Cimarusti even took the time to teach me how to properly slice sashimi.
We headed to the fish box, where Cimarusti showed me a gorgeous wild Japanese Tai snapper shipped straight from Tokyo. After throwing on some Grateful Dead (live concert albums only, according to Cimarusti) on the speaker, it was time to get slicing.
I attempted to follow Cimarusti’s direction, placing my hand at the heel of the knife. But as I drew the knife back, I could immediately see I had screwed up.
“No, no, see — you’re mushing,” Cimarusti told me.
“Butchering, whether it’s meat or fish, it’s not a skill that comes easily,” Cimarusti assured me. “You really need, like, years and years of practice. Even a month ago, I wasn’t as good.”
If at first you don’t succeed, slice and slice again. I picked up the knife, and Cimarusti demonstrated the proper technique and finger placement again. I drew the knife back, reminding myself to let the blade do all the work, and voila! A thin, translucent slice of sashimi appeared.
“Pretty good,” Cimarusti told me, taking the slice and placing it with the others. “Somebody’s going to eat that tonight.”
I couldn’t help but do a little victory dance. Someone was going to eat a piece of sashimi I sliced at a two-star Michelin restaurant! Is this how Gordon Ramsay feels every night?