Facing Raw Fish

Hello. My name is Ashley, and I am an ichthyophobe. That is, I have an irrational fear of fish. It’s certainly not the most severe case of this phobia, but it’s enough to limit my contact with the breathtaking ocean filled with sea creatures that surrounds me. In addition to making damn certain that I do not come into physical contact with a fish, I am of course very particular about how I ingest seafood, on the rare occasion that I do. If the supposed "food" resembles a live creature, if for instance the skin or legs or head are still attached, my appetite is sunk. So, it’s not surprising that sushi has never been a dietary option for me.

I feel a tad shameful about this aversion toward eating and touching sea creatures, in part, because sushi is very hip. The elements of design, health, and exoticism appeal to anyone who fancies sophistication, especially in regard to their gastronomic habits. Since I’d like to be both sophisticated and hip, I have tried sushi on a couple occasions. But I hated even the California roll. So, I deduced that I wasn’t a sushi person, not solely because I’m squeamish about fish, but because I don’t like something else foundational about sushi. I blamed it on the seaweed.

Last Friday I progressed a step forward in facing my fish fear when we defied routine and went out for sushi. Mike loves it and hasn’t eaten any in the six months since I’ve been here. So partly for him, I decided to be open to the experience. It helped that Beth is vegan, so I wouldn’t be the only one ordering a vegetarian roll. Since I’d had somewhat of a heavy, late lunch, I wasn’t too worried about not getting full either. Naturally, this is something that would worry me.

Enkai is situated in Frenchtown, but not where all the other restaurants live. Rather, it’s tucked back where the Contiki and other party vessels are docked. The restaurant is open-air, dimly-lit and cozily Asian-inspired. We sit in a row of three at a high table overlooking the dock. A fish swims around a bright light in the water. It’s a big fish. Bigger than a Muskie or a Northern. It looks like a small shark to me. We spot more and more fish until we finally realize that not one, but something like seven fish are swimming around the light. And instead of allowing the fish to stifle my appetite, I opt to relax and enjoy the beauteous moment.

Mike knows what he wants without looking at the menu and insists I try a bite. Since the description of what he orders includes something called eel sauce (a doubly nasty creature, being part fish and part snake) I advise him that the chances of me trying his food are incredibly slim. I ask to please be allowed to simply enjoy my veggie roll tonight. Building an appreciation for seaweed is adventure enough for me right now, thank you very much.

Beth and I split an avocado roll and each order a veggie as well, hers with no dairy please. The sushi rolls are elegantly served—the plate arrangement looks truly like a piece of art. Mike's spicy tuna wrap sits in the center of his plate, framed on the left and right by his highly desired This is How I Roll roll, on the outside of which is draped pink, fresh raw fish of some kind. I think it salmon but later discover it to be tuna. Drizzled artfully over the top is a red sauce, which I suppose somehow contains eel. However, so taken am I by the beauty of the sushi rolls, I don’t really think too much about the eel. It also helps that my ginger mojito is almost completely gone by this point, and I'm fixing to order a glass of white wine.

My fish-free rolls are amazingly delicious and satisfying. I find that I delight in dipping the segments into soy sauce and wasabi paste. And I love the sliver thin slices of fresh ginger. Proving myself a complete sushi novice, I use Beth’s sauce dish for dipping my first couple bites until she points out to me that I have my own bowl in front of me for which to dip. Oops.

Mike is so enthusiastic about his This is How I Roll that he convinces Beth, the devoted vegan, to try a piece. Tempura shrimp and raw tuna with eel sauce definitely fall under the category of animal products, in my mind, and I'm sure Beth's as well. I also know she hasn't forgotten that there is more than likely dairy in the rolls. Oh, the power of persuasian and a well-designed environment...

The bite impresses her. It impresses her so much, in fact, that she has another. And then she joins Mike into pressuring encouraging me to try a piece for myself.

“Just try it, Ash. You’re the only person I know who doesn’t like sushi,” he urges.

“Can’t you just be happy that I’m even eating a vegetable roll?” I say, not unlike a teenager. “It’s progress! Plus, I’m eating with chopsticks too. I haven’t mentioned forks all evening!”

“I just think you’ll like it.” He replies, shrugging.

I look to Beth for support. She doesn’t help.

“Ashley just try a piece. It’s good. It tastes familiar. Like home.”

Somehow this convinces me.

So I let the piece soak in soy sauce and wasabi before popping it in my mouth, trying to sop up as much enjoyable flavor as possible.

But she’s right, it is familiar. And it’s good.

The last time I ate sushi, it tasted like someone had plucked a sea creature and a piece of seaweed from the ocean, rolled it with some rice, and plopped it directly on my plate. But this, this tastes like delicious, warm, flavorful food.

I feel a bit victorious afterward, similar to the proud glow I felt after losing my virginity. Perhaps I’m on my way to becoming one of the cool kids after all.