It’s all about the Pink Stuff

heart sushi

My husband loves me.

I know this because he took me out for sushi.  He despises fish that has been cooked so for him to purposely take me to a sushi bar to eat raw fish proves that he loves me.  Unfortunately when he took me he was slightly sleep deprived from working the night before – thereby causing him to be…. well… goofy.

So we walked in to the building and immediately could smell gas.  They had just opened so I just figured they had just started up the hibachi grills.  My firefighter husband was ready to back out and call the fire department, Gas Company and evacuate the 2 businesses on either side.  I continued to walk into the seating area and he followed me and sat down.  Then the conversation went like this.

Him:   “Don’t you smell that?”

Me:     “Yes, but I just figured that they just fired up the grill.”

Him:   “But it shouldn’t smell like that.  I don’t want to blow up at lunch; do you want to blow up at lunch?”

Me:     “No, I don’t want to blow up but I want to eat.  It’s probably like when I light the grill and can’t get it to light and the whole back yard smells like a natural gas explosion waiting to happen.”

The menu distracted him for a while, and then the waitress brought us drinks.  She left.

Him:   “You smell gas right.”

Me:     “Yes but it’s not as bad as before.”

Him:   “I really don’t want to blow up at a sushi bar.”

Me:     “Do you want to call 911?”

He hesitated.  He actually considered it.

Him:   “No but I still don’t want to blow up at lunch.”

Me:     “Well tell the waitress, see if she smells it.”

I was ignoring the slight light headedness and instant headache that hit me when he asked (psychosomatic much?).  Luckily the lack of sleep was making him about as focused as a chipmunk drinking espresso so when the waitress came back we ordered food and he didn’t mention the gas.  We then seemed to have a somewhat normal lunch conversation.  I ordered us miso soup though and meant to order onion soup.  Other than it being salty the miso soup wasn’t too bad, but he didn’t like it.

Then our entrée’s arrived.  I don’t stray with sushi, I stick to things I know like California Rolls, Tuna Rolls, maybe some kind of salmon but nothing like the kind they light on fire and bring to the table, although it might have been fun to see the terror in my husband eyes with a live flame and all the gas floating in the air.  I had ordered a California Roll with a small scoop of wasabi and the pink stuff that always comes with sushi.  I didn’t really know what the pink stuff was I just knew that I liked it.  I looked at my husband’s entrée which was supposed to be Hibachi Chicken but it looked more like a Tyson breaded chicken breast with some soy sauce poured over it.  I was happy I was eating sushi for lunch, so what if my husband was having a panic attack waiting for a gas explosion while eating generic processed chicken.

About half way through lunch my husband finally gave up on the Hibachi Chicken.

Him:  “This tastes like a Tyson frozen chicken patty with some generic soy sauce on it.”

Me:  “Want some sushi?”

The look I got can’t really be described.  It wasn’t pleasant though.

Me:  “Here just try the pink stuff, it doesn’t taste fishy.”

Him:  “What is it?”

Me:  “I’m not sure?  Salmon maybe?”

“That’s fishy, do you smell gas?”

Him:  “No, and it doesn’t taste fishy, I promise.”

Reluctantly and possibly due to high CO levels in the restaurant he reached his fork over and snagged a piece of the pink stuff.  I watched his reaction.  He was pleasantly surprised.

Him:  “That’s not bad”

Me:  “See I told you.”

Him:  “Look at me I’m eating sushi.”

He was pretty proud of himself for eating sushi.  But I still didn’t really know what the pink stuff was.  It kind of looked like it might be sushi related.  So I asked the waitress.  In case anyone doesn’t know the pink stuff is called Gari which is thinly sliced ginger marinated in sugar and vinegar.  By this time my husband looked completely deflated.  The combination of the gas leak, the fake hibachi chicken and the letdown of thinking he actually tried sushi but didn’t had overwhelmed him to the point that I knew we needed to leave.  I also knew I would never eat there for lunch again.

As we were leaving he smelled the gas again.  I really had no explanation for the smell at this point as we had been there for an hour so maybe they did have a gas leak.  I managed to get him out the door without calling 911.  My guess is that if it was an out of the ordinary smell someone who worked there would call 911.  I’ll never know if it’s normal or not though as we haven’t ever returned.  Just the mention of the sushi place leads into a overdramatic rendition of the near death experience of the gas leak.

But even as he embellishes all the details of the gas leak and having to crawl out of the restaurant with oxygen masks to survive, and how his chicken was 3 day old leftovers from the Hibachi Chef’s kids birthday party – he still admits he liked the pink stuff.

I found this blog lurking unsuspectingly on one of my old flash drives – apparently I never posted it.  Maybe I’ll find some more!!

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