Sugar and Spice and All Those Lies by Evy Journey

Author:Evy Journey [Journey, Evy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Evy Journey
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

15

Will stops in front of the modest-looking restaurant Leon has chosen on this Tuesday, the fourth week of our lunches. Leon waits outside the door, holding the doorknob. I’m partway in, surveying the noisy crowd, most of whom are students at the nearby university.

Will says, “If you don’t mind, I’ll go for a burrito. There’s a Mexican place down the street. I don’t like fish. Never had raw fish, and never will.”

Leon grins, amused. “You sure? You don’t know what you’re missing. You can order tempura or teriyaki. There’s soy sauce in the teriyaki.”

Will shakes his head. “I think I’ll pass.”

Leon and I join a small line ordering at the counter. He says, “This place is usually packed at noon. The crowd is thinning out so we’ll have a quieter lunch.”

“You’ve been here before.”

“A few times. For a small mom-and-pop place, the sushi here is quite good. People know it and they come. I hope you like sushi.”

“I’ve only had it twice. I never ate at restaurants when I was growing up. Unless you think McDonald’s and Wendy’s count as restaurants. That’s all my family could afford, and not often. I had sushi at a popular Japanese restaurant with an old boyfriend.”

“Was he a sushi eater?”

“No. He ordered chicken teriyaki. I had sushi.”

“Then, I suggest you try their rolls. You’ll like them. You can graduate to nigiri later. That’s a slice of raw fish on top of rice.”

“I’m not squeamish about raw fish. We use a lot of it at Du Cœur, as you know. And I’ll take sashimi over beef carpaccio or steak tartare anytime. What would you suggest in nigiri?”

“Would you trust me to order for us?”

I nod since Leon obviously knows more about sushi than I do.

Fifteen minutes later, a young Asian waiter places a large platter with an assortment of sushi on the table. With his chopsticks, Leon picks up a piece from a row of rolled sushi topped with tiny orange fish eggs. He reaches across the table to offer it to me.

Surprised by his gesture—which seems so intimate to me—I hesitate at first. He’s watching me; smiling, waiting, expectant. The expression on his face is one I’ve seen on my youngest brother when he offered Mom a frog in a jar he caught from our garden.

I open my mouth for the piece of sushi. It’s a mouthful. I bite into briny eggs which burst in my mouth, sinking into the tangy, salty-sweet blend of soft rice, seaweed, cucumber, raw fish, wasabi, and mayonnaise. Leon is watching my reaction.

“Great stuff, wonderful combination,” I say.

He smiles, gives me a thumbs up, and picks up a piece for himself.

Halfway through our plate of sushi, I say, “Next time, let’s go to a place that serves dim sum.”

“Yeah let’s. I’ve never been to one. I do have a pretty good idea what it is. It’s like a Chinese version of small plates.”

“Better than that. You get so many more choices.”

“Do you know a good place?”

“There’s a good one by the bay in Emeryville.

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