If faced with the cruel conundrum of only eating one thing for the rest of my life I think I’d choose sushi. It’s quite a clever choice if you think about it because there are so many different types, in all shapes, sizes, and flavours. Of course traditionally each of these variations has its own name- nigiri, temaki, sashimi, but outside of Japan most would consider ‘sushi’ to be an acceptable catch all. Well that may be a push but it’s what I’d argue anyway to the person who made me choose.
You’re sitting there thinking I’d get sick of it pretty quickly but honestly, it would take a while. There was a time when I almost did eat sushi everyday; during my law school years I was a Midland Sushi devotee but in a moment of fickleness, shafted them for Sushi Bi and their crispy chicken roll topped with Japanese mayonnaise. Even when I moved to a different office in Wellington’s CBD Siberia of Molesworth Street I made the regular trek to Woodward Street for my beloved sushi lunch. Those were the days indeed. I hadn’t realised how lucky I had it until I got to London and was faced with the prepacked, cold and sweaty sushi of Wasabi and Itsu. It’s edible but not as enjoyable to eat as those individually selected pieces which were only rolled minutes before being placed in the cabinet.