Day 27 brings the challenge of writing a poem based on some conception pertinent to ‘taste’ and it’s impression that it has made on our lives in some manner.  After a lot of swirling around in the chaos of my mind, I settled on writing about sushi.  But, not just any sushi…

A Taste of Tokyo
by Michael Romani

So much of our lives are spent at the table
Absorbing good tastes and textures when we're able
But Tokyo prefecture is maybe too far from my home
A kaleidoscope of lights and flavors never alone
Tossed in a colorful sense of beautiful madness
Lost within in just a trace of Blade Runner sadness

A psychedelic assault coming hard on the senses
In a Japanese invasion that evades my defenses
There is an amazing contrast of textures
Filled in high end sushi's embodied conjecture
That the sashimi slice thinly and filling my plate
Will have that spicy hint of Wasabi that I anticipate

High end sushi requires the purest of presentations
There in the Ginza District, the best of the gourmand nation
It all begins early down at the fish market daily
Spread out in its splendid array, dressed in its choreography
This dance of early morning life is one of shopping
That leads to the dinner created by slicing and chopping

There is something almost quietly mystic about the eel
It's the Viagra of the sea with just the right feel
Each of these is hand selected while still alive
Bought and sold with octopi that fight to survive
With their tangle of tentacles clinging to the tanks
Seafood that is valued with rich praise and thanks

Next to be purchased is the fatty tuna toro
The best of which offers a succulent flavor we all know
With its rippling belly fat offering the flavor
That we all anticipate that tonight we will savor
Each evaluated and debated in savory anticipation
This is the stuff of a gourmand's fascination

Kamaruku has its rice wine tangy victory
Which on a cellular level the chef feels its intimacy
And the octopus's honor gives it a bit of solace
That its abundance will end as something more than surplus
Salted and tenderized under the blows of a rubber mallet
Offered in its freshness here and you can taste and smell it

Slices of this fatty yellow tail come off so proprietary
With a sense of lustful taste that goes beyond dietary
The cheaper grade slices are slipped into a marinade
While the more pristine cuts are served ready made
The meal as prepared is now ready to be serve
A ice glazed glass of sake provides its own verve

Slowly braised octopus is simmered up really tender
As an appetizer with plum sauce to which we surrender
While the main course is hand melded together
Fresh fish, red wine vinegar rice and Wasabi are better
Served with graceful movement and palatable economy
Of artful morsels of high end sushi inspired cosmogony

A plate filled with more morsels that are to live for
Or, maybe to die for, if only you didn't want more
This leaves the notorious glaze of pure pleasure
Gastronomic treats each tasting like heavenly treasure
A final pouring of sake gave in honor of thee
A chef's hat off to this sensei symbolically

In a church like stupor of gastric theology
Food like this has its own special spirituality
No nonsense, nothing fake, all real in every bite
Served with sake again, crystal clean and light
It brings an ice cold chill filter to the brain
With the thought it takes twelve long years to train

Once realized, there is a relaxed sense of attitude
A sort of reverence and a gracious sort of latitude
Western fast food and fast pace has become a rat race
And in old Tokyo, it has no appeal or sense of place
In opposition to the bulk and volume of superficiality
It's unilateral check begs for a return to integrity

(c) April 27, 2017 Michael Romani