sushi mind-fuck

last week was a roller coaster. kinda.

okay. it began terrible- ended fucking incredible.

it started with me missing all things american (food, music, people, mostly the language). so, i began my quest to bring a bit of home to parma. i made the 'day changer' hamburger and some bbq chicken, but there was one culinary delight i was still missing- sushi.

i began looking on an online italian yellow pages for places to eat sushi in parma.

there are two.

so on friday i tried out the first one: shibuya. i went after a long day at the office and a decent workout. of course, having not eaten sushi in the past six weeks, fucking craving anything remotely similar to what i get in nyc.

i walk into shibuya at 7:15pm. i am the only customer in there other then a girl picking up her take-out. in america at least 3/4s of the restaurant would filled at this point.... but i guess italians feel that anything before 9pm is for old people (and american fatties).

the whole staff is japanese. they greet me in italian.

not only is this the weirdest entrance i have ever had in a sushi joint, but, instead of speaking japanese (with a side of broken english), they all spoke perfect italian.

as i begin to look over the menu i start to realize that coming alone might not have been the wisest choice (no one wanted to go because it was 'too early' to eat sushi... when the fuck is it ever too early to eat sushi??). all the rolls were in italian. after i fumbled through ordering a sapporo, the young woman began questioning me with what i wanted. i had desperately searched for cognates- of course, no such luck.

i fessed up. i don't speak much italian, do you speak english (some of the few italian phrases i do know)?

lucky for me the head chef spoke a decent amount of english. he ran through a couple of the rolls for me.

the japanese beer arrived just as i was beginning to realize that this asian restaurant was playing some classic italian music. the odd observations continued as i looked over at the bar to see what else but an espresso machine.

my first plates of sushi arrived. although they were good, i was a bit disappointed. the average 'roll' in america comes with six pieces... welp here, it's three.

so after five rolls and my sapporo i was very content. the waitress came over and asked me if i would like a caffe. at this point i just wanted to say, 'really? don't you fuckers drink tea?' i mean who REALLY drinks an espresso after eating the tasty delights of japan? there are not too many other types of food that i think there could be more of a flavor clash.

regardless, i kindly said no thank you (in italian), and went to the cashier to pay. at this point i had a smile from ear to ear. the whole situation was just too funny. the staff was of course smiling back because how often do they get to watch an american stuff his face with plate after plate of sushi.

i finished up the evening with a delicious gelato on the way back to my car (i know i was just whining about mixing of the cultures... but, if you've had italian ice cream, you understand why i couldn't resist).

to give the short version: first sushi experience in italy - no where close to nyc sushi but a great reminder of the things i enjoy so much in life.