The best round of Taboo ever, which happened circa last St. Patrick’s Day:
Friend One, drawing a card: “Ok, this is….this is a thing that Julie loves!”
Friend Two: “Sushi!”
Friend Three: “Babies!”
Friend Two: “Chocolate! Dancing! Babies eating sushi!”
And then they could not think of more things. Which is pretty accurate, I guess.
Look, I’m not going to act like I ate sashimi as a kid. My kids will, because if I’m going to give up the thing I love best for their appropriate brain development, they will be joining me in making up for lost time once they can sit on their own. In the meantime…
(although, is it really the meantime if your doctor recently told you to start taking a prenatal vitamin? Isn’t that sort of like announcing to the universe that The Meantime is a swiftly closing window? Maybe she didn’t mean to induce this sort of existential panic and only wanted me to have great hair and nails?)
…I am dedicating myself to consuming as many pieces of nigiri as one can without Jeremy Piven-ing. (And without believing for a second that he actually gave himself mercury poisoning, because do you know how much fish you’d need to accomplish that? Like, all of it.) In furtherance of that quest, M and I finally visited Sugarfish.
By way of background, let me say that M was a slow starter when it came to sushi. His upbringing was more meat-and-potatoes than mine, and so his progression went: teriyaki –> tentative caterpillar roll –> cooked shrimp on rice. When he landed on salmon sashimi, he was a true convert, and I had a partner who could (sort of) match my giddiness (he can’t squeal in my register). On Saturday night, we cheers-ed our first bites of albacore and then looked at each other, his face reflecting my disbelief: perfect.
Warm, sticky rice and incredibly fresh fish. Hand rolls with tacky seaweed and crab that tumbled out the side. Tangy ponzu that made you respect the chef’s prohibition on asking for soy sauce. A husband moaning, “I am ruined, I am ruined.”
He wasn’t kidding, really. I was four bites in before begging to go back for my birthday. But that makes it sound so Special Occasion, and it’s really not. Not a frequent thing, either–the fixed price menu, which almost everyone orders, is $30/person–but certainly doable a few times before November.
By the way, everyone’s been spreading this rumor that the gift for second anniversaries is cotton…which is so weird, because I heard recently that it was actually chopsticks. And appropriate food to go with them. Weird, right? But one must bow to custom.