Sushi ain’t no sandwich

I must be getting old. I’ve always prided myself on my ability to go with the flow. To have no plan. To simply get with the programme. Change was something to be embraced rather than eschewed. It added a certain spice to life, relieving it of its monotony. But apparently, somewhere along the way, unbeknownst to me, I changed. Me!*?

We’ve been following the renovation of a new sushi bar in Corvin Negyed. It seems to have taken an eternity to get the place remodelled, but it finally opened last month. SushiRoll is small, bright, and airy, with just a topful of tables that don’t encourage punters to hang around. It’s more of a fast-food-type place, big on take-away.

Himself came home with a tray the other night and I had a taste. It was good. So good that I went back to see for myself what was on offer.


They had prepped trays with a selection of various rolls complete with ginger and wasabi. And then they had whole rolls. I made my choice and asked if they would slice them for me.

No, they said. We can’t.
mmmm…. but you have a knife – you’ve obviously cut the others.
Yes, they said. We have.
And you have the box to put them in.
Yes, they said. We do.
But you can’t slice them for me?
No, they said. We can’t.

It didn’t take much effort to look incredulous. WTF!!!

Then I thought it might be a recycling thing. The paper bag the whole rolls came in is much friendlier than the typical plastic-lidded sushi box. But no. The wasabi and the ginger came in a plastic tub. As did the nigiri and the inari. At a loss for words, I made my selection and moved to pay. But I couldn’t let it go.

Why won’t you slice the rolls for me?

The explanation left me wondering at where the world is going. A well-rehearsed duo, the two explained that they’re trying to set a new trend whereby people opt for sushi rolls instead of sandwiches. They want to make it a fast food. And anyway, they said with a finality that brooked no further argument, that’s the way it’s done in Australia.

Completely dumbfounded, I wondered whether won’t might have been the word to use instead of can’t. I took my rolls home, sliced them, and ate them, as I usually do. I like the ritual of sushi, drawing it out and savouring each bite. Somehow eating a roll like a sausage seemed strange. They are really good, though, and I will go back.

Sometimes, it’s best to leave well enough alone. But I couldn’t. The next day, I had fab summer rolls from Hanoi Xu’a up near Nagyvarad tér at Ernő u. 30-34. Fresh, fat, and long, loaded with veg and shrimp, I dunked each one in the peanut sauce and loved it. I’d never dream of slicing them. So what gives? Why am I so reluctant to dunk my sushi rolls? Is it me resisting change? Or am I simply taking a recalcitrant stance against being prescribed to? Or maybe I have an innate aversion to trends? WTFK!




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One Response

  1. Interculturality, Mary – Magyar impact on Japanese cuisine. No doubt there is a sushi version of babgulyás doing the rounds somewhere out East . . .

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