Slices of heaven at Kushiro's Washo Market
At every stall, tiny boxes filled with colorful sashimi (thinly-sliced raw seafood) cascaded down the stall’s front.
Their sashimi selections were astounding. While i recognised some common ones like Sake (salmon), Ikura (salmon roe), Hotategai (scallop), Ama-ebi (raw shrimps) and Buri (yellow-tail), there were countless others i’d not seen before or since.
Women wearing head-scarves and aprons bowed and beckoned to passersby. Some bystanders hovered at a safe distance and eyed those who were ordering. There was an odd mix of trepidation and longing in the air.
Seafood Heaven: Kushiro’s Washo Market
The sweetest, freshest sashimi we've ever had
Washo Market looked small and nondescript from the outside. Once inside, we walked past numerous small, greasy-looking restaurants selling cheap ramen and bento sets. If we had given up on Washo Market then, we’d have regretted it forever.
At the centre of the market, we came across an open space filled with tables and foldable chairs. There were people eating from polystyrene bowls and they were all laughing and gesticulating wildly. These people must either be drunk or were really enjoying their food.
Surrounding this area were stalls selling a bewildering array of seafood. Some specialised in huge red lobsters and hairy crabs while others displayed rows upon rows of sliced raw fish.
At one particular stall, a woman, a tourist from Hong Kong by her accent, was pointing hesitantly at some boxes. After she pointed at each box, an Oba-san would grab the box and pour its content into a bowl. Several times, the Japanese woman goaded her timid customer by pointing at some strangely-coloured meats, grinning widely and showing her an enthusiastic thumbs up.
Guinea Pig
My wife finally summoned enough courage to order a small bowl of rice – she would be the guinea pig in this culinary adventure. She carried the bowl of steaming rice from another stall – for some strange reasons, the stalls that sold sashimi don’t sell rice – and walked towards one of the matronly Japanese. The Oba-san gave her a reassuring smile, turned and with a sweep of her hands invited us to take our pick of her delicacies. My wife picked some 10 types of sashimi, some unknown to us, and paid about 1,200 JPY for them. Back home, this would have cost at least 2 times more.
After we settled down at an empty table, my wife scooped some Uni (sea urchin) and dipped them lightly in a condiment of Wasabi (Japanese horseradish) and light soy. She pushed the orange goo into her mouth.
“Oh my god,” she squealed and closed her eyes.” This is delicious!” Her face was positively glowing.
Encouraged, i scooped some of the gooey mess into my mouth and before the first morsel had tumbled down my throat, i’ve leapt from the table and sprinted towards the smiling Oba-san who i’m sure, had known that this moment was coming. I ordered the largest bowl of rice but before i raced back to the table, my wife had finished hers and had scurried back for a second helping – an unheard of phenomenon for my petite wife.
That day, my wife and i made a vow to return to this seafood paradise.
