Schlocky Maki, (Not Quite) Saved by Seaweed

Are you sensing a theme this week?

Maybe I'm distracted, maybe I'm drunk... whatever the case, I most certainly am not cooking for Margy, and this troubles me. What you see here are the remnants of takeout sushi, which I had when I got home (late) after my last day at work. It was a weird day, and a crappy dinner. I don't expect magic when I bring sushi home -- sushi should be eaten the moment the chef finishes massaging it into shape -- but this was even worse than usual. Enormous pieces, sub-par cuts of fish, and rice that was so gummy it could have doubled as rice pudding. I didn't even finish it. Of the dozens and dozens and dozens of times I've had sushi, one of my favorite eats, I could count the meals I haven't finished on one hand.

What you see here, the seaweed salad (next to a big tub of pickled ginger), was the best part. Margy, who dared to go out with her friends on my last day at the office, had stolen the camera, so the sushi itself shall remain just a bad memory.