So when I did a workshop on "How to Roll Your Own Sushi" at last year's RG, it seemed like a good idea to work with John and do an "El Diablo Sushi Bar." The winning entry was made by Ruth Ancona, costume maker of the Creative Mischief SIG, and contained sauerkraut, fresh peach slices, and fruit jelly. It wasn't bad. A bit sweet perhaps, possibly in need of more sauerkraut. I made Spam sushi rolls, then learned a few months later that Japanese Americans actually do this too. I even had one, gift of a coworker's mother, and it tasted much better than the ones I made. Life really does imitate art.
I was not sure if I wanted to repeat this event, but several people convinced me I needed to do it again this year. I got really brave this year and bought a jar of gefilte fish for the event. I had not been able to buy it last year, because it seemed too disgusting. It still does. Gefilte fish does not belong in a clear glass jar, it belongs in a water-filled porcelain bowl. I have had better cat food. Even peanut butter and chocolate syrup will not make it taste reasonable. God knows I tried.
Ruth won again this year, using homemade plum leather instead of nori for a roll containing pickled okra and peanut butter, topped with tiny black caviar. It was positively awful, especially the okra. Valerie Spear was another winner, with a steak tartare roll. Yes, she used raw beef mixed with onion soup mix, topped with A-1 steak sauce and sliced jalepeno peppers. I like steak tartare, but this was not the same. I was sweating so profusely that the horns of my El Diablo costume fell off.
This year was like last year in that people kept eating the entries. The judge had to grab quickly, and try to save a second piece for the award ceremony later. People are hungry at midnight, and they were actually requesting rolls. Sardines and peanut butter. Deviled ham and baby food. And they were gratefully eating them! It looks like I have to do this next year too.
There were other rolls made with okra, all equally awful. Coming from Michigan, I never had to eat that stuff. In a period of 46 minutes, I ate more okra than I had eaten in my 46 years. And now I am doomed. You may have read the story that made the rounds of local newsletters about the man who hated broccoli. One night his local group threw him a surprise party and served him all sorts of treats made from it -- cookies, ice cream, God knows what else. I have a strange premonition that one night I am going to be presented with more okra than I can possibly imagine. If I don't eat it, others will, because Mensans will eat anything.