Thursday Sushi Thaw

The variety of sushi bulleted on the average menu rarely sums up the number of possibilities a chef can potentially churn out without a moments notice. If it was once alive, if it lived in an indiscriminate body of water, and if you can't die from eating it (though there are exceptions), it will likely be christened on a pillow of rice and consumed without a second thought by a considerable portion of the Japanese populace.

But not every society is so willing to resist its aversion to the more exotic types of raw seafood, and it is the purpose of this and future posts on what is to be known as "Thursday Sushi Thaw" to deice any apprehension by providing some basic information on the kinds of sushi that usually require a double-take from most Americans.

Today's suspect is one that many Americans would likely become enamored with were it not for its species of origin: the fresh water eel (seen above). Unagi, as it's nimbly listed on most western menus, plays on the taste buds through a collection of unique styles that more "fishy" selections like tuna or salmon simply can't achieve.

Its prime mode of operation lies in its protein-heavy savoriness. If tuna is the "chicken" of the sea, unagi is the aquatic "filet mignon". The taste can be described as a very light, delicate beef which manages to eschew any hint of the usual seafood notes. Sushi is normally prepared without ornamentation but the backbone of any unagi dish, and especially unagi sushi, is the symphonic inclusion of a plucky taro sauce glaze that adds a pinch of sweet and salty to your seafood steak. When these elements combine with vinegared rice, the product becomes a sushiphobe's best coping mechanism and a sushiphiles choice de jour.

You may still not be convinced enough to order $20 worth of eel, but you'll likely consider it after a taste.

Tasting Complexity Through Simplicity

One of the most salient schools of thought regarding what can be called the 'art of eating' is an attention to complimenting the natural flavors of a food. Instead of bogging down the taste in spices and fluff, many gastrophiles prefer their food prepared naked, simple, and without pretense; but at the same time deep and flavorful. Sushi is probably the most apposite dish in regard to satiating this preference as its success relies on the qualitative essence of only two primary ingredients: rice and fish. The best sushi, in this way, can be understood as simple sushi.

The above picture illustrates that principle in a few ways. Firstly, the stark relationship between sky and earth is visually reminiscent to that of the tiering of fish and rice found in nigiri sushi. On a deeper level, the picture as a whole plays with the aesthetic pleasure of simplicity, the evocation of a complex essence or identity from what, in this case, is only gently sloping hill topped  with a singular tree. Trading the sensational realm of sight for that of taste, an appreciation for sushi works much to the same end.

Just as there are no bells or whistles, flashing lights or labyrinthine cityscapes in the above photo, neither is the essence of sushi surrounded by a din. That's not to say it can't be dressed up but rather that, to those who value simplicity, unpacking the basics of its taste and aesthetics is already a task in and of itself. Basically, farming a level of complexity from what appears to be barren simplicity achieves much more than cherry-picking the details out of a taste or image overborne with contrivances.

About This Blog

I've always been fond of Japanese cuisine or, at the very least, what passes as Japanese cuisine in the Michiana region of Indiana. When I began learning the Japanese language some time ago, I gained a greater appreciation for the reverential position that this marriage of rice and fish has in Japanese soceity. An ocean away, everyone knows of what might be called the "big three" of Michiana sushi restaurants and bars, prime among them: Toyo Grill. Michiana Sushi Crawler is in some way an outlet for those who would like to know where and why (and maybe if) they should consider looking outside of the warm embrance of those more familar restaurants. There surely aren't many places to get "good" sushi around South Bend, but some do exist.

 In another understanding, this blog is a kind of distillation of my opinions on our local sushi. I'm by no means an expert but I can, at the very least, describe the pros and cons of good and bad fish. More than just the quality of the food itself, I'll be talking about multiple aspects of the restaurants themselves, from service, to ambience, to location, and all the other tidbits that factor in making a dining experience.