You're handed a giant plastic menu. Surely nothing exquisit or fancy of a facad but as you open it up your eyes will brighten. A myriad of all different types of sushi fill the page all which contain their own adventure. As your eyes scroll through countless types of sushi, one catches your eye, a type of tempora. One that is the chef's choice. When the waiter comes and you tell them your desires, you see the chef hard at work behind them. Only hoping that his hard work transfers to your delishous delight requested. After several minutes and a few sips of ice
cold water later you're observing all the waiters as they pass by with various dishes hoping, wishing, wondering is that mine, when is mine. Like an impatient hungry pup you're forced to wait for your treat. Finally a waiter holding high a dish out of sight from your perspective
approaches the table. Like a kid waiting to unwrap a present your eyes and smile light up the room. Almost in a fast manner your waiter lowers the dish insight onto the table as if to say surpirse your long wait was not in vain. You gaze upon your glorious food, the waiter out of mind slips from the scene unnoticed. One on one with the dish you greet. The sushi roll is positioned into a wavey snake like pattern across the long white background of the dish. Next to the slithering role is a green wasabi and a light pink pickled ginger. On opposite ends each tiny mass lay looking like a ying-yang symbol being cut through the middle by a serpent. Cascaded across the top of the snake is an orange mystery you're tempted to try. With closer inspection you discover the orange sauce is more than what it seems. Miniscule spheres like atoms making up a grander picture, they flowed elegantly like a thick curry. The sushi snake like figure itself is dark green from the seaweed but its rigded from being fried. There's traces of white rice hiding behind the protection of the seaweed. Accompanying the white of rice stands a deep red. One that is so subtle it is hardly noticeable, an undertone in contrast with the popping orange. Below the wicked roll are drops of soy like after a samidare. A tiny puddle accumulated under sticks to the beast above. To uncover the mystery of what else may be behind the armor you use your bamboo sticks to pick up a conveniently sliced piece from the front and plop it into your mouth. An explosion of flavor bursts into existance, something almost undescribable comes about. The saltyness from the soy mixed with the sweet from the orange colored sauce clash on an earthy seaweed battlefield. The rice sneakily complementing the mild flavor of the tuna. All coming together in an epic battle inside your mouth. In one bite the clash starts and stops after a swallow leaving only the salty aftermath of the soy. Yearning for more you let your tonuge be the area of war a 38th parralel. With each bite the flavors trade blows, the buds of your mouth deciding the
victor of each battle, the saltyness or the sweetness. But resolutes in only happiness of the consumer, not caring which side won what battle. Just happy that they survived the blast of taste from each whole bite. After many battles were fought the war is finally over. Left on the white
canvas on which the food originated is a mixture of soy and the orange beady sauce. Untouched lay the wasabi and the ginger now sticking out like mesas in the plains. Daringly you take a piece of the pickled ginger and raise it eye level for closer look. Like a wet, oversaturated, pink rose petal it droops from your sticks looking innocent and fragile. Slowly bringing it closer to your mouth just under your nose you inhale. Your investigations tell you of a tangy sensation waiting to come. Assured of extravagant flavor you place the petal on your tongue and close your mouth.

Almost a slight burning from the ginger taste singe your mouth as you reposition the petal under your molars. And with a crunch energy is released, an energy so tangy and powerful it spreads through the mouth wiping away any traces of the salty flavor. You quickly swallow for you were too overcome by flavor from one tiny petal. Indicating that it was the finale, the fireworks after the show. You place your bamboo sticks down, wipe your mouth and grin while you wait for a check to come.