Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Soupy logic

I will not write about my yard anymore. I will not write about my yard anymore. I will not..... wait, just one more, little tiny thing: I'd like to say that I laid every single last one of my own bricks and pavers the last couple of days - and was totally happy to do so. Something about making squares and rectangles fit together in gentle, arcing curves is therapeutic -like playing with Legos for grown-ups, if Legos could smash your digits when you slam them together too hard. In a completely different vein, so to speak; Zack Braff will never, ever cease to remind me of an ex-boyfriend of mine, but with dark hair. No wonder Scott hates Scrubs so much - naturally, I love the show, more for the absurd, mean things that the characters do to each other than for Braffs' lovely blue eyes and quirky sense of humour.

Last night Scott wasn't feeling very well, so we cut out of our meeting early and headed to Shintori to get him the time-honored remedy for "not feeling well/the chills": Miso soup, steamed edamame and cloves (sounds strange, but it's really warming), rice and the Super Shintori roll, sans gobo - Gobo, by the way, are bitter little half-pickled carrots, in case you were curious. We've been coming to this little hideaway since June 5th, 2000 - the day after we got married. The prices are great, the service is good, you're encouraged to write on the paper lanterns over the tables, and they give you Hershey's Hugs and Kisses with the bill.

Oddly enough, all the while we've come here, I've sipped at the miso, (topped with crispy little bits of tempura) picked at the teriaki, and not. eaten. one. bite. of. sushi. Yes, I admit it: I hate sushi, sashimi, unagi, nigiri, seaweed salad - anything vaguely like Japanese food. My throat literally closes, my stomach turns over and says, "Uhhhh...I'll pass, thanks, mate", and my toes start tapping involuntarily in a 'let's get out of here fast' pattern. I like seafood, I like rice, and I like eating healthy, pretty food - but sushi and the like have been a bust since January of 2000.

You see, my ex, we'll call him X, loved sushi, Japanese culture, slightly Asian-looking women - I mean, come on, he seriously wanted to have a kid and name it (him, naturally) Ronin ...Ronin! Actually, the three of us (Scott, X and I) used to go get sushi and drinks with our other friends way back in the day. By 'in the day', I mean, 'before I came to my senses and realized I really loved Scott, my friend, the guy who had always been in my corner, and married him, thank heavens'. In the fantasyland that was his early twenties, X thought that despite our differences, we would eventually figure everything out and get married. Thereafter, I would stop wanting to travel all the time and become consumed with keeping up with the fashion trends, and learn to make sushi. Funny, no?

Somewhere down the line, I was somehow supposed to want to have a baby with someone who had pre-selected his sons' name on the basis of a bad Robert De Niro movie. Also, I was supposed to get away with gaining twenty pounds or less while carrying his baby. I'm no geneticist, but I'm pretty sure that the spawn of a large-framed, six foot two Finnish man (with cousins and uncles in the seven foot tall zone) and I would probably not have resulted in one of those cute little stick-on bellies. I sincerely wish him the best, and hope that sometime in the last seven years, he grew a clue, a sense of reality, and some compassion. Although I haven't missed him for one single instant since I dumped him (and walked out the door, leaving the poor guy a sobbing wreck)*, my loathing for Japanese food has continued unchecked.
*Probably the single most brutal thing I've done to...anyone. Mean, but not undeserved.

None of this is meant as a cautionary tale - perhaps when X fled Santa Barbara (my turf, and those friends of his here? They were mine first - and still are, every last one of them) for L.A., he met a beautiful, fashion-obsessed Asian girl who wanted nothing more than to steam his rice, roll his sushi, keep up with Cosmo and blissfully carry his giant, label-toting kid for a full eight months, whereopon she opted for an elective C-section so as not to gain too much weight. Come to think, L.A. was probably the perfect place for that to happen. Hmmmmm. At any rate, there you have it - Why I Don't Eat Sushi anymore, in 2,000 words or less.

8 comments:

Chiada said...

Duuuuuuuuuuuuuude. The Super Shintor Roll. *droooooool* I miss it. I want it. I will stroke it. Love it. Worship it. All of its ooey gooey goodness and salmonness and juiciness.

I can't.believe. you've NEVER tried the Super Shintori?!! I mean, come on, it's baked!

I need to buy like 10 of those to take home and freeze plus a gallon of the Chile Verde/Bean/Rice/*crack* that is my favoritest in the worldest Lito's burrito. Topped with their heavenly.divine.guacamole and salsa.

Ohmigawd. I need food!!!

Maya said...

Nope, I've tried it. Blech. It's pretty, though - that and their Rainbow roll are some of the more attractive foods I can think of. Oddly enough, I never really got into Lido's either - now La Super Rica, on the other hand....

I think I'm hungry too.

Janet said...

great story! I have the same kinds of feelings with my ex, but no sushi to go along with it.

Maya said...

Oddly, I bear X absolutely NO feelings (other than "hope ya grew up, have a great life") at all. But apparently my stomach remembers. Funny how that works, huh?

Lauren said...

I can't believe I've never been there! I gotta go next time I am up! Yummmmm.

I like the ending of your ex story. LA is a weird place.

Maya said...

It's good - tiny, but good. Bonus: Actual Japanese sushi chefs and a fun 'interactive' sushi bar. Wooooow!

the sightspeed guy said...

Ronin the movie is rad. Best car chase scene ever. Recognize.

Maya said...

Still...not worthy of naming your firstborn after. Think of all the cruel rhyming nicknames! Ronin' was moanin'.....you get my drift. Poor kid.