Sushi Secrets. Marisa Baggett
Japanese sushi as a whole due to a series of historical accidents. Little known to us, one of those accidents was caused by the United States. In the late 1940s a group of American bureaucrats working in Tokyo issued a decree that accidentally caused Edomae-zushi to become the de facto official sushi of all of Japan.
Even with this American twist, sushi almost never made it to America. In Los Angeles, a Japanese food importer finally succeeded in bringing sushi to these shores, but he almost gave up before he started, convinced that Americans would never touch the stuff. It was only after he’d failed at importing an assortment of other East Asian delicacies (among them, it is said, chocolate covered ants and snake meat) that he reconsidered and gave sushi a shot.
As sushi finally took root in the U.S. its natural evolution continued, and it blossomed. Japanese chefs experimented in their efforts to reach the American diner, creating new kinds of rolls that caught on, the first of which has attained lasting fame as the California Roll. The fact that rolls became so popular here seems appropriate, since the first sushi roll recipe back in Japan appears to have been published in 1776, the year of the American Revolution.
Today, sushi has become so widespread in America and has been adapted so completely to American tastes that it has literally become an American meal—many of us need look no further than our supermarket or even the baseball stadium to buy a box of sushi. Sushi-making ingredients and tools for the amateur at home have become ubiquitous, too.
Along with all this, one of the more welcome developments on the culinary scene in recent years has been the rise of a new generation of talented sushi chefs who are rising to mastery of the myriad forms of this ancient cuisine—and who maintain great respect for its traditions—despite not necessarily having roots in Japan or even Asia themselves.
These sushi chefs have ethnic and cultural backgrounds that span the globe, yet their passion for both classical and modern forms of sushi inspires them towards a deep dedication to the Japanese spirit of the food, even as they continue to improvise on the basic recipe of seasoned rice. And very happily for the rest of us, these chefs, perhaps more so even than their esteemed Japanese predecessors, are uniquely placed to be cross-cultural ambassadors of the cuisine, completely fluent as they are both in our American habits of dining and the Japanese heritage they practice every day behind the American sushi bar.
Which returns us to the question: Who is Marisa Baggett?
Long before I met Marisa I’d heard about her from Japanese-American sushi-industry insiders in Los Angeles, whose job it is to watch for new trends and up-and-coming chefs in the American sushi business. Marisa was special, they said—but, they added, you won’t find her in L.A., or New York. When I finally tracked Marisa down, it was where she was living and working in Memphis, Tennessee, not far from Mississippi where she was born and raised.
Before encountering Marisa in person, I spent a few hours on the phone with her, which convinced me she was the real deal—a sushi perfectionist dedicated to the old-school spirit of Japan, even as she improvised using her own unique inflection of American traditions. As Marisa herself had aptly put it to me, what made sushi authentic at the end of the day was a foundation of respectful technique, augmented by seasonal ingredients that captured regional flavors, prepared with the utmost care, and served with a personal touch to the customer at the sushi bar. I work closely in Manhattan with a classically trained Edomaezushi chef from Japan who’s been crafting sushi for three decades, and that pretty much captures his philosophy, too. But I still wanted to see for myself. When I finally had the chance to fly down south and experience Marisa and her sushi in person, I encountered a chef with the presence of a Zen master. Moving meditatively before her cutting board and ingredients, wielding her meticulously polished blade and other traditional implements, Marisa exuded a focus and reverence that was impressive even when compared to the many Japanese chefs I’ve encountered both in and outside of Japan. At the same time, Marisa’s elegant sushi had a distinctly American spirit, with whimsical touches that paid tribute to her own heritage.
Sushi will continue to evolve, and its future no doubt lies down many different paths. Marisa is a pioneer forging one of those paths, and doing so with grace, respect, and enviable skill. We are fortunate that she has chosen to share her mastery and enthusiasm with us in this book. Absorb what she teaches, practice and enjoy it, and you will be joining her unique journey—not to mention eating very well along the way.
Trevor Corson
author of The Story of Sushi: An Unlikely
Saga of Raw Fish and Rice
My Story: From Raw Novitiate to Seasoned Sushi Chef
In my early twenties, I was fortunate enough to own and operate a restaurant, catering business, and coffee shop in my hometown of Starkville, Mississippi. It was a magical time in my life. I had finally settled on a career in food despite having considered making my living as a civil engineer, competitive body builder, draftsman, and firefighter. Food and particularly entertaining were my true passion so I gave up the wild notions of youth to bake. While my businesses contained a multitude of services, my dream was to be the South’s premiere cake decorator. But that was not to be.
I can recall that fateful day when orthodontist Cooper Calloway entered The Chocolate Giraffe and asked to reserve the space one night for an office party. I smiled and nodded at his request for sushi as the special treat of the night. Of course we would be happy to provide it! And as he walked away, my smile melted into blank, cold dread. And my employees reflected what I was thinking. I had just promised to prepare something that I had never seen, tasted or experienced in my entire life! Starkville had yet to have a single sushi bar and the nearest one was hours away. What had I just gotten myself into? I calmed my nerves and decided after pouring over all of the sushi books I could find that if we could stick with “the cooked stuff ” that we’d be all right. I’d just make it through this one party and use this as a lesson to keep my invincible spirit in check for the future.
Did I mention that Starkville is a small town? Somehow, word spread that The Chocolate Giraffe was serving sushi the night of Cooper’s party. The phone rang off the hook and people stopped by all afternoon leaving slips of paper with a number where they could be reached in the event that we were able to prepare any extra sushi. I couldn’t believe the interest, especially as it continued on for days. Once again, I spoke too soon and promised that we would host a sushi night the start of the next semester. It was not forgotten and I was forced to keep that promise despite the difficulty of not having a local source to purchase any sushi products. My staff and I spent an incredible amount of time and energy researching methods for cold smoking salmon, making our own red pepper powder (togarashi), and perfecting our stovetop rice method. (J Rob, thank you for finding the perfect number of cans and bricks to weight down the lid!) We were the talk of the town with our pickled okra, smoked duck, crawfish, and other types of creative sushi based on readily accesible ingredients. And somewhere in the process, I fell head over heels in love with this cuisine. I had to know more.
I decided to close the business and explore other avenues. In the back of my mind, I wanted to find a way to go to The California Sushi Academy. It was exactly what I was looking for to continue my sushi education. But I was a little surprised at the reception of my plan from well meaning family and friends. Could a female, especially a black one, even get a job as a sushi chef? In my mind, the answer was an obvious yes. So my invincible, youthful spirit prompted me to get a one-way Greyhound ticket to LA with no living arrangements, no backup plan, and a little less than $300 in my pocket. I was going to become a sushi chef!
Sushi school was yet another magical time in my life. I soaked up every bit of information available to me. I placed my cutting board as close to Sensei as I could get everyday, I took meticulous notes and studied them intently. I went on as many allowed intern opportunities as I could. And in the end, I can’t think of a single way that I could