"Japanese" Food*

After a long day of class, followed by the dizzying experience that was the UW Career Fair, my friend Charlene and I went out to dinner - to Blue C sushi.

I thought it was funny that we ended up getting sushi, because we had a discussion about obento just a few hours earlier in my Anthropology of Food class. And yes, I know that sushi and obento are not the same thing at all - though sometimes obento will include sushi as a part of the meal. But I do think that the same aesthetic principles apply - everything is small, cut into tiny pieces, with colors and textures arranged in a pleasing manner, and everything arranged neatly on separate plates. Of course, all of this tiny, pleasant beauty is overwhelmed by the rest of Blue C's atmosphere - pumping techno music, video footage of young, attractive Japanese dancing in the streets is projected on the wall. And constantly the food rolls by on a conveyor belt, tempting you to eat more.

And though I've heard several sushi hot-shots criticize it, I think the food at Blue C is good... but perhaps this is because it's been so Americanized. Yes, they do have raw sushi at Blue C, but this is often the stuff that sits on the conveyor belt for awhile until a truly adventurous person decides to find out what "flying fish roe" is. But most of what they make are rolls. Hundreds and hundreds of California, Crab, and Spicy Tuna rolls, but also some less common, and some I'd never seen before. Actually, I have a feeling that some of these are Blue C exclusives - not meaning that no one else makes them, really, but meaning that you couldn't walk into just any sushi joint and order a "Las Vegas Roll" and expect them to know what you mean. The Las Vegas Roll, by the way, is just as decadent as the name suggests. Avacado, cream cheese, unagi (eel, my favorite), and rice are wrapped in seaweed and deep fried. I wonder what Japanese people think of this - it seems so much richer than other sushi, so inauthentic.

That makes me think of something Ann said in class yesterday, about culture flow and "reverse culture-flow," basically referring to the way that Western culture has invaded countries around the globe, and how the opposite is now happening - the Western world, the U.S. in particular, is adopting all of these foods and products and practices and aesthetics from elsewhere. Some might find this a little odd and even a little disconcerting. I know there was one visitor in our class who expressed that he found it "odd that you [Americans] find our [Japanese] food appetizing... it would seem more natural for the Japanese person to want the obento and the American person to want the sandwich."

I can see both sides of this young man's comment. For the Japanese, the appeal of the obento lies in its familiarity. It was perhaps made by thier mother, or it at least bears some resemblence to the food made by one's mother. The tastes are familiar as well, with a main course of rice and perhaps some pickled fruit, vegetables, or fish of which the Japanese are so fond. But to the American, what is the attraction? The foods, while they are becoming more mainstream in the U.S., are still not a part of the average American's daily menu, and are certainly not remnicent of childhood foods. In fact, most Americans I know who enjoy "sushi" and "Japanese Food" do not like the ginger and wasabi that accompanies their california rolls, and do not appreciate the umeboshi (pickled plum) alongside the green tea ice cream. Most Americans only like sushi when it is adapted to American tastes (thus my use of quote marks above) and served in a restaurant or in packaging that emphasizes the Japanese-ness of the food they are consuming. So while the Japanese are consuming sushi or obento because both the idea of the food and the taste of the food are familiar, Americans who consume "sushi" or "bento" eat it because the idea of the food is exotic, but the taste has been tempered to the American palette, and is thus familiar.

Is this bad? I don't think this sort of culture flow is necessarily bad or good. I can see it going the way of Chinese Food, though - becoming incredibly Americanized, but leading to a general appreciation of "Chinese Culture" by Americans - who, in reality, know nothing about real Chinese food or real Chinese culture. But putting that quandry aside, I will likely go back to Blue C again - even if it's for a Las Vegas roll.

A Family Legend

There's a story that we always have to tell in my family. Actually, I'm sure we're all sick of it by now, but it just comes out of our mouths like vomit every time the word "mushroom" is uttered within earshot. And although everyone is sick of it, even the person telling the story, the silent code of our family states that we must sit and listen to this story all the way through, and smile, nod, and laugh as if it were the funniest thing we had ever heard.

I was perhaps 13 years old when the fabled event occured at a restaurant at the Washington Coast. The name of the place is the Ocean Crest, and it is a snooty, over-priced restaurant attached to a hotel of the same name, located about 30 miles outside of Ocean Shores. Being perched on a hill overlooking the beach, it was only appropriate that this restaurant served almost nothing but seafood. My father, redneck that he is, did not see this to be any excuse to order some delicate entre like seared halibut fillets drizzled with lemon aioli over a bed of fresh spinach with rice pilaf. No, he wanted a steak - a Man-Steak - and so he ordered the Portobello Mushroom Steak, with a heaping side of potatoes, and, ok, I guess it came with a vegetable too, though that was of little meaning.

When the entrees arrived, all seemed well - everything was beautifully presented and piping hot - so we dug in. Well, Mom, Nana, and I dug in... and Dad just stared at his food. For it was a rather odd-looking steak. It was very dark brown in color, almost black, and softly rounded in shape. What's more, there were no mushrooms to be seen. It seemed that the chef had forgotten the mushroom garnish, or mushroom sauce, or whatever mushroomy thing it was that gave this steak its name. But the mushrooms weren't that big a deal to Dad - as long as the meat was there, that was all he cared about. So he began to eat, and we all began to talk about things other than food. A short while later, Dad interrupted the conversation to say, "I think I know where the mushrooms are." He stabbed the steak with his fork and flipped it over to reveal a slimy, black substance clinging to the meat, and a portrusion from the center of the steak. For the steak was not a steak at all - at least, not a meat steak. The oddly colored circular meat my father had been eating was a gigantic portobello mushroom, grilled and served as a main course.

After a long minute of staring at the gigantic fungus, Mom looked at Nana, who looked at me, and we all slowly began to laugh... and laugh some more... throughout the rest of dinner we debated whether or not Dad should explain the mistake to the waiter and re-order. In the end, Dad's pride held out, and he poked the mushroom around on his plate for the rest of the night... and ate a peanut butter sandwich when we got back to the hotel.

Image courtesey of: Wikimedia Commons, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Giant_mushroom_underside.jpg