I’ve been eating sushi for 10 years, since I first lived near a Wegmans in college. Every time I eat it, it gives me heartburn and puts my stomach off for a day or two. I don’t know if it’s the rawness, the wasabi, whatever. But still, about once a week someone proposes dinner out, and 4 out of 5 times I say “Yes! How about sushi?”

When I first moved to New York, Pong and I used to go out every week to a restaurant on Avenue A that served half-price sushi for its “3 year anniversary.” This “3 year anniversary” special had been going on for a couple of years. Regardless, we would go, stuff our gobs with cheap spicy tuna, then round off the evening with milkshakes from the now-closed NYC Milkshake Company, formerly of St. Mark’s place.

Then he and I would run to the #4 train to the Bronx and the R train to Queens (respectively) and both writhe in digestive agony for the rest of the night. Later we both turned out to be lactose intolerant.

I never figured out if it was the sushi or the milkshake that did it.

The moral is: Sushi is delicious.