I'm not sure just how many places sell Sushi, or at least a variation of the traditional Japanese entree that is a staple of Western Culture's ongoing obsession with the technologically super advanced island nation of Japan. But just like white guys who date Asian girls there's at least 2 or 3 everywhere.
I'll admit I like sushi- I don't love it, I like it. There's a certain faux sense of superiority when I hand over close to $20 for what equates to 2 square inches of salmon flesh arranged artistically on half a cup of boiled rice. I feel like a true cosmopolitan hipster when I use the chop sticks- if not slightly embarrassed in the presence of an Asian person (I always feel like I'm doing it wrong). And there's always a part of me that justifies the purchase...somehow. And there's the added pretentiousness of it being healthy and a source of omega 3.
The other things I like: The little fish shaped soy sauce containers, which could be the greatest marketing genius since the happy meal. They're fun, cute, toy like and I'm certain the fishing lure design is not a coincidence.
The wasabi paste, which if I can eat without it feeling like I've chemically burned my sinuses I feel I'm a head of the game.
The pink ginger, like a marriage made in randomness.
But it is at the end of the day, overhyped, overpriced, and overdoing it- especially when you see the queue outside the newest Sushi Train restaurant in the city.
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