An excerpt from somewhere deep within The Sushi Prophecies
I was in a wheelbarrow when I came to.
I wish I could say that in a good way, like, oh remember that time at the lake we had a few beers, raided the neighbor’s shed and had a wheelbarrow race? No, it was more like, oh remember that time one of my employees accidentally killed another employee in, or with, a urinal, then a phone-booth talked to me, then I watched a man overdose in an alley, then I got bitch-slapped by an immortal girl, head-butted a shrub and woke up in a moving wheelbarrow?
It was more like that.
I pushed through the great doors of Aira’s sushi temple and was transported once more. Some foreign species were squeaking and crooning from worlds away and I looked to the far corners of the space for any trace of audio equipment to match, there was nothing but seemingly endless thick air. The entrance disappeared and I crept inward, up and over a small arched bridge with its hard bamboo planks fastened together somehow. A creek below trickled and swayed over smooth rocks, and the occasional splash from the kissing koi echoed with grace.
“Your face tells of trials,” he said, stopping his work.
“Well, you would be correct in that assumption, I suppose.”
“Are you in need of food and drink to heal your soul and help you on your journey?”
Aira watched as I settled into the seat at the countertop, until there was stillness, and then he spoke.
“There is a ceremony in Japanese culture that I very much admire of their people…”
“Your people?”
Aira continued, “They call this kaiseki, kai for ‘robe’ and seki meaning ‘stone’ from the times of sixteenth century zen monks.”
“While fasting during early morning prayer, they would hold warm stones in their kimonos close to the belly. The stones would act to ward off spirits that would wish to distract and weaken their focus. Those monks were rewarded after prayer with a series of light dishes, and a most beautiful and sacred tea service.”
They call this kaiseki, kai for ‘robe’ and seki meaning ‘stone’ from the times of sixteenth century zen monks.
I noticed then that the warm and distant light through the place was now somehow cooler and new. It was a sunrise.
Aira continued, “This ceremony has since evolved and adapted over the centuries and generations. Coming down from the sacred temples in the mountains into the courts of warriors and nobles, where they would enjoy a much longer service of many small but luxurious courses. Dishes that represented the current season with animal, flower and plant held in high regard.
“The natural world here is praised; mountain, river and sea. This idea is called shun and it represents a synchronization of time, place and the aesthetics of nature’s cycle. It is said that it’s even more important to enjoy the opulence of fresh seasonal ingredients with your eyes than with your mouth and taste. And so, course after course, each one deeply meaningful to the Japanese, each symbolizing part of life that is both spiritual and respectful to the world around us. Everything means something visually. Nothing is out of chance. Each notion leads into the next with natural flow.”
He looked to the tiny sake cup, pondering its simplistic elegance.
“Where good water and humble rice meet, on the bank of the river in Izuma City there climbs a grand shrine called Saka. This is where the Japanese artisans pay homage each year to the deity of Sake. This is where sake was created and shared amongst the gods so long ago.”
I sipped.
There was nothing so sweet that ever touched my mouth, not in this way. The sensation awakened my tongue, provoking a tremble as it went. Lighting a tiny trail of fragrant fire all along its way. I exhaled out of my nose and the sensation was complete, a numbing comfort through all ports of breath.
“This is amazing, where did you get this, the big liquor store on Thurlow Street?”
Aira smiled a little smile, “No, from my good friend, Kusu-no-kami.”
“Hmmmm, cool.”
“Very cool, yes.” He watched me sip again. “You see, sake uplifts something ordinary like rice and gives it power through metamorphosis. Drinking in sake is a ritual purification, bringing men closer to gods. We all need to give control to another once in a while, to be taken on a journey.”
“Where are we going?” I asked, half-joking, but not.
“Where do you want to go?”
An excerpt from somewhere deep within The Sushi Prophecies