The perils of nostalgia

In 1984, I went to Japan as an exchange student.

I was 24, and open to all new experiences. The school put we three Americans in a house about a mile from the school. Across the street was Barber-san. Barber-san's name was Kazumasa Oshima, and he had a beauty parlor. He got me drunk many times over the course of the year. Mostly we drank beer. I am an Asahi man to this day.

Often, while drinking, Barber-san would bring ika--dried squid--which we would munch on while we drank.

The other day, I went to Austin and I stopped by Central Market to buy some beer. I stopped by the Asian aisle to get some panko breadcrumbs and I spotted some ika. So I bought it.

I don't remember so much of a fish taste. I remember that I liked it, but maybe it was I was eating so much fish then. But now? Well, it borders on the nasty.

Remember: hindsight is 20/20. Things you didn't like tasted much worse than you remember, and the things you kind of liked tasted like ambrosia.