Eating My Way Around the World

Although trying local cuisine is one of my favorite aspects of traveling, while visiting Japan I was skeptical about the amount of raw fish consumed by the natives. Even so, my companion insisted on dinner at a type of restaurant that she claimed was a Japanese institution. Upon entering the restaurant, we sat down at the bar which looked very similar to a miniature version of an airport baggage claim. Three smiling chefs stood in the middle, encompassed by the conveyer belt contraption, working steadily to chop, roll, and prepare. All of a sudden, little plates started appearing and making their way around the restaurant. The plates came in multiple colors and displayed intricate masterpieces comprised of rice, fish, and a variety of vegetables, most of which I could not name.

After waiting a few minutes, hoping a cheeseburger would magically appear, I spotted a plate of edamame! After downing a few delicious soy beans, a sentiment that I had never previously experienced, I realized that I needed to give sushi another shot. It really wasn’t fair to judge an entire cuisine on a bad experience at an American food court. Shortly after this hunger induced epiphany, a small red piece of meat on a rather large block of rice made its way around the conveyor belt. As a high rice to fish ratio was probably a good place to start, I selected the dish and prepared myself for the endeavor. In a veiled attempt to procrastinate I grabbed the soy sauce and doused my plate.

At first, there was on overwhelming yet delicious wave of salt. Sadly, this sensation was only temporary until my taste buds registered the piece of raw fish and my brain noted the utter chewiness of the monstrosity in my mouth. I grabbed my napkin and released the delicacy in as stealth a manner as possible. I tried two other dishes, unsuccessfully, hoping that a different combination might do the trick. Just as I was pulling out my phone to find the nearest udon shop, a delectable smell wafted across my nose. As I looked up three plates with fried globs of meat were headed my way. As the first dish crossed my path my brain and my eyes connected and I registered a piece of fried chicken! I looked up to see one of the chefs smiling and signaling “ok” while the others giggled. My stomach rejoiced and I resigned myself to being a silly American for the evening. Japan had a wide variety of dishes that I tried and enjoyed but I am afraid that a love of raw fish still evades me.