The Sushi Paradox: Why I Hate Raw Fish But Insist You Visit Asahikawa for the Best

S sushi chef is making and serving sushi, and a customer is enjoying them on the other side of the sushi counter.
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The paradox of progress: The everyday sushi

Sushi and sashimi are iconic Japanese specialty foods, and I believe they are definitely what many overseas visitors look forward to eating. How often do you think Japanese people consume these foods? One recent survey suggests about 60% of us eat sushi at least once a month.

Me? Much less than that, because I honestly don’t like sushi very much. I’d rather splurge on a high-class sushi restaurant once a year than endure a cheap conveyor belt sushi joint once a month. This preference reflects the original identity of sushi: it was historically a special meal for a special day.

I often wonder: Do we truly get happier by improving our standard of living to the point where the sublime becomes routine? Perhaps the greatest price we pay for affluence is the quiet loss of the sublime—that sense of profound, once-a-year wonder.

The great mystery: Why I hate raw fish but love fishing

To be more precise, I genuinely dislike the smell of raw fish, despite being an avid fisherman. Funnily enough, I spend a lot of time waiting for fish to bite while thinking over how to take the fish off the hook without touching it.

This demonstrates how complicated people’s likes and dislikes are—the boundary between them is always obscured. As I’ve written before, we ourselves can’t truly explain our preferences; we can only eventually conclude, “We like it because we like it.” And yet, marketers around the world continue their daily, seemingly futile effort to solve this great mystery.

Recently, I found a scientific article introducing an experiment that reveals how our taste changes at the level of synapses. Have we solved the mystery at last? Not really. We still don’t know what triggers the electrical signals that drive our synapses. For now, I must conclude again that we should try not to obsess over our elusive and bias-ridden personal tastes.

The bountiful sea: The logic of Hokkaido’s fishing grounds

If there is no new scientific discovery and I’m merely restating my personal aversion to raw fish, why am I writing this article today?

Simple: I want to introduce the excellent sushi available right here in my hometown, Asahikawa. Hokkaido is famous for delicious seafood because it is surrounded by the sea. Furthermore, the sea is uniquely bountiful because it features areas where the warm Black Current meets the cold Kurile Current. This collision of currents cultivates vast amounts of plankton, making these collision zones excellent fishing grounds.

The logistical loophole: Why the best sushi is inland

Now, here is the counter-intuitive part. You may think it is natural that Asahikawa has high-quality sushi. But people who know the exact location of Asahikawa are often surprised: the city is located in the very middle of Hokkaido, surrounded by mountains, far away from the sea.

However, the situation is actually very logical. Good seafood—the quality worth the transportation costs—doesn’t just sit on the coast. The best catches are sent to the larger consuming areas, and they gather at the central distribution base of Hokkaido, which happens to be Asahikawa.

The fish are too good to stay by the sea.

So, despite my personal, complex, and scientifically inexplicable dislike of raw fish, I can confidently tell you: If you want to eat truly delicious, high-quality sushi in Japan, please come here to Asahikawa! (I’ll order the cooked egg sushi.)

Asahikawa city with Taisetsu-zan, the Hokkaido-highest mountains in the back

A corporate logo, the letters of C and H are combined to look like a tree in a circle

Shungo Ijima

He is travelling around the world. His passion is to explain Japan to the world, from the unique viewpoint accumulated through his career: overseas posting, MBA holder, former official of the Ministry of Finance.


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