Sushi
In the end, rather than marmite on toast (not that there's anything wrong with marmite on toast, mind you. One of my favourite things, in fact), I made sushi for The Great Homecoming Dinner.
I've never made sushi at home before, but over the years I have received a lot of sushi-making paraphanelia as birthday presents. People have obviously recognised that my personality is well suited to this occupation (patience, picky attention to detail etc), and I have finally come round to it.
I began the day with a trip to the fishmonger in Twickenham. This fishmonger normally has a queue out the door and down the road by mid-morning on a Saturday. Previously I thought that this was because it was very popular. Having been there, I now think it more likely that it is because the well-meaning young lads behind the counter are almost entirely inept, bless their little cotton socks. And only one of them is qualified to use sharp knives. However, I was there early enough to be served and out of the shop within a reasonable 20 minutes or so, armed with four different types of fish (and many less £s).
There were lots of laborious preparations for the sushi-making: the mackerel needed to be salted and then marinaded in rice vinegar; the bass needed to be scalded with hot water to soften the skin; the shiitake (sp?) mushrooms needed soaking and then simmering in stock; the sushi rice had to be boiled and then dressed and stirred until cold. I had also planned on cooking a bit of Japanese omelette and tempura prawns, but at that rate we'd have been eating around midnight, so I just moved on to the assembly phase.
There is only one thing you need to know about assembling sushi: the rice sticks to everything. The worktop, your hands, the knife. And then when you reach for the topping, bits of it stick to new areas on the worktop, up your elbows, on the taps, the teatowels. Once you have reconciled yourself to spending the rest of your life picking bits of rice out of your hair, the whole process is quite enjoyable. My first effort (an inside-out spicy tuna roll) turned out okay-ish. Quite scruffy, particularly after I tried to slice it. But a bit of tidying up made it at least recognisable.
The second effort was a maki roll (the thin sort with just one stick of filling down the middle). My first attempt was over-full of rice and therefore the seaweed wouldn't meet. And when I tried to pick some of the rice out it got stuck to my fingers, the rolling mat, the clingfilm etc etc. (Are you sensing a theme, here?) Anyway, after the second maki roll, I was on a roll myself you might say. I ended up making about 40 pieces of sushi in all. I did derive a certain satisfaction from surveying my handiwork. Viewed en masse, it was possible to overlook the wierdy falling-apart and wonky bits and enjoy the overall effect. Most pleasing.
I've never made sushi at home before, but over the years I have received a lot of sushi-making paraphanelia as birthday presents. People have obviously recognised that my personality is well suited to this occupation (patience, picky attention to detail etc), and I have finally come round to it.
I began the day with a trip to the fishmonger in Twickenham. This fishmonger normally has a queue out the door and down the road by mid-morning on a Saturday. Previously I thought that this was because it was very popular. Having been there, I now think it more likely that it is because the well-meaning young lads behind the counter are almost entirely inept, bless their little cotton socks. And only one of them is qualified to use sharp knives. However, I was there early enough to be served and out of the shop within a reasonable 20 minutes or so, armed with four different types of fish (and many less £s).
There were lots of laborious preparations for the sushi-making: the mackerel needed to be salted and then marinaded in rice vinegar; the bass needed to be scalded with hot water to soften the skin; the shiitake (sp?) mushrooms needed soaking and then simmering in stock; the sushi rice had to be boiled and then dressed and stirred until cold. I had also planned on cooking a bit of Japanese omelette and tempura prawns, but at that rate we'd have been eating around midnight, so I just moved on to the assembly phase.
There is only one thing you need to know about assembling sushi: the rice sticks to everything. The worktop, your hands, the knife. And then when you reach for the topping, bits of it stick to new areas on the worktop, up your elbows, on the taps, the teatowels. Once you have reconciled yourself to spending the rest of your life picking bits of rice out of your hair, the whole process is quite enjoyable. My first effort (an inside-out spicy tuna roll) turned out okay-ish. Quite scruffy, particularly after I tried to slice it. But a bit of tidying up made it at least recognisable.
The second effort was a maki roll (the thin sort with just one stick of filling down the middle). My first attempt was over-full of rice and therefore the seaweed wouldn't meet. And when I tried to pick some of the rice out it got stuck to my fingers, the rolling mat, the clingfilm etc etc. (Are you sensing a theme, here?) Anyway, after the second maki roll, I was on a roll myself you might say. I ended up making about 40 pieces of sushi in all. I did derive a certain satisfaction from surveying my handiwork. Viewed en masse, it was possible to overlook the wierdy falling-apart and wonky bits and enjoy the overall effect. Most pleasing.
posted by OboeJane at 2:36 pm
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home