to seasoned, vinegared rice. Raw fish is sashimi until it  tops a ball of rice to become nigiri-sushi. It becomes maki-sushi when it is rolled within rice and a seaweed wrapper or becomes chirashi when it’s put on top of a bowl of rice.
I was introduced to sushi by an older woman, over forty years ago, who traveled around the world living off the residuals of four hit songs she co-wrote in the 50s. I first met her on the Greek island of Hydra, where she was staying for the summer and then, later the next year when I came to New York City, we bumped into each other in Chinatown. She was one of the few persons who enjoyed raw fish; most people in the US at the time did not eat fish, let alone raw fish. She was married to a gentleman that never left The Village, and made his money by writing poetry literally by the inch; each poem was written on a roll 2 inches wide (each line one or two words) and 16 to 18 inches long! But I digress.
My best sushi experience has been in the Ginza, just around the corner from the Imperial Hotel where I usually stay, where our host went into a sushi bar he frequented and told the chef “Omakase” which I think means “feed us” (see Sushi Zen, Omakase in New York story in Restaurant section). I found out that if I can pronounce the names of the fish I want in Japanese, I get better service than just pointing or trying to communicate with the chef in English. So, tako, hamachi, unagi, saba, toro etc. have become part of my everyday language. The freshest sushi I had was in Hawaii, a very popular tourist destination with the Japanese in the late 80s. Most hotels had sushi bars so it was easy to find a place where occidentals were a distinct minority -- a sure indication the sushi was fresh and the chefs behind the bar knew what they were doing.
Sushi is normally expensive because the fish has to be very fresh, very clean and never frozen. An extremely sharp knife is essential in preparing sushi. One-sided yanagi blades, sharpened daily with a whetstone, are the usual implement of the sushi chef. I bought one in Kyoto and it has a place of honor in my kitchen right next to the Sabattier high-carbon knives and the Henkels cleaver.
Aspiring sushi chefs spend years learning how to select, season and cook rice properly. To work with the cooked rice, the secret is keeping everything -- knife, board and especially hands -- wet, as well as keeping the rice-cooker covered with a wet towel. It takes a lot of practice with the rolling mat to get maki-sushi properly formed. A piece of plastic wrap covering the mat helps in stopping the seaweed or rice from sticking to the bamboo.
Fugu, poisonous blowfish, is a delicacy much in demand in Japan. There are few sushi chefs that prepare this dangerous repast. They have to be licensed and undertake years of training in learning how to prepare the fish so that they not kill the patrons demanding a plate of this exotic edible.
I’ve never developed a taste for saki, the almost obligatory accompaniment of sushi. I stick to beer or plum wine, though the cognoscenti will usually try to entice me with offerings of exotic varieties on the saki theme. Lately, I have been trying Portuguese Vinho Verde, to go with my sushi in BYO sushi restaurants in the US. This fresh, light, very slightly carbonated wine seems to match well with raw fish or Japanese cuisine in general.
|
