Every time I hear those five words I feel like the very fabric of my loins have been struck by a Care Bear’s Countdown. I love it more than a freshly hydrated pack of Sea Monkeys! However, even a daily horoscope columnist can tell you that sustainability and sushi buffets are misaligned polar opposites under Saturn’s third moon. One deals with conservation and the other with mass inhalation of food.
But before you go cutting out those negitoro rolls from your diet completely, let’s examine the psyche behind this phenomenon through some rigorous self-reflection of a typical night at an unnamed sushi buffet.
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Observation #1: Damn it! What the hell is this piece of paper with check boxes and this blunt pencil stolen from the voting booth of the last federal election doing on my table?! Just bring me some California rolls A-SAP, I’m starving!
Observation #2: OK. Johnny, are you sure you want 45 pieces of salmon sashimi? CHECK. Well I feel the same way too, so I’ll take 45 as well… so let’s just make it 90 pieces. Sound good? CHECK!
Observation #3: The food is here! I am going to eat like Subway Jared circa 1985 tonight! *SNAP*… Why is it that every time I split one of these disposable chopsticks open, they never break directly down the line? Oh well, better luck next time. Let’s feast!
Observation #4: Repeat Observation #2 and #3 until you eventually arrive at Observation #5.
Observation #5: OHHHHH. THAT’S IT, I’M DONE! I can’t take it no more! …What?! Another three more plates are on their way? Oh brother, looks like I’m going to have to execute Operation Hide-the-Rice-Ball-In-the-Teapot-and-Sneak-it-Away-Like-the-Trojan-Horse.
Observation #6: I can’t see, and I feel like a beached sea lion under a beached walrus under a beached whale, but I got my money’s worth! Mission accomplished! WERD.
As you can see, the unsustainable aspect of all-you-can-eat sushi boils down to this: people order too much too fast because they always go into the restaurant starving and feel the pressure to get their money’s worth.
I for one, refuse to give up the glorious buffet but believe that if you start out with smaller orders first, you stand less of a chance of wasting food or eating pieces that really add no value to your belly anyway. Think of it like playing strip poker. There is no point throwing down the silk boxers during the first hand if all you really need to win is to re-raise with tube socks. So think about it people—me wearing the silk boxers, that is.