As I get older and find myself able to do the things I've always wanted, I've found time after time that there's probably a good reason I never did them.
I'm a pretty good cook. I've taken many classes and I can make a pretty fantastic meal. I can bbq, grill, and even bake pretty damn well.
It's always funny when you're arrogant mindset beats you about the head and shoulders until your little more than a bloody piece of meat lying in the road getting reapeatedly run over.
I got this big idea today that I was going to start making sushi. I imagined myself making these beautifully plated creations rivaling the top chefs in their craft. I spent over $150 on a rice cooker and supplies and another $75 on shrimp, lobster, veggies and other stuff I thought I would incorporate into what I imagined would be mouth watering nuggets of goodness.
Well...it's all over. My kitchen has rice stuck in every corner, the floor, my hair, and other places. My rolls weren't rolls at all, but things that looked more like gym socks stuffed with golf balls... and pretty much tasted like it looked.
So now, I'm about to head out with the girls to Hiro's down the road and order some fabulous sushi. I've come to understand that this is far beyond not only my current abilities, but lightyears beyond my tolerance and patience. I've learned that sushi is an art and I should have realized that I can't even paint by numbers.
I'm off to the sushi bar. Konichiwa *****es!
(okay that didn't make sense, but seemed funny to me)
