As a gastronomical expert I am often asked “What is a gastronomical expert?” I usually respond, “It is someone who has become an expert in being a gastronome.” Some people ask to see my credentials, but I usually silence any critic after I tell them that I’ve been customer of the year seven times at “Honest Pedro’s Tacos’”. And if that’s not enough, telling them that I have a blog dedicated to the culinary arts usually is. But that’s enough about me. In this essay I would like to give a clear unbiased history of Sushi and Sashimi (which are exactly the same thing and for the rest of this essay will both be referred to as “crap”) and ask the question “why?” You might be thinking “I don’t understand that question. What does he mean by ‘why’?” I would answer that I’m trying to focus on writing, so I would appreciate it if you would withhold all comments and questions ‘till I have finished the essay.
Crap, contrary to popular opinion, has not been around for thousands of years. In fact, as far as foods go, it is a relatively young dish and has only been in existence for about two centuries. It is also commonly believed among the masses that it is a traditional dish in Asian cultures, but once again, that is a lie. To find the true origin of crap we have to take a step back in time to 1776. It was July fourth of that historic year and on one side of the globe several very important men had just signed a piece of paper saying that they would never pay taxes on tea again (poor fools). On the other side of the planet, several other very important men had just signed a piece of paper saying “Get well soon mom!” These same men then put the paper in an envelope, sealed it with hot wax, and finally stamped the wax with the image of a samurai playing the viola. Because of the date and image of the samurai, you may have deduced that we are now located in central China and the men are none other than Emperor Kung Poa Beef and his two sons Bejing Beef, and Broccoli Beef. After sending the letter away with a servant, Emperor Beef was the first to speak, “Alright,” he said “How long did they say it would take?”
“They said thirty minutes for delivery and twenty for carryout,” Broccoli Beef responded. “So thirty minutes?” Emperor Beef asked.
“No I ordered for carryout so it would get here quicker.” Broccoli Beef replied, evidently proud of himself. Emperor Beef stared at his son for several moments before responding slowly, as if he was having difficulty controlling himself. “You idiot, if you order for carryout you have to pick the pizza up! I told you to order for delivery because the game starts in fifteen minutes, and someone broke the tivo box. “Do you remember who broke the tivo box?”
“I did” replied a downcast Broccoli
“I thought you would remember. Remind me, how was it broken again?”
“I thought it was a dinner tray.” “Yes, and you spilled hot chocolate all over it. Who needs a dinner tray for hot chocolate?! (Emperor Beefs voice was rising to a frenzy now) And who spills hot chocolate even when they have a tray for it?!” He screamed.
“It was really hot.” Broccolis’ responded
“Yes of course it was hot!” shrieked his father “It’s called hot chocolate because it’s supposed to be hot!”
“I’m sorry” said Broccoli, who was pouting, “I said I would buy you a new one.”
“Yes you did, but let me ask, with what money will you be buying this?”
“With my allowance.”
“Yes, and where do you get your allowance?”
“From you.”
“So you’re going to buy me a new tivo box with my money?! How kind of you! I’m sorry I haven’t been more grateful!”
“You’re welcome” replied Broccoli (who didn’t understand his father’s sarcasm).
After several minutes of silence in which Emperor Beefs’ face turned various shades of red and purple and he seemed barely able to control his hands which kept reaching in his son’s direction and making grasping motions in the air. He finally calmed down enough to say “Ok Beijing, why don’t you go call and change our order to delivery, and Broccoli why don’t you sit down somewhere and try not to say anything.” His orders were promptly obeyed, and the happy family was soon seated around the TV eating cheap pizza and watching the baseball game.
While the Beef family enjoys some father son time I will give a little background on its members. Emperor Beef was a pudgy middle-aged man who was going through a mid-life crisis which, as fast cars had not yet been invented and his wife would not let him buy a motorcycle, manifested itself in a large mustache.
