Fish on top of rice sounds simple enough. Yet, sushi is at once an art, a science, and often a deliciously delicate engineering feat.
I first tried sushi on the day I found out I was pregnant and the day before learning that pregnant women should avoid raw fish. I lived to tell the tale, to, in fact, relish the food, and, because I don’t like to eat alone, I want you to, too. Pay attention to the protocols and practice a bit, and enjoy a sushi meal like you were born to it.
Sushi began as a marriage of convenience dating back to the 7th century when seamen packed freshly caught fish with rice. The subsequent fermentation pickled the fish, and made the rice surprisingly tasty, in sort of a “chocolate-meets-peanut-butter” moment. As time progressed, Japanese vendors in outdoor stalls sold the morsel-sized rice servings (sushi actually translates to the vinegared rice) with raw fish as a fast-food precursor. The fresh-is-best concept is the mainstay of a thousand-year-old tradition that requires years of study and a precise knife hand to become an itamae or sushi chef. The itamae is only limited by what the tide brings in as he (in most cases) creates a balance of precisely seasoned rice with slices of the freshest fish, exotic delicacies and even pure vegetarian varieties, to create an authentic sushi offering.
When you deal with time-honored traditions, protocol is important. This is never more the case than with sushi. Keep in sight the fact that sushi is a mind-body experience that includes the hands. Use the oshibori to wipe yours as you get ready to dine. Fingers are just fine if you select a nigiri sushi, which comes as a pad of rice, topped with slices of fish or other under the sea treats (this layer is called neta), with a spot of wasabi tucked in between. Here’s the thing on wasabi: It tastes like green horseradish. That’s because it usually is horseradish, tinted green. Real wasabi is ground from a rare plant that is also expensive and thus not frequently served. That said, it is the job of the itamae to balance the flavor of the rice, neta and wasabi. He’s trained to know how much. Adding more is in poor form. You may see others do it, but don’t add wasabi to your soy sauce and mix it together, unless you are eating sushi that doesn’t come with wasabi on it.
Soy sauce brings up another protocol point: Never dip your nigiri rice-side-down into the soy. Flip before you dip. Grasp the sushi near the top and make a slow somersault, skimming the neta over the soy sauce. (Practice at home with a mini candy bar, if you need to. Even Japanese people get lax on this, so you will impress the itamae.) The flip technique keeps your sushi solid and avoids the rice turning into a soy sauce sponge. Eat the whole thing neta-side on your tongue in one, or at most, two bites. The slices of pickled ginger root will cleanse your palate before moving to different nigiri or maki varieties.
Show off your chopsticks dexterity, if you like, with the maki rolls. They are a necessity if you select sashimi, the thin slices of raw fish, without the rice bed. But, if you’re sharing items, turn your sticks backwards to snag the sushi with the end that doesn’t go in your mouth. Also, pass the plate instead of using the chopsticks to move food between tasters. To do otherwise, conjures up (to Japanese minds) a tradition of passing a dead relative’s bones at a funeral. You also don’t rest chopsticks poking up in your side dish of rice. It evokes the imagery of incense sticks used in Japanese funeral rites. Sushi is, after all, a celebration of the color and vibrancy of life. Which is why you would never ask the itamae if the sushi is fresh. It would be like asking if he washed his hands. If you have to wonder, it’s best to find another sushi bar.
Like most things in life, sushi is all about respect. Respect the food. Respect the traditions. It’s a show of respect to ask the itamae for his recommendations (and a good way to get out of a jam). He might pull out a little something special for you. Tamago is an intricate omelet delicacy that allows him to show off his skills. There is igano (roasted grasshoppers) or if you like your food to move, try odori, live baby langoustines dancing on top of your rice. If you encounter something not to your taste, just swallow and smile your way through. Leaving unfinished food is an insult. Just try something else that is more in line with your preferences. The itamae at the sushi bar (or your server if you are seated at a table) will happily guide you. If you want to make a real impression, send the itamae a beer or sake. The right toast is kampai! for “empty your cup!” Lastly, if you are dining at the sushi bar, tip the itamae separately from any other servers and leave with a heart-felt “domo arigato,” or thank you very much.
(Vanessa Scott James is a freelance writer living in Chicago, Illinois)