Sushi: Not just a fad.

Since the beginning of this year’s quest for a braver self, I’ve been toying with the idea of eating sushi. To put it mildly, I find raw fish intimidating. Actually, I find all fish intimidating, even canned tuna. I think it relates back to a tragic childhood incident with a suicidal goldfish. Perhaps finding the tiny, orange corpse on the carpet was visually suggestive of sushi, but we’ll never know for sure.

The first thing I discovered about sushi, before I even tried it, is that people who love it will literally go out of their way to share their enthusiasm for it with you. In fact, this adventure became something of a field trip for several other Fiat staff members who were good enough to come along and show me the ropes.

Rainbow Heaven Restaurant, specializing in Chinese and Japanese cuisine, is tucked away on Seneca street in Hornell and comes very highly recommended by just about everyone that I’ve asked in the Alfred area. The interior is spacious, clean and slightly reminiscent of a cafeteria, but inviting. Seated at our table, one colleague remarked that the music sounded like a “Japanese version of Jeopardy,” which seemed appropriate given the challenging nature of first-time sushi selection.

It’s probably frowned upon to edit the menu for mistakes, but with a table full of newspaper editors, there was no avoiding that. Also, there are only so many times you should accept the wrong drink before you acknowledge that something is misspelled, good sport or not.

Sushi, I’ve come to learn, is a relatively formal experience. Your interaction with the sushi chef, or the Itamae, is apparently crucial. I am relieved now that I did not ask anyone “how fresh is the fish?” because I might have offended the man who handled not only my food, but a very large and sharp knife that he is most certainly an expert at using. Unfortunately, I did make some faux pas in the etiquette department. For example, it is considered impolite to give or receive sushi with the eating-end of the chopsticks. In reflection, that one seems pretty obvious for hygienic purposes, but according to sushifaq.com it is also symbolic of passing a deceased relative’s bones across the table … that was somewhat less obvious. As it turns out, it’s just easier and more socially acceptable to extend the plate and allow someone to use the “grip-ends” of the chopsticks to take the sushi.

I should have ordered less, because by leaving food on the plate, it would appear that I am dissatisfied with it. I simply couldn’t make up my mind between the Spicy Tuna Rolls, the Shrimp Tempura or the Philadelphia Rolls, so I ordered all of them. All three are a type of makizushi, which is rolled sashimi grade fish, often with rice and various other ingredients within a sheet of dried seaweed (also called nori). The list of options is much too long to recount now and is certainly worth investigating, but these items were recommended for their milder, more "rookie-friendly" flavors. I could also have ordered Nigirizushi (pieces of sliced sashimi on pads of rice), but that might have been too intense for my first experience. Our waiter generously offered to pay for whatever I didn’t like, but I suspect this was due to the unreasonable amount of time I was taking to order.

If anything at all can be said for this cuisine, presentation is taken very seriously. The table seemed to brighten as our orders arrived. Colorful pieces of fish and garnish, like dashes of paint on canvas sat before us, drawing our attention. It was a pitty to disrupt the arrangements, but this treat for the eyes had more to offer.

I expected sushi to have an overpowering taste of seaweed. Like the dripping wet, leafy chains washed up on the beach. In reality, the smell is there, but it’s more like a hint of ocean air than a sea-monster baking in the sun.

I may have used too much wasabi (Japanese horseradish) and the cream cheese inside the Philadelphia roll was a little imposing, but I found the actual fish flavor to be very subtle, so mild that I had to savor it. The delicate texture felt something like biting into a sliver of fresh strawberry without the juice ... not dry, but only slightly moist. You would hardly need teeth at all, if it weren’t for the nori and the density of the rice.

I left Rainbow Heaven, not wondering why it is the place where good rainbows go when they die, but thinking that eating sushi is a wonderfully social experience. It illuminated the joy of eating in a way that pizza and chicken wings never could. There is something almost ritualistic about it. Sushi brings many factors of life into one artistic ensemble of color, flavor, etiquette and sustenance. I’m beginning to understand why so many people have passion for this acquired taste, because it isn’t just the act of eating to fill an empty void, but to fill the senses.