The art of sushi and adulting



I feel like as you become an adult and overcome that weird ‘who am I’ phase (literally haven’t gotten over that phase) you kind of fall into a rhythm. Leaving school and college and then joining the workforce (the workforce of life. Ew.) you kind of shed that child exoskeleton you carry around for the better part of the first two decades of your life.


And then you get a job, usually with people unlike any other you’ve met. People of all ages with different life stories who have different likes and dislikes. A job where the people you work with and meet kind of change your ingrained childhood perspective a little. A job where the people don’t know who you are and where you can reinvent your naked snakey self (ew) with a sharp, sophisticated exterior. Letting people know you’re the boss. That you are the queen.


That you are an adult.


But here's the thing about being an adult. I’m still not sure what I’m doing half the time. I think to myself, what do adults do? And I try to be responsible - like a fully developed adult - and eat healthy, do yoga, meditate, stay hydrated, save money, worry about money. The whole shebang. But I never realised one skill that would honestly take me one rung higher on the ladder of life to feeling a little adultier than I did before.


Making sushi.


Now before you exit the post and mutter something to yourself along the lines of ‘damn millennials. Impressed by everything. Anyone can be famous. Anyone is fabulous. You love all. You eat so many avocados there won’t be any left by 2020. Bleh bleh bleh…’ I implore you don’t. I know making sushi sounds trivial but I felt accomplished.


You need specific ingredients to make them - namely nori, sushi rice, rice vinegar, a sushi rolling mat (jump to the angry person reading this, telling me back in the day they made it with old carpet, pudding rice, malt vinegar and some old decking) and a lot of nerves. I was nervous about learning how to make it because I really wanted to. I mean, the rice ended up being the most technical part (which I wasn’t expecting) because the rice is sensitive to metal spoons and you cant remove the lid after simmering. Then comes cooling, but you can’t do it in the fridge because it could damage those beautiful little grains of rice. Then the rolling stressed me out because nori is surprisingly less rigid than I expected and flaked (which, in hindsight, makes sense because it is seaweed). Plus I never knew if the rice was spread too thick or too thin. Did I put too much bell pepper in? And then cutting was super scary. The knife wouldn’t go through and my already misshapen rolls got even more odd looking.


But then I ate them. It was cool. Tasted just like sushi. The rice killed it. I don’t know how they came up with the seasoning but it gives me life.


Anyway, I thought I would share how the art of making sushi - an ancient art originally intended to preserve fish - made me feel slightly more accomplished under the cold bosom of January.

If you made it to the end of this post without braining yourself with your keyboard, you deserve a medal.


More soon,


Jess.    






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