I had Sushi (technically Sashimi) and a number of other things on Tuesday, at Sushi Man. I believe it was the Monk Fish liver that severely put me out of commission, because something seemed off about it. The dish is called Ankimo. It is supposed to be steamed. Maybe their idea of steaming a Monk Fish liver is to blow on it a bit and hope whatever deadly pathogens exist on it will keel over and die. It hit me 7 hours later. I had to go to the emergency room. They rigged me up to an IV and put me in this freezing fucking room for what seemed like 3 hours. I am sure that these crazy medical people had the air conditioning on. These people are insane, although I do commend the Newton-Wellesley Hospital people for bringing me back from the dead.
I can't go back to Sushi Man anymore. Not after nearly meeting my maker. But the thing is, I loved Sushi Man. It gave my existence purpose. Now I am back to dealing with the existential dilemma of life.
I mean, Jesus Christ, is it so hard to find good Japanese food in the Boston area that doesn't fucking kill ya?
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