With a fair amount of youngster shock, I remember one morning finding my mother stooped over a boiling pot of water on stove, poking and prodding what looked like a bubbling, frothing pillowcase.
“Soooo whaddya want me to bring?” I asked the host. “Hmmm how about stuffed mushrooms?” she said. “Uhhhh what?” was my response. At that I just sort of ya know…stared blankly at the world around me for a good ten minutes…accepting the fact that I had to freakin cook…stuffed freakin mushfreakin rooms.
There, gracing the top of the meat case at a most convenient eye level, was a darling display of kitchen accoutrement – attractively packaged, perfectly arranged. While the meat man did his rap tap-dance of wrapping up my guilty “heart attack on a grill” purchase, I was silently processing the seemingly innocent visuals of this gadget set.
Fast forward to the famous sushi conversation. It was a sunny day on the mountain, we were enjoying some nice powder runs and guzzling some crisp beer! When all of a sudden (beyond my control) the conversation turned to food. When this happens, I have a tendency to nod and smile politely while thinking about what it would be like for two fat people to have sex. I mean anything is better than discussing food. Next thing ya know, Annabelle proclaims that “eating sushi is, like, orgasmic dude”.
Before I hopped into my car I let out the hugest scream. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!” I tucked my nose safely inside my sweatshirt placed my sweaty palms firmly on my steering wheel, put the car into drive and away I went.
What made the situation worse was that the bodies that were once attached to these warm, stinky pig heads, were in the truck in front of me. Trying to pretend I was on a beach in Maui sipping a Pina Colada wasn’t cutting it. I literally felt like I was going to pass out.
In retrospect, the fact that it was in no way fresh probably explains why it took all of my willpower not to vomit at the table the minute it hit my mouth. I had never used saki for mouthwash before that moment. And I’m not sure what disturbed me the most – that it looked like an orange tongue neatly wrapped in nori paper, that it smelled like dirty socks, or that it had the texture, color and consistency of butterscotch pudding.