Beijing Beef was the oldest son of the Emperor, and therefore the heir to the throne of Beef. He was a bright young man, an exchange student at Oxford university, with a promising career in computer science. If computer science failed him, he also had degrees in Law, Molecular Biology, Anthropology, Psychology, and was taking tap dancing lessons. Like I said, he was a bright young man. It seems, however, that he was given so much brains that when his brother got to the checkout stand, there were no more in stock.
Broccoli Beef was 17 years old, still in the third grade (which didn’t bother him because what he lacked in brains he made up for in self-esteem), and was constantly plotting to kill his father and become Emperor. It seems his ego was so big that he never thought that his brother might be his father’s successor. So far, all of his attempts at murder had been unsuccessful, but he blamed that on his father’s good luck. His first plot had been to drown the Emperor, so he placed lawn chairs in unconventional positions all around the royal pool and waited for Kung Poa to trip over one and fall to a watery death. He watched in anticipation as his father walked up to the pool, moved one of the chairs aside, and jumped in.
His next scheme was to try and trick Kung Poa into running with scissors which he had been told was dangerous. To accomplish this he was going to give his dad a pair of them and challenge him to a footrace. This would undoubtedly have worked except that he tripped while carrying the scissors to the emperor and fell on them impaling his hand.
No matter how many times he failed, Broccoli Beef never gave up. He tried to kill his father in one way or another almost every single day, which brings us back to the living room. Kung Poa was eating pizza while behind him Broccoli Beef was trying to hide a crescent wrench under the cheese on a slice of pizza. After Broccoli was satisfied that the slice looked normal, he walked up to his father and said “Here’s some more pizza for you.” The emperor took the slice, looked at it, and said “Why is there a wrench in my pizza?”
Broccoli had not prepared for failure and the only thing he could think to say was “There isn’t.”
“You know” replied Kung Poa “this is the worst attempt at killing me you have ever made. What exactly did you expect the wrench to do to me? You’re grounded, not for trying to kill me, but for being an idiot.”
“Its not fair!” shouted Broccoli “You never ground Beijing!”
“Maybe because he’s never put a wrench in my pizza” replied the emperor. “If he wanted to kill me, he would probably just shoot me. Anyway, while I have both you boys here, I was thinking that we need to take advantage of your mother being sick. What’s something we can only do while she’s not here?”
“We could order pizza.” Replied Broccoli “She never lets us do that.”
“I’m not going to respond to that,” responded the emperor “Any other ideas?”
“We could open a small business,” said Beijing, “I have a business model that will earn three percent profits in the first six months.”
“That’s a great idea.” replied Kung Poa “except that, if you haven’t noticed, were already extremely wealthy.”
“I’ve got it!” shouted Broccoli “We could do prank calls!”
“You idiot” said the emperor “phones aren’t going to be invented for another hundred and fifty years. You’re grounded for another six months.”
“I meant prank mail” pouted Broccoli
“Change that to a year.” Replied Kung Poa. “But I like the idea of playing a prank on someone.”
“I’ve been learning about America in my history of civilization class” said Beijing “and apparently most of the people there love to pretend to like food from other countries because it makes them feel cultured. We could do something with that.”
“That’s perfect” said the Emperor “Lets’ make up some kind of horrible food and tell them its our national dish. Any ideas?”
“Potatoes?” suggested Broccoli
“We don’t want to kill them,” said Kung Poa.
“How about raw fish?” asked Beijing.
“That’s an idea” replied his father, “But it needs something more.”
“We could burn down their houses” said Broccoli.
“I was thinking more along the lines of food” replied the emperor, “Like maybe plain unsalted rice. That’s pretty nasty, but it still needs something else.”
“Dirt?” Asked Broccoli.
“Go to your room.” Replied Kung Poa
“I have an idea” said Beijing. “We could wrap the raw fish and unseasoned rice in seaweed.”
“I don’t know,” said the emperor “That sounds a little too disgusting. I don’t think even Americans will fall for that.”
“Trust me,” said Beijing “They will.” And the rest is history.
