I knew that Dan and I were different when I married him. Hell, that’s part of the reason I married him – our differences help us balance each other out. But there is one difference I just can’t get behind: His aversion to sushi.
Sushi has been one of my favorite foods for as long as I can remember. The first time I ate sushi, I must have been three or four years old. My dad bought me tekka maki (tuna roll), and sliced the pieces in half so they were more child-friendly. I scarfed down the entire plate so quickly, it came back up almost immediately. I was in love.
Since then, I’ve branched out to other variations. Futomaki. Tobiko. Unagi. And the latest love of my life, tako.
I love sushi. I can’t get enough of it. I will eat the fancy nigiri from a four-star restaurant as quickly as I will eat the hastily prepared rainbow roll from Safeway. And the more exotic you can make it, the better. Rarely do I find myself ordering California rolls, spider rolls, or any of the other basics. Instead, put some fruit in it. Set it on fire. Serve me food that has a face. I’m down for whatever.
Dan is naturally adventurous. The cross-country road trip we went on was his idea. He has no problem picking up and driving three hours for the day just to check out a town we’ve never been to before. He’ll take the long way just for the view.
But when it comes to food, he’s a meat and potatoes kind of guy. He lives on a combination of Kraft macaroni and cheese, ground beef, and hot dogs. He drinks nothing but beer and whiskey. In short, he has the palate of a seventy-year-old Midwesterner.
And that’s fine, but I’m a little bit more adventurous when it comes to food. In spite of the fact that I’m allergic to everything, I still love to taste and try and experiment with food. And sushi is one of the best arenas in which to do that, because you’re dealing with fresh, minimal ingredients. You want to throw some salmon on top of my tuna? Sure, why not? Add some avocado? Maybe that sweet unagi sauce? Done.
But Dan isn’t interested. He “doesn’t like sushi.” Which I think is bullshit, because there are SO MANY different kinds of sushi and there’s no way he’s tried all of them. You don’t like the raw stuff? No problem – try the cooked. You don’t like the fish? No problem – try the veggie rolls or something with chicken. THERE ARE SO MANY OPTIONS. WHY CAN’T YOU JUST HUMOR ME?!!
But this is yet another marital compromise. He will take me to sushi, and I can have sushi while he has chicken teriyaki. He will not share with me. He will not try anything. He will not so much as look at my plate. But he will be there, keeping me company, dreaming of potatoes.
That’s probably as good as it’s going to get, and I love him anyway. Most of the time.