Shi(shamo)’s so fine, she blows my mindShishamo. What is it about her that makes me crave her so? Sometimes I travel far to partake in her pleasures, most notably in Japan. October