I hosted a sushi party specifically for the Americans, primarily for my employer and his family, and naturally invited many from work. I had previously asked my employer if he wanted to know the whole process of making Japanese rolls, and he mumbled something vague: 'Well, if you can do it well, etc.' I don't understand how he read my resume if he didn't see that I worked in a Japanese restaurant for four months and this is a piece of cake for me. In total, for three days in a row, I walked to the supermarket because my car wasn't running at the time. I spent about $150 in total. It was a long walk, but for some reason, I wasn't lazy. The reason for this, apparently, was the ocean, its magnificence, the sunset spreading like a fire, and amazingly beautiful clouds. Also, a leafless birch tree with a sign in front of it saying 'dead end'—I really wanted to take a photo, but I didn't have any equipment at that moment.
The day X arrived. I woke up very early. It was no laughing matter; there were a lot of preparations. I got to work, simultaneously adding the finishing touches to the cleaning. By the time they arrived, I had done a lot. The first portions of rolls and rice noodles according to a special recipe were ready. They brought pumpkin beer—I'll tell you about the pumpkin madness separately later, it's like insanity. I treated them to the two dishes mentioned above, and the drink was mojito; they were delighted with my skills, probably because one portion in a restaurant costs about $30. In the end, there were 6 people, including two children. They didn't really eat much. But everyone tried to roll a roll themselves and even cut it once; after that, I performed the knife manipulations, they recreated their own recipe, and they liked it. Everything was accompanied by loud Russian: 'Na zdorovye!' I didn't teach them that; they knew it themselves. It turned out that Susan's grandparents were Belarusian, and she knew what 'dog' was in Russian. The next day, I woke up very early, prepared about seven portions for work, not forgetting to leave some for myself for the evening. At work, there were ovations and so on again. I was named sous-chef; it's pleasant.
Why Japanese culture specifically? Because I taught them how to do all this at home, and besides, I told them what everything is called in Japanese, I mean the products.
P.S. I forgot to add to the article about my first day at work: I heard enough apologies that day for my entire previous life and for years to come, and that's the truth.
