Belly up to the naked sushi bar -- you can stomach it

By JAMES GOLDSMITH
SPECIAL TO THE POST-INTELLIGENCER

On a pair of plasma monitors, a Merrie Melodies cartoon commences: "Chowhound." Me, I could do with some sushi. In fact, I can't remember so keenly anticipating sushi.


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Partly it's the atmosphere. The guest DJ has been ramping up the thumpa-thumpa for the past half an hour (or is that my heart going pitter-pat?)

Partly it's that I'm attending a night of "naked sushi," also known as "body sushi."

Soon, a disrobed young woman, supine on a tall table and strategically covered with plastic wrap and a hint of lingerie, will serve as a platter.

I've seen it in the movie "Rising Sun," a 1993 Sean Connery crime thriller set in Japan, where this dining phenomenon has long been popular, especially among businessmen. I've read about it in reports from New York and Los Angeles, where catering companies have done a brisk business for more than a decade.

Just as I'm thinking, "Say, wasn't earlier tonight the total eclipse of the moon?" I catch a rear-view glimpse of a thin woman gliding out from the kitchen -- her only visible clothing the black straps of a thong. She disappears in the alcove opposite the bar, behind a clutch of customers.

Bonzai has been featuring naked sushi on Saturday nights weekly for the past couple months. It started on a monthly basis in May. They call it performance art.

Others call it something else. The afternoon of my visit, members of the Seattle chapter of the National Asian Pacific American Women's Forum had hosted a "Community Action Forum," at the UW Women's Center titled "Protest the Prostitution of Sushi!!!"

No signs of protest were in sight at Bonzai on Saturday. I get in line, which would vary from eight-deep to none during the half hour or so of the "performance." I'd paid a $5 cover charge. Then, with the purchase of a regularly priced drink, I'd been given a red ticket, redeemable for four pieces of sushi.

My brave spouse has accompanied me here but opts not to partake. Armed with her ticket, I'll be able to make two passes. Good. It will take two passes to digest the scene.

Nearing the front of the line, I see the young woman stretched out on the table. A pair of glassed candles, like tall votives, frame her small, crossed feet. Another pair flank her head. She and the table are sprinkled with rose petals. I see her torso, down to her panties, covered with plastic wrap, flower patterns obscuring breasts.

So, she is not truly naked.

No time to gawk. I'm up. First, I turn over my ticket, then collect my gear: a small plate, a swab of wasabi, a couple shakes of shoyu, and a pair of chopsticks.

She looks serene, eyes closed, silent, breathing slowly. It must take composure, I think. Things must tickle, and itch, but you can't scratch, and you can't very well ask a customer to scratch. A young woman speaks in her ear, "Are you OK?" Slightest of nods.

I have my own problems. A photographer pops up on the other side of the table and snaps off a flash. What was I thinking at that frozen moment? I was thinking, "Let's see, what looks good?"

It's too dark to hazard a guess what the heck kind of rolls are available.

Owner/chef Jun Hong, who also owns Belltown's Wasabi Bistro, stands on the other side of her, replenishing the supply. Nothing on the legs, nothing on the breasts or panties.

Ah, that looks like nigiri sushi, maybe tuna. And I'll take this triangular thing, and a pair of whatever these might be.

Is my mind on s-e-x? N-o.

Am I looking at this bod with lust? Only for that morsel of tuna.

Is she lovely? Who can tell? She's covered with plastic and sushi.

And I'm busy with my technique, trying my very best not to poke her with my chopsticks.

I have my quota, and there's a young woman behind me at this living, breathing, mini-smorgasbord. With sushi, this is marginally OK; the concept would never work at Old Country Buffet.

Back at our the table, my spouse eats three of four pieces. But I have another round coming. We chat about how respectful the crowd is. We're surprised at the number of women who participate. It feels as though the model is afforded admiration, not lechery.

I learn later from manager Danny Park that women sometimes ask to participate after witnessing the performance art. Currently, a roster of seven rotates duties, paid a small, undisclosed sum.

Meanwhile, the bar crowd a few feet from the sushi look more concerned with Bugs and Daffy in a zany old Chuck Jones adventure that would probably be offensive to Arabs.

Nobody's turned to look at the girl, whose half-hour performance is about up. The line has dwindled.

The DJ has mixed different sounds around that same, constant thumpa-thumpa. Naked sushi comes. Naked sushi goes. And the beat goes on.

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In other countries like Far East Asia women are still held in LOWER esteem BUT in China, it’s a different story. Chinese women are much more aggressive and outspoken and held in Higher esteem.” I love Communist that provides males and females Equality and WOMEN’S Rights in China.