We Do It Raw

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When Matt and I were first married, we visited a local Chinese restaurant and, without a bit of intelligence regarding food, decided that we were going to be sophisticated and try out sushi for the first time.

The upchuck was minimal, and Matt even attempted to try Unagi (eel) before spitting it out into his napkin and shoving the plate as far away from the both of us as possible.

Over the years, his taste for the fish in it's naked state, has been properly acquired. Matt could eat sushi everyday forever and be content with life. He looks at a plate of yellowtail sashimi the way I look at a bowl of sweet cream and strawberry ice cream from Cold Stone Creamery.

It's a love affair. 

And it's not even a dirty "one night stand gonna pay for this in the morning" kind of love affair. It's innocent and I cannot begrudge him his fishy mistress.

I still hated sushi. It was a stupid idea and I firmly believed that the Japanese invented it to save money by never owning a stove or oven. But then one morning I woke up and had a craving. Not a craving for sushi, but for wasabi. And you can't just put wasabi on anything. Although one time when we were like sixteen, Matt mistook wasabi paste for guacamole and ended up choking at a Chinese Buffet.

So I began my decent into the realm of the raw fish. Slowly. Gradually.

California rolls.

Sushi with cooked fish hidden deep inside.

And then sushi covered with enough avocado that I was unaware it was actually unagi hidden deep inside.

And now I'm alongside my husband, happy to taste anything the chef wishes to prepare. My new love for sushi is beginning to rival that of P Dub. (Come to Albuquerque Ree, I'll show you the best sushi joint!)

The other night we went to Sushiya, a local Japanese restaurant here in Albuquerque. We had a coupon and the reviews online went above and beyond anything I've read prior. Not only did they have a large selection of sushi, but they offered regular dishes including yakisoba noodles.

I'm a whore for anything that reminds me of Ramen.

There's an option on the sushi menu where you let the chef decide what you deserve to eat. It literally says, "depending on the chef's mood" on the frickin menu.

Matt: What's the chef's mood like tonight?
Waiter: *stops to look over his shoulder at the chef* He uhh . . . . he okay.

We bit the bullet and ordered.

What was brought to us was nothing short of a miracle. That sushi, which was a spur of the moment creation just for us, could probably cure acne, herpes and a bad hair day all in one bite! (Hungry?)

A green chili pepper, stuffed with an array of beautiful veggies and fish, deep fried in tempura batter, wrapped in seaweed and sushi rice, topped with mango, fresh salmon and a spicy mayo sauce. I almost cried! I almost did other things that are totally inappropriate outside of one's bedroom and/or backseat.

Unfortunately . . . I was my usual self.

Me: This is so amazing! It doesn't even need sauce. It's almost kind of sweet. The waiter said it had apple core in it.
Matt: What?
Me: He said there was apple core in the sushi. I guess that's okay. I mean there's mango in it too. Or maybe he said "at the core" . . .
Matt: . . . . do you think he said, albacore? As in fish!?

He nearly choked on the beautiful sushi, he was laughing so hard.

Despite having poorly pronounced fish selections, Sushiya was unbelievable. I'm determined to never eat sushi anywhere else in Albuquerque.

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Sushiya did not pay me for my review of their beautiful restaurant. If they would like to however pay me retroactively, I would accept payment in the form of free food.