By  LPJ

I had two of the best sushis I’ve ever eaten. One was called Mermaid, tempura shrimp  wrapped in light vinegar-flavored rice and thin seaweed, topped with salmon and avocado. The other was baked and mayo-flavored miniature scallops piled on top of a roll with imitation crab in the middle. I enjoy sushis of any shape or make.  I actually am not particular about what’s wrapped by the seaweed and rice, as long as the roll tastes good. But I sometimes surprise people I eat with by using my fingers and not chop sticks or fork to pick up the sushi and shove it into my mouth.

A few nights ago we feasted on sushis brought home by my daughter Joy and son-in-law Matt, ordered from a popular Japanese eatery at downtown Hermosa Beach, LA. My appetite peaked when Joy and Matt described how delicious the rolls were that they bought on Thursday nights when the special promo was buy one and get the second at half price. Great. The promo was perfect. I‘d get not one but two specialty rolls. I could hardly wait for Thursday night.

Thursday night came, my order of mermaid and baked scallops in front of me, with a pair of chopsticks and a fork beside.  I had a tool choice. Setting aside the sticks and fork, eagerly I picked up one roll with my fingers. Amused  stares from Joy and Matt.  Using my fingers to lift the delicate roll, I delighted in feeling its texture, molding it to a shape that could fit in my mouth, closed my eyes as I took pleasure in sniffing its aroma. A Japanese friend once told me that the sushi protocol is to put the entire roll in the mouth. My mermaid slice was big, and I had no qualms about biting in the middle to make two pieces out of one. Doubled the pleasure.

I have not persevered in learning the art or skill of using chop sticks. A sacrilege, maybe, to some purists. My excuse has always been, I can’t pick up enough mass from my plate to my palate. Or, the object of my attempt falls off in between the sticks and, after two futile tries, I happily give up. But what about using the fork? The roll is too big or slimy for a fork lift. I could probably cut a big roll into two with a fork and lift the half into my mouth, but it’s not as fun as handling the delicacy with my fingers, and holding that other half waiting for the next bite.  And what about a spoon, Oh, it doesn’t look right.

A myriad excuses. Stubborn about finger lifting sushi into my mouth, here’s a recap. I can control the roll whether it’s wobbly or firm. I can hold it firmly when I bite it in the middle to make two portions from one. I can hold it close to my nose to sniff its fragrance which I am prone to do before the enticing food disappears in my mouth. I can put down the roll back on my plate to collect whatever dropped and form the pieces back to a tighter roll.  And whatever was not collected, I can pick up with my fingers and slip them into my mouth. Or, I can just suspend the roll with my fingers and gaze at it to admire its shape, colors, the jigsaw pieces in its composition like a fine work of art, turning it sideways to find the delicate nuances in its look, prolonging its existence before it disappears. So, you see all the practical reasons why I love eating sushi with my fingers.

OK, I agree. Using fingers is not as glamorous, attractive, culturally inept, or socially graceful. But who knows, the norm might change to favor comfort, gusto, ease and function. I happily ate the sushis and left none that Thursday night, and then thoroughly washed my sticky fingers.

Linda P. Jacob