Breaching Sashimi Borders

I took a stool at Daruma restaurant, where the scene has been rather quiet the past several visits. I told Masa I was hungry and wanted something “bigger” than my usual meal of kawaebi, the Japanese equivalent of popcorn shrimp. She knew just the thing, and yelled something at the cook, who greased up an already greasy iron pan.

As I awaited the mystery meal, a salaryman on the adjacent stool startled me by striking up a conversation. It was the standard where was I from and where did I live now. He picked at a plate of sliced fish the color of blood. “Do you like kujira?” he asked. I like all types of raw fish, but this looked a little too raw for my taste.

Kitchen hand Nao came over to translate by pictograph. My eyes lit up. This wasn’t just any fish. It was whale. It’s only on the menu of two countries – Japan and Norway – that haven’t banned the practice despite international pressure.

“Some foreigners think it’s rude for Japanese to eat,” the man said, sliding a piece onto my plate. I was surprised to see it served at a hole-in-the-wall like Daruma. Whale is expensive, and its consumption on the decline. It’s now considered a delicacy instead of an entrée at school lunch, which remains a childhood memory one art teacher would rather forget.

The blood-red chunks didn’t look appetizing. Unlike smooth slices of tuna, whale looked more fleshy than fishy. It didn’t dissolve inside my mouth like tuna either. I couldn’t spit it out in front of everyone, and kept chewing until the lump felt masticated enough to wash down with beer.

Squid eyes. Whale. What’s next to cross my lips? Sakana no me. Stay tuned for Fishy Business Part 3.