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Food to Die For
Finalist Melbourne Food & Wine Festival Young Writer Competition
Lawrence Frawley Year 10 Camberwell Grammar
“The Best Meal I Ever Had - Food to Die For”
Shogun was a wonderful restaurant, one that I frequented on a regular basis. For variety it was a restaurant unsurpassed by any other, one could be guaranteed something unique, tasty and succulent each and every time. I had, in my role as a food critic over the past twelve months made my way through the expansive menu on offer as well as partaking of numerous "chefs specials." However, until this evening I had never tried one particular item that was listed under "regional specialities," Fugu. For the uninitiated, Fugu is the Japanese name for varieties of deadly puffer fish that have been popular in Japan for centuries. Popular as a result of its danger. Unless prepared correctly, Fugu can kill a man instantly, being more poisonous even than cyanide. However, my jaded palate now desired some excitement - would I survive this meal or not? Would my editor lament my passing if I didn't survive? Would my readers care? All these thoughts wandered through my mind as I contemplated the menu.
My thoughts must have been evident on my face as I was approached, not by a waiter, but by the Manager of the restaurant himself. In hushed tones he asked me what my pleasure would be this evening. There was almost an audible silence around us as I turned to tell the Manager of my decision. "I'd like to try the Fugu," I said. The Manager drew in his breath sharply and his voice quivered with compressed excitement as he replied that it would be his honour to convey my request to the chef. With a snap of his fingers, staff came running, my table was re-set and instantly became the centre of focus for the whole restaurant. The Manager disappeared to convey my order to the chef. Within minutes, the chef himself came out followed respectfully by his minions and the Manager. Bowing low before my table, he assured me that he was Japans foremost expert in the art of Fugu preparation, and further reassuring me that if the Emperor were allowed to partake of Fugu, then he, Mizo Shenagawa, would be the only Chef allowed to prepare it for royal consumption. The chef and his entourage then bowed again and made their way back to the kitchens to begin the preparations for this momentous meal.
The Manager hovered next to me and advised that due to the delicate nature of preparation required for the Fugu, that there would be some delay, but that the wait would be worth every second. In the meantime, I was to sit back, relax and enjoy the superb hospitality of the establishment and begin the process of cleansing my palate in readiness for the most significant meal of my life. The wait was almost surreal, the ripple of comment and exclamation around the room was audible and as I sipped a delicate Japanese tea my thoughts were in a whirl. There was a serious risk involved with this. It was well documented that over 100 people a year in Japan alone had died after eating Fugu. Did I have a death wish? Or had I become so inured to the pleasures of the palate that only the risk of death would spice up my enjoyment now?
A collective gasp ran around the room when eventually the Manager himself came out bearing the first part of my culinary experience with great flourish. The fins, Delicately fried with a subtle Sake flavoured dipping sauce. This I recollected was not the most hazardous part of the meal. The entire restaurant waited with baited breath as I took my first mouthful, the collective sigh of relief almost perceptible when I swallowed the final piece. I nodded in solemn approval. More tea was put before me to once again cleanse my palate in readiness for the next course. The chef, I was advised by the Manager, was removing the spines and skin of the puffer fish in readiness to prepare Sashimi for the next course. He had already carefully removed the internal organs of the fish, taking particular care with the liver.
Finally, the moment had come. The chef himself came out bearing my Fugu sashimi dish. He reverently placed the meal before me and invited me to experience the sublime pleasure that he promised awaited me. The room was deathly silent as I lifted the first portion to my mouth. Deathly silent? What was I thinking? Silent, but not deathly silent, I almost giggled hysterically at my wayward thoughts. Suddenly, I was transported by the subtle almost indescribable sensation that assailed my taste buds, absolutely sublime, I shuddered in pleasure. My audience too shuddered along with me, apprehensively or in transferred appreciation of my pleasure I wasn't sure. I didn't care. All of a sudden I understood the fascination of avid food connoisseurs with this fish. Fatal or not, to forgo this particular pleasure would be to relinquish one's claim as a true connoisseur of fine food. As I savoured the tastes and sensations of this divinely devilish meal, I reflected that this was indeed food to die for.
What the judges said:
A budding Jeffrey Steingarten who manages to weave good information throughout his amusing story. Very good story construction & development.
Very clever. Well written. Great story. Engaging writing, with a clever ending.
Great story, well constructed and informative.
Well constructed and researched – but left me a bit cold/bland.
Has he been reading Anthony Bourdain? Very clever but we are left wondering exactly what it was that was so amazing about this meal. He brought us to the edge but didn’t quite deliver.