upon dining

Sushi came to Corner Brook. Big big news this was, and for the first few weeks the sushi guy at the local Coleman's grocery store was rolling like mad for customers who had to wait upwards of 20 minutes for their prized eats. The sushi wasn't even terribly good, but sushi it was nonetheless. Before this culinary revelation, the only time and place you could get some sushi was at the gracious hands of a party host or on a quick-moving pot-luck plate. My friend Brooke, for instance, was known to "make sushi", and it lent her an air of distinction. People thought that was cool.

Here in Seoul, sushi is almost as mainstream as it's Korean counterpart, Gimbap. California rolls and Gimbap are alleged half-siblings; the ingrediants vary, the concept remains the same: toss some sticky rice on some nori, throw in some ingrediants, and roll it tight.

Tonight I had some 잠 지 김 밮 (jamji gimbap), gimpab with a bit of tuna in it. Not raw tuna, either. Tuna that came out of the can, mixed up with a bit of mayo, straight-up tuna-fish-sandwich style. I watched the ajumma as she made it. Expertly, deftly, with ease, without error. Complete precision. Those skills are hard earned.

I wondered about her life. Kids? Grandkids? Where are you from? What customers do you like? How is your marriage? Why that shirt, where did you buy it? What buses do you take? What are you thinking about?

I lack the imagination to create too much of her life in my mind. Cities are fascinating beasts, immersions of narratives and layers of perspectives as deep as the buildings are high. Seoul, the second time round, is even better than the first. Now there's familiarity and a level of comfort, a foundation for a new surge of living.

As Hamilton Leithauser sings, "It's gonna be a good year"..