So I have mentioned my plan to eat food related to each place I visit. Well, here is what I read just before falling asleep last night (Again, this is from The Sex Lives of Cannibals by J. Maarten Troost–just in case any I-Kiribati are reading this and attribute these sentiments to me…): “It is entirely possible that somewhere on planet Earth there exists a cuisine more unpalatable than that found in Kiribati. I accept this possibility like I accept the possibility of intelligent life elsewhere in the universe. I have never encountered it. I cannot imagine it. I simply accept the possibility that there is a statistical probability of its existence. An eensie-weensie tiny little probability.”
This strikes me as unfair. After all, the author just finished telling us that this is a country the size of the US, but made up of 33 little, and slightly-less-little, atolls scattered about in the ocean that probably provides the vast bulk of fish much of the world eats. Isn’t it possible that even if his cuisine in the atoll located around metaphorical LA is pretty awful, that maybe on the little atoll situated around metaphorical Maine there is some “damn good lobsta?” Even if “you can’t get there from heah?” I’m pretty sure that those Downeast folk in Maine don’t want to be judged based on LA, so is it fair to generalize about what I accept must have been truly awful food on Tarawa to all of Kiribati?
However, to be safe, tonight we will call it Kiribati night at our house while we nosh on some sushi from some nice local Asian Philadelphians whose sushi we have eaten many times before. We will just figure that our fish came a spot around an island where there isn’t a lot of scary stuff also floating. And since we are conveniently Jewish, we will steer clear of the shellfish, which would be the really scary stuff anyhow.