For the first time in my life, about 16 years ago in San Francisco, a friend persuaded me to eat slices of raw fish splayed over a white rice ball, in soy sauce, and with lots of wasabi mortared around the piece.
I had always recoiled at the idea of eating uncooked fish. Yet in spite of irrational culinary preconceptions and fear of the unknown, what I had previously thought “yucky” turned out to be my absolutely favorite thing to eat.
“Open thy mind, Grasshopper.”
So when I found out recently (and much belatedly) that the Rice Bowl was serving Japanese food in addition to Chinese, we of the Cult of Sushi answered the siren call and were pleasantly rewarded.