Step-by-Step Sushi

It was worth the wait. "It" being sushi. I have been waiting since before college for various friends to take me for sushi because I was just too nervous to go alone. It wasn’t the dining alone, of course. I have regular “date nights” where I go out to a solo dinner and a movie. I find something exciting and yet also relaxing about choosing where to go and what to have – having only to please myself.


As for the sushi, it was the food itself that made me nervous. I don’t know why – I love fish and seafood and the look of maki rolls had always appealed to me. I guess this was one of those rare times when I preferred a guide to help me embark on a new and interesting cuisine. My pointed evasion of sushi lasted quite a long time until I started trying various non-raw rolls like California, Philadelphia, Boston, cucumber, and avocado. Something about ordering Japanese food only with the names of U.S. cities made me feel like I was cheating. Sushi, after all, is more than just the familiar rolls and most contain some raw element. It was time for the next step.

I broke out my sushi mat from Pearl River Mart and made my own California rolls at home with a little help from Sunrise Mart on Stuyvesant Street. Much like the excitement of ordering dinner for one, I got a kick out of browsing through a grocery store that featured packages with little-to-no English. I found SushiParty soy wrappers to take the place of Nori (the seaweed sheets used to wrap maki) and because I knew I wouldn’t have the patience to make rice, I bought a pint from Sushi Hana in Brooklyn. I rolled carefully (one with rice inside and one with rice outside) and the result was both tasty and colorful - the soy wrappers come in green, pink, orange and yellow.

Finally, a few weeks ago, a friend took me as his guest to a restaurant called Jin on the Lower East Side with a large group of his cast mates. I ordered a Shrimp Tempura roll – again, nothing raw about it, but I thought it would be a tiny step up from a plain old veggie roll. My friend – one of the friends who had planned to take me out for sushi – fulfilled the plan by offering me a piece of either Spicy Tuna or Spicy Salmon roll, which I accepted. It’s ridiculous; I don’t even remember which fish was my first raw fish experience!

I loved it. I guess the way I was chewing made my friend think I was going to spit it out, but I really did like it. Let's say I was trying to take in the moment and really enjoy the flavor. There are still many other raw pieces of Japanese cuisine that I should try, like a big hunk of sashimi, but I was happy to have finally taken my big step of eating raw sushi. I had unnecessarily built up the occasion, but it did not disappoint in the least. If I knew what kind it was, I would definitely order it again!

Lasagna... a Little Late

Understatement: It’s been a while. But don’t worry; I’ve still been eating and even cooking a bit. Most recently, (and by that I mean I have over half a pan of leftovers), I made my first lasagna from scratch. Well, this morning someone asked me if I made the noodles – honestly, who does that? I’ll take a little help from Ronzoni, thanks. But other than that, I assembled a pretty tasty layering of spinach (my fear of this vegetable has subsided), mushrooms, and the usual cheeses with a white cream sauce.

I’ve picked up a lot of interesting techniques and terms from watching and reading about food, but one that has continued to scare me is “roux.” I started hearing this word a while back on several Food Network shows, but had no idea what they were talking about. Apparently it serves as the first step in making your own macaroni and cheese, which is something that is still high on my list of culinary aspirations. I love you deeply, Kraft, but there’s something rewarding about answering “yes” to the question, “Did you really make this?”

So in order to answer “yes” to my lasagna, I needed a roux which would, in turn, become a béchamel sauce. Seriously, not that difficult, but somehow butter, flour, and milk together on the stove with simultaneous whisking and pouring made me nervous. I started with a recipe from Emeril Lagasse, which could have been overwhelming – I don’t usually find him to be the every-cook kind of teacher – but this recipe was totally detailed and spelled out how many minutes you should stir anything before adding something new. Good man, Emeril, good man.

Complete with Parmesan and seasoning, I was proud of my homemade cream sauce, but I still had to put the thing together and bake it. Thanks to my newly repaired oven, the baking only took the forty approximated minutes – without having to open and close the door to regulate temperature. I also warmed a Tuscan Ring from Amy's Bread in the village -- still a favorite, that Amy.

After letting it cool, (and cooling myself off with a shower, since I picked the hottest day of the week to use the oven), I was cutting into my pride and joy when my roommate returned from an ugly day at work – really, any Saturday you’re at work is ugly. She was grateful for the supper and even had seconds, so I’m chalking this one up to a success (never mind the photograph, it does not look appealing, I know).

Next week we are going to see “Julie & Julia” and I am, of course, very excited. I read the book before any rumors started that it would be adapted and I have a feeling it will make a great transition. Stay tuned for what I hope (with the help of Meryl-as-Julia) will be a torrent of new cooking adventures.