You awoke that morning with the lofty goal of making your own sushi.  It would be veggie sushi with some of that chile-crusted tofu you needed to finish.  And no rice.  Rice is overrated. You would get the supplies today and figure out how to make that perfect little meal at home--cool, refreshing, healthy, just what your body wants during the hot days of summer.

It would be so simple; you'd watched plenty of youtube videos and looked up countless recipes for a good rice-less sushi roll on Pinterest (because really, isn't a good sushi roll all about the fresh slice of avocado, the crisp bite of carrots, the heat of wasabi invading your nose?).

So you got your bamboo sushi mat and even some chopsticks.  You roasted some edamame for an appetizer and even mixed a bowl of soy sauce and wasabi for your roll.  You prepped your vegetables, thinly slicing avocado, radishes, carrots, and then did the same to your spicy tofu.  Now there was nothing left to do but assemble your sushi roll.  Gently, you placed a crispy seaweed square onto your bamboo mat. You laid out your fillings atop that, careful to leave room around the edges of the seaweed for easier rolling--a tip you picked up from those how-to videos. 

You began to roll your creation; soon it was a tangle of loose carrot strands and tofu that wouldn't quite stay in place, little cracks on the seaweed as you attempted to make a tighter roll.  It was all you could do to finish the process, wrapping that one naked strip of seaweed around your creation, sealing it with water--afraid to let go, lest your grip was the only thing keeping your roll more-or-less together. 

There it sits, your first attempt at making sushi.  It is not particularly lovely, nor the graceful tight roll you had envisioned that morning.  But it is yours.  You made it.  You tried something new.  So with the happy resolve of someone determined to master this new kitchen project--already taking notes on how to better make sushi next time--you slice your roll, not caring that carrots stick out at each end or that the filling doesn't quite want to stay in.  It is delicious in its messiness, perfect in its embodiment your fearless kitchen experiments, your constant thirst for new ways of experiencing nourishment.