Been a long, long time for me. Not that long since I’ve had raw tuna, but a long time since I’ve had “the devil roll” at that little place in Dallas.
Many years ago, it was place I went with my sister and friends, and we were all, like, high-rolling, Dallas-style. Carefully cut casual clothing that was less than casual. That “affluent but not” look. And that place was, at the time, the only place to get good sushi in Dallas.
Couple of years ago, a Virgo re-introduced me to the place. A little more casual, as befits my Austin roots, and then, I came face-to-face, or face-to-fin-to-chopstick with “the devil roll.” Or, as their menu says, “ultra spicy hot.”
“Kramer, I’ve never seen you cry before,” my date for the evening said.
The guy rolling the rice? He tricked me. It’s a good place for sushi, around the corner from the Apple store, and yellow-tail was acceptable, but the devil roll was outstanding. Still might be outstanding.
Tricky bastard.
The first slice of devil roll was good, but not so hot that I cried. Second slice, same deal. Then I started at the other end because I’d examined the way the sushi roll was constructed. It’s supposed to be eaten in one order, left to right (or right to left, depends on how it’s served), and the thin slices aren’t as loaded with searing hot sauce. Instead of following the prescribed order, I worked backwards, after I realized the trickery. Mastery and trickery. And hot unlike any kind of Mexican-hot heat.
It’s that horseradish – wasabi kind of a hot.
I have seen the light, and I was just short of downing a full glass of water. but tears were coming down my cheeks.
Man enough to take it, and the sushi chef appreciated that I appreciated his mastery. Tricky “cook.”
It also prompted a call to Sister to remind her we’d ‘been there before,” and I was attempting to get her to tell the “Kramer eating sushi story.”
I think this trumps it. Devil Roll. It’s pure heaven.
