Nothin' fishy about sushi and the lesbos

It only seems natural to preempt any description of Tsukiji with a lesbian joke. So here's an oldie but a goldie.

What is the definition of confusion? A group of blind lesbians in a fish market.

Snatch to me, surrounded by sushi at 6am in Tokyo's famous Tsukiji fish market - a fish foodie paradise. Yes, the image (me surrounded by sushi) has been formed before but only in the metaphorical sense. This was literal.

Arose at 5am. And about 30 minutes later so did my erstwhile Tokyo-based friends (bless them - going out of their way to give the lesbo her feed of sushi). We drove in a semi-slumber to the bustling bazaar of all things fish. Upon entering, we were quickly woken by crazed motorized trolley drivers zipping in and around the market, transporting precious oceanic morsels to the morning traders.

Considering the fishiness of it all I was very surprised at the lack of bad smell. Sure, the scent of fish was in the air. But not rotting fish. Which - in my experience living in Southeast Asia - is usually the first thing you smell. In fact the odour can hit you within a kilometre radius. It is beyond pungent. Even the thought of Bangkok's Klong Toey wet market on a sizzling 40 degree day brings tears to my eyes and causes me to dry retch. So does the market in my current residence of Hoi An. It is pure olfactory foul.



So anyway, further encouraged by the deficiency of pongy seafood, we searched for our source of tasty pleasure. The name given was Yomato sushi. Or Yamoto. Anyway, it turned out to have an entirely different name which I can't remember. It's a narrow little sushi bar with three chefs behind the counter. Usually the queue outside this famous restaurant is long. You wait around an hour at least to get a seat. But this was one of the benefits of visiting Japan post-quake. One's tragedy can predict another's good fortune I suppose. This is me waxing philosophical. I feel awful of course for the people who suffered after the tsunami. But I also think that tourists who cancelled their trips because of the event are crap. All the more reason to go to Japan and contribute to their suffering economy I say (in between healthy mouthfuls of sushi).



Back to the menu ... The highlight is definitely Toro, or the raw belly of the Tuna. Ooh yeah. I gulped down 2 or 3 of these Toro slivers on the wasabi-filled sushi rice. Absolute unadulterated culinary bliss. Then I ate some regular Tuna. Some White Fish. Some Tuna roe. And some Tamago (the egg roll). The portions were sizeable and I had a little difficulty fitting them entirely into my mouth, but I attempted them all anyway and whatever didn't fit in, fell onto the counter or stuck to my boobs (or the cleavage catchment - where I store all my leftovers for later). The chef in front was obviously amused at my clumsy sushi eating habits. He pointed at the little soy sauce bowl, which was swimming with numerous uncooperative bits of rice. Obviously I'm not the sushi expert I imagined myself to be.



Thanks to the translation skills of Kana we got to asking aforementioned amused sushi chef about his line of work. He'd been cutting raw fish and smooshing it on rice for 25 years. Apparently this is nothing. Some dudes had been there for 50 years plus, he said. How long does it take to become a master? About 10 years, depending on your aptitude. Did I want to become a sushi chef? Yes, I said. But I am way too lazy. He laughed some more. We paid and went on our way.

Inside the actual market, every form of seafood imaginable can be found. Colourful crabs, octopi (which is the plural for octopus, instead of octopussies, which I learned from a highly entertaining episode of Little Britain where Lou at the aquarium discovers the correct spelling of octopi and says "oh I see, I always get my pussies and my pies mixed up"), tuna, mackerel, salmon, abalone, oysters, scallops (the size of my handbag - seriously huge), clams (bearded ones too) and so on. The traders are busy so they don't humour tourists. Buyers rushing from one stall to another will gruffly push you out of the way. You have to be rather nimble on your feet because if you get pushed into the ongoing trolley traffic you could seriously be injured. Anyway, I managed a few shots (albeit blurred) of the market and its fresh supplies. It was truly amazing but I was also happy after 30 minutes to get out of there. Too many perilous possibilities.

Fortunately for me, I got to go back to the flat and slumber again with a belly full of tuna. It was a wonderful dream-filled sleep, featuring me swimming through oceans of tuna. Poor Kana had to go to work. The things people do for their very fishy friends.