When I Eat Sushi

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The slices of Yellow Fin Tuna, Mackerel, Salmon and Roe are served up at my favorite table along with a bottle of Biwa No Choju as it has not arrived sooner as imagined. Rows of piano tuning pin sized scales and slabs that sit erect next to the pickled ginger and wasabi sitting patiently on the trays outer corner sharpening its great breath.

I gaze closely to unravel the briny map that tells 0f the deep dark ocean recently carrying these narezushi to my dish. There’s an echo calling out about the Sushi slices that once rippled through the Southeast Asian currents about a place the fish began, a place I could never find on my own, nor were ever meant to.

Even the plum and the tiny eggplant are no relief. Perplexed and inflamed I continue hoisting piece after piece off my ceramic plate as the fish now seems as diminutive than possible.

My mouth opens for the last piece, exposing the truth it so desperately wanted to keep hidden from you,
and you,
and you,
and you.

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About glenn van nostrand

Spent some years making my way around the cities and states, working, learning about new food ideas and planting and eating my share. The most pressing lesson I came away with, now that I am less nomadic, is that we all need to reject the corporate take over of our food, both dining out and shopping to bring home. No matter what size your living area, you can always grow something and enjoy the nurturing experiences of the growth to the nutritional value it gives from the table.. View all posts by glenn van nostrand

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