When Bad Sushi Happens to Good People
reimagining spider rolls plus why your friends hate sushi
Dear Sensei,
I have a confession. The first time I tried sushi in a sushi bar, I gagged. I didn’t just hate it—it made me cry and question my decision to attend sushi school.
When I first decided to become a sushi chef, I told everyone who would listen. No one was spared from hearing about the sushi school in LA I had discovered. Their reactions were mostly laughter, skepticism, or often both. But no amount of head shakes or “Bless your hearts” (Southern for that’s cute how you think that) could sway the visions of sand, palm trees, and perfectly formed sushi dancing in my head.
My dream of becoming a sushi chef had hooked me like a fish on a line, reeling me towards the unknown. Even though I hadn’t saved nearly enough, getting to sushi school felt urgent—like something that couldn’t wait one more second. Calling the school on a whim felt like a leap of faith. But perhaps it was a call of fate because after a brief but friendly conversation, I heard the question: “Would you like to join the next class? It starts in two weeks.” Before I had time to overthink, I heard myself saying yes. This was happening.
Tying up loose ends over the next few days was a blur, but I saved the best task for last—my first sushi bar experience. Until that moment, I had only made sushi based on cookbooks and pure imagination, never having seen or tasted it made by anyone but myself. Inside the sushi bar, so many of the smells felt familiar, like the ones I had created during my own sushi nights. I sat at the counter, so excited that I was finally going to taste what I’d been trying to recreate all this time. I picked a Spider Roll, curious how one might fit an entire fried soft-shell crab inside a sushi roll, and watched the chef make it with quick, precise movements.
It looked amazing and I couldn’t wait for that first bite to hit my tongue. Upon impact, I gagged. It was awful, probably the worst thing I had ever put into my mouth. But it wasn’t just the sushi I couldn’t swallow. I was chewing on the harsh reality that I might be chasing a dream that now felt so wrong, so different from the perfect vision I had built in my mind.
I swiped a napkin across my mouth, discreetly depositing the sushi into it. Hot sake stung my mouth as I tried to burn away the awful flavor. Meanwhile, I pretended to take an incoming call on my cell phone. During my “conversation”, I asked for my check and a takeout box I knew I would never open. I barely made it to the door before the tears that had been welling up started falling freely over my cheeks.
Outside, I tossed the sushi into the garbage can—desperate to rid myself of the terrible taste and lingering doubt it left behind. Was my Southern take on sushi really that much different? Did I actually hate sushi, or was I afraid I didn’t belong in the world I constantly dreamed of? Tears blurred my vision as I drove aimlessly, until I finally stopped outside the Greyhound bus station. I sat for a moment, watching travelers come and go with purpose, wondering how everyone but me seemed to know where they were going—and what it felt like to be so sure. At the ticket counter, handing over a chunk of my last few hundred dollars for a one-way ticket to LA felt like betting everything on a dream I wasn’t even sure I still believed in. I was searching for answers to questions I couldn’t quite put into words. But even then, Sensei, I think part of me knew that the answers wouldn’t begin to reveal themselves until I stepped into your classroom.
Two days later, as the bus doors closed and the wheels began to roll, I leaned against the window and watched the world blur by me. I didn’t know if I was chasing my dream or running away, but I knew one thing: I had to find out. Every mile on that journey revealed to me that pursuing something bigger than myself might always feel uncertain. And Sensei, I didn’t know it then, but your greatest lessons wouldn’t be just about sushi. They would be about rolling with doubt and slicing through fear, and learning that the best way to master anything—including myself—was to keep going.
MUSHROOM SPIDER ROLLS - A FRESH TAKE ON A CLASSIC
Spider Rolls are a popular sushi roll typically made with an entire fried soft-shell crab. The playful name comes from the way the crab's legs spill over both sides of the roll, resembling a spider. Their satisfying crunch makes them a sushi bar favorite. This version replaces the fried crab for bundles of crispy tempura enoki mushrooms paired with faux roe, lettuce, cucumber, and daikon. It’s a playful take on the classic, preserving the textures that make Spider Rolls so iconic, while keeping it approachable for aspiring home sushi chefs.
ASK MARISA ANYTHING
Dear Marisa,
My friends are obsessed with sushi. They raved so much about it, that I let them talk me into trying it. It was not good. I don’t get it...why do people love sushi so much? What am I missing?
-Not Sold on Rolls
Dear Not Sold on Rolls,
Not everyone loves sushi at first bite—and that’s okay! The problem is, many people swear it off forever after one bad experience. But here’s the thing: if you didn’t like sushi, it’s probably not you—it’s probably the sushi. In fact, there are usually 2 main reasons sushi can miss the mark.
First, you might’ve tried the wrong type. Sushi is simply rice dressed with vinegar. I say this because people often think of sushi as rolls. My guess is that your friends had you try their favorite rolls. While this seems like a good intro, I find that most people who don’t love sushi on their first try actually don’t like the nori (seaweed). When I introduce someone to sushi for the first time, I don’t start with rolls. Instead, I focus on other forms like nigiri (toppings over rice), chirashi (a sushi rice bowl), or inari (sweet tofu pouches stuffed with rice). Almost always, they find something they enjoy.
The second reason is something we don’t often talk about—but I’m just gonna say it:
The sushi you tried might’ve simply been bad. Sushi bars, like any other restaurant, can make mistakes with freshness or quality. But so often we let them off the hook (pun intended), assuming they are infallible. Having worked in a few, I can assure you— they are not.
Freshness and balance are everything. If the rice or ingredients aren’t right, it can ruin the entire experience. Case in point: my first sushi bar experience.
So if you’re willing, I hope you’ll give sushi another try. Step outside of rolls. Start with something like a sushi rice bowl and go from there. You might be surprised by what you love.
-Marisa
Curious about sushi or Japanese cuisine? I’m here to spill the (green) tea! Whether it’s demystifying Japanese ingredients or troubleshooting a sushi night gone wrong, ask me anything. No topic is off the table—except maybe mixing wasabi into your soy sauce.
I’m grateful that I never had bad sushi. On another note, I ran to buy one of your books after browsing your Substack! I freaking love sushi 😂