Sushi 101

“Uh-oh, they’re escaping,” frets Amanda, as errant rice grains mar the surface of the sushi roll she’s making. “Moisten your hands, it prevents sticking,” instructs teacher Brian Saito. Demonstrating, he dips his fingers into water, then claps his hands to remove any excess.

It’s Saturday morning at the California Sushi Academy’s  one-day basics class. Six of us sit around a huge stainless steel table cluttered with knives, cucumbers and avocados. By our session’s end, we will have produced a display of maki—sushi rolls that include an ura maki with rice on the outside, a spicy tuna hand roll and a rainbow roll topped with assorted fish. Some of us will have sneakily eaten evidence of failed attempts. But along the way we discover scores of tips to make our work seem almost professional.

First, Saito warms up the group, asking why we came. “My homemade rolls were ugly,” Joan admits. “Sushi can get pricey at more than $60 a meal,” says Tony.

Sushi making began more than 1,000 years ago as a technique for pickling fish using vinegared rice—thus the name su (vinegar) shi (rice). Preparing the rice involves a meticulous ritual. Proper washing followed by slight undercooking allows an even absorption of shari-zu, a seasoned vinegar flavoring. Gently blending hot rice with shari-zu in a cedar tub, Saito fans the mixture constantly until it cools and each grain glistens. Although electric fans are used today, little else has changed over centuries.

Practicing our knife skills involves peeling off a cucumber’s skin in one piece with a seesawing motion of the blade. The class assistant demonstrates, effortlessly unfurling a perfect sheet of green. He admits to practicing several hours a day. “Use your thumb to feel the width of the cut,” he advises. The missed spots of skin on my cucumber give it a leopard print look. Although I somehow feel it’s cheating, I correct the problem with a vegetable peeler.

We are coached on the “tap and push” method of using our fingertips to spread rice smoothly over a sheet of crisp nori (seaweed). Suddenly the rolls look sleeker than our initial attempts. We tidy up the shape using maki-su (bamboo mats). When avocado escapes from one end of my roll, I secretly stuff it back inside, remembering the story of the late, great Julia Child accidentally flipping a potato pancake onto the table, then returning it to the skillet with a cheery, “Remember, you are alone in the kitchen and nobody can see you.”

As I survey my progress from bulgy lumps to smooth, colorful rolls, I’m seduced by the challenge of attaining perfection. All I need is the advanced one-day class.

 Linda Burum often shares sushi breakfasts with her cat Meow.

To Be a Chef

You, too, can become a sushi artisan at the California Sushi Academy, located in coastal Venice, on the outskirts of Los Angeles. Take the two and a half hour, one-day class offered every Saturday for $80.