Monday, May 14, 2007
Sushi Faye Baker
This was me about an hour ago.
No, I wasn't crying about the state of the world, nor was I whimpering because some jackhole cut me off on the freeway. This, friends, is my wasabi face.
Though emulating a former televangelist's heavily Maybellined wife, I was quite proud and happy when I self portraited [myself?]. I decided to dive headlong into my sushi-making debut this afternoon. I already had the nori from a previous shopping trip. The sushi rice was ready and waiting to be used - and has been for the better part of 4 months. I had some veggies that were sushi appropriate and all I needed was the fish. Hello Marcello! Our West Palm fish market closed abruptly, so I fell back to the Lantana fish monger, Marcello. Hit or miss with the charm, I got him on a good day - though he relished telling me that he would not sell me anything that wasn't suitable for sushi... "No Mahi-Mahi. I won'ta sella you da Mahi-Mahi. Itsa too lean." All the while he was yelling intermittently at his co-worker (or maybe just some random guy behind the counter?) in rapid-fire Italian. I couldn't tell if he was berating him, or recounting a pleasant day at the beach.
In any case, this is what I produced in my non-Japanese kitchen, and it wasn't half bad. Though I might have been a little too liberal with the wasabi.