Sushi

Sushi is one of the few foods I think I could eat every day. I know people who feel the same way, and others who hate the very idea of eating anything that might contain raw fish, seaweed, or *gasp* (one of my favorites) eel. It's an acquired taste, I'll give you that. But once you have it, the lust for it haunts you. I would say that sushi is equally about both the taste and the actual experience of eating. Texture. Communal eating. Accompaniments. Ritual.

I pretty much abide by the 50 mile rule when it comes to seafood, so I haven't had any aside from the handful of frozen salmon fillets bought in desperation at the Trader Joes in Pittsburgh. However, I have to say that while in Boston I totally got my fill (and thus probably propelled my mercury level to the danger-zone in a matter of days) and had the best salmon of my life at Henrietta's Table (my favorite restaurant of all time, and worth the price, trust me).

But, back to the sushi. "Sushi" actually means "vinegared rice," not raw fish, so those of you in the know understand that there are all kinds of vegetarian and/or other variations. I bought Aaron all of the equipment to make sushi at home for one of the birthdays past, so we decided to dig it out and spend a Saturday evening of rolling cucumber rolls. If I had my wish, I would have inside-out salmon avocado rolls and tuna anything. Mmm. But these were great, and so much fun. And not easy. A sushi party would be a fun idea.