That Dude and Little Big Boss, at 11 and nearly 13, share my weakness for supermarket sushi (don’t judge us!), though they’ve ventured no further than the meekest and mildest of all the options: your standard California Roll. My top picks—Spicy Tuna Rolls and Shrimp Tempura Rolls—don’t exactly qualify me as a maki maven, either. Still, I’m met with solid approval when I arrive home from a Saturday morning grocery run with these rectangular plastic trays of Japanese-inspired goodness. Typically I will buy one package for me and another for TD and LBB to split, as their taste for rolls is rather easily satisfied.
Today was one such supermarket sushi Saturday. They don’t happen every time I go as I tend to shop early on weekends—usually before 8 a.m.—before the day’s selections have even hit the case. But today I didn’t make it out of the house until after 10:30, after “sleeping in” until 7:30, getting some things done around the house, and then waging a protracted battle with TD to get him eat some breakfast. He’s a better human being when he eats properly in the morning, but he doesn’t want to dine with the family anymore. Too much togetherness over the past many months combined with a naturally contrary nature and the pushing of boundaries innate to tweendom. Our chewing annoys him. Our conversations annoy him. Our use of napkins annoys him. He and I are not in a good place.
I am not thinking about this as I approach the sushi case. I am only thinking, “Yay, there is sushi in the case!” and I pick up the usual fare. Big Daddy is not around and TD is upstairs when I arrive home, but LBB helps me unload and is delighted that I have come bearing gifts of fake crab and real avocado. By the point we finish unpacking, lunchtime is upon us. I ever so briefly consider calling TD down, but rationalize that he parlayed breakfast into brunch and probably won’t be hungry yet. And I want to be able to talk to my girl and use my napkin with abandon and not think about how I am chewing lest it trigger an outburst from TD. I want to enjoy my supermarket sushi.
LBB and I eat our lunch in peace, chatting about nothing and everything, mulling whether her blueberry yoghurt is naturally purple (yes), why today’s rolls look a bit different than last time (different chef), and how come I didn’t realize until now—2 weeks into the semester—that she has PE this quarter (jury still out). She eats her allotted half-tray of sushi and eyes the rest longingly. “I have to save these for TD, right?” She knows the drill. She’s surprised when I shoot back, “Nope! Have at it!” She pauses. “Really?” I shrug my shoulders, “Sure. Just eat them because you’re still hungry, not just to spite your brother.” She clarifies, twinkling, “Can I eat some because I am still hungry and some out of spite?” I purse my lips, but my eyes are merry, “Fair play.” She eats two of the remaining five—one for hunger, the other for spite. I ask which one tastes better. “Duh! The spite sushi, of course!” We collapse into giggles for a moment, but I sober quickly. “Leave the rest.” She nods solemnly, knowing as I do that we are crossing a line.
Next supermarket sushi Saturday, I will call TD down for lunch.
Brownie Stew 