The Zen of Fish

I just finishedThe Zen of Fish: The story of sushi, from samurai to supermarket by Trevor Corson. Corson spent several years in Japan and apparently speaks fluent Japanese. He probably doesn't have to review Japanese for Busy People II in the morning with his coffee. According to his website he is also the only Sushi Concierge in the United States. Huh? But it appears that the guy is credentialed enough to write a book on sushi.
In the Zen of Fish, Corson follows the thirtieth class of the California Sushi Academy (CSA). There is some drama, will the flaky girl Kate--only one of two--pull her act together enough to become a sushi chef? The CEO of CSA, Toshi Sugihara, is about to lose his second restaurant, Hama Hermosa. And he is still recovering from a stroke. The mysterious Australian sushi-prodigy instructor Zoran has to return unexpectedly to Australia. Will the students be able to graduate without him? Will the CSA be able to continue without the restaurant? Will Toshi be well enough to continue? Their fates hang in the balance.
When I started the book, I was reminded of Fast Food Nation by Eric Schlosser. Not a favorable reminder to be sure. I put Fast Food Nation down after about 50 pages because it was written for a 10 year old with sentence length averaging about 5 words. I groaned internally and wondered if I would give up readingThe Zen of Fish for the same reason. Here is an example: "Kate had never been an adventurous eater. She grew up on chicken casseroles. Her family rarely ate fish; when they did, it was deep fried. They didn't each much rice, either. Kate's family ate potatoes." (pg. 10) Groan. Turn the page. More of the same. I feel my brain s-l-o-w-i-n-g d-o-w-n.
I don't know when I decided that the short sentences were OK, but I would guess it was about when descriptions of complex chemical reactions in different types of meat made an introduction. In fact by 2/3 of the way through I could even call myself grateful for the terse sentences.
The book is compelling, I learned quite a bit about sushi, its history, and its introduction in the United States. Los Angeles, I already knew played a huge role.But when there was also a connection in the book with Stillwater, Oklahoma (home of my alma mater Oklahoma State University)I was sold. Stillwater was mentioned as a far flung place in the heartland that had sushi chef positions. "True Pioneers. To open sushi in Stillwater, Oklahoma?! Wow." (pg. 132). Now when I go back in May, I will have to just see who has opened a sushi shop and where. I wonder if Eskimo Joe wunderkind Stan Clark has anything to do with it? Maguro Joes, maybe?
One thing I did learn is that I eat my sushi wrong, which kind of surprises me as I learned to eat it in Japan. I watched like a hawk that first day in Japan when I was introduced to the principal of the school over a sushi lunch in his office. I picked up the sushi with my chopsticks, dipped it into soy sauce-rice side down-and pushed the entire piece into my mouth. Suddenly,I thought I was going to die of suffocation right then and there because the rice was expanding in my mouth and I could breathe through my nose due to a severe head cold. Visions of embarrassing myself by passing out on my first day in Japan with my first meal in Japan in front of my boss danced through my head. Before I keeled over, I was able to swallow. I survived to learn that none of us were supposed to have dipped the sushi rice side down into the soy sauce. It is also preferable to eat sushi with one's hands.
Mind you I have only been in one real sushi restaurant. I taught a series of English lessons for the city officials in Hamada, Shimane, Western Japan. When the class was over they wanted to treat me to one of the special sushi places in town. Hamada is a fishing village with a fairly important fish market, so a real sushi shop would be just that. I vaguely remember that we might have used our hands and we might have dunked the sushi fish side down. I think this is possible because what I do remember most vividly was the very long pieces of fish and the very small amount of rice. I found it very difficult to eat the entire piece in one bite--memories of my first sushi experience still haunt me to this day. I am sure a sushi connoisseur such as Mr. Corson would have found this experience top notch. Me? I decided that I really didn't like the real deal so much. I guess I am just too much of a peasant or maybe just an average American with American sensibilities.
Give The Zen of Fish a read if you like sushi or you want to try sushi. It will give you a better appreciation for what goes into making raw food taste delicious. I am interested in going to Aomori Sushi down the street and trying sushi in a different light. Maybe there is hope for this fine example of peasant stock, yet.