Blood, Guts, and Sushi

I was 12 years old, with a bucket of skin and guts quickly filling up next to me. I had been left alone in a garage with a shaky wooden table, 20 plus victims to dispatch and disembowel, and the company of an old coon dog who occasionally felt the need to grab one of the near dead bodies flailing around on the floor and toss it around like a chew toy. My father had given me a quick lessen on inserting an ice pick into the skull of the victim while at the same time sliding the knife just under the skin and quickly dispatching it in a way that did not waste any of the meat. He then flipped the body over and removed the skin from the other side. They were not really dead yet, at least I didn’t believe so. Dad said the gasping for air was only a reflex action and he assured me they could no longer feel pain. After my lesson was over he took his beer and retired back to the couch and watched whatever sports event was being televised that day. I took to the job at hand, not wanting to let pops down, I started with the biggest ones first. We kept all of the living ones attached to one another with a small chord that had a sharp metal end which was shoved through the captives’ neck and out the mouth. The chord was then tied off to the table leg. I remember that I was several hours into the killing when I was overcome by sudden and stomach churning nausea. I can’t tell you if it was from all the blood and guts on my hands & clothes finally getting to me. Maybe it was the sight of all the bodies now accumulating, skinless & meatless, still flopping around on the floor. But I believe it stemmed mostly from the smell. It was so strong, so pungent, that if I close my eyes and think back to that day I can almost taste it as I did that hot sticky Ohio afternoon. And that smell, that taste has haunted me ever since. I finally had to call it quits with still a few victims left to be “processed”. I had to swallow my pride and go get dad and tell him that as much as I enjoyed stalking and catching all these fish, I just could not handle filleting any more of them. I should have been happy with my output that day. I know I single handedly cleaned at least 18 or 19 rather large bass. Accounting for some thirty pounds of fillets lying in the cooler next to me. And I am sure they tasted just wonderful once they were battered & fried. But I can’t say for sure. You see that day marked the start of nearly 28 years of not eating fish. I won’t lie, there may have been a few McDonald fillet of fish in that time, but for the most part if I even hinted a smell of fishiness to a meal, it did not get consumed by me. My mind would too quickly go back to that garage oh so many years ago, and the nausea would soon set in.

But like so many things these days, I decided to make a conscious effort to overcome this “phobia” if you will. I mentioned in a prior post the Salmon meal I cooked, and ate with my family. Granted the spices on the fillet and lime juice left no real hint of fish smell, so it was really pretty easy to consume. But last Saturday I decided to confront this problem head on. I invited my wife out to the highly recommended Samurai Blue Sushi restaurant in Ybor, Florida to try our first sampling of Sushi. The hostess that night chose to up the difficulty level of my challenge by seating us right at the sushi bar. Only about 6 inches of counter and 1/8” of glass was now separating me from countless chunks of dead fish, crab, and what I believe to be octopus leg in their. The smell wasn’t as bad as I feared, but it wasn’t avoidable either. A little Bud Light & Saki helped me to keep my resolve as we perused the menu. The Mrs. opted to settle for the “Love Roll” (insert your own joke here) while I went with a friends recommendation & ordered the “Spontaneous Combustion.” The service was excellent and the food arrived in short order. As soon as the plate hit the counter I grabbed my chop stick, only after casing the entire building for a fork of course, and dipped my first piece of sushi thru the sauces splashed on the plate and plopped that bad boy in my mouth. Silently I was praying my gag reflex didn’t kick in and cause me to spray the mouthful of fish along with the nights intake of beer and Saki all over my beautiful wife(who by the way looked ever so sexy in her little black skirt). But to my surprise not only was I not overcome by the urge to spew, my mouth was filled with a wonderful combination of Salmon, cream cheese, what I think was kelp, and some spicy sauce that brought all the flavors together. I was informed by the waitress that this was not “traditional sushi’ as it was baked, but for me it was exactly what I needed for my first venture into sushi eating. I tried a little of my wife’s Love Roll (again add your own joke) and although it also was good, I preferred my food much more.

Overall the entire sushi experience was wonderful, the conversation with The Mrs. was a pleasure, and the dining experience ended with me feeling as though I am finally free from that killing room from so many summers ago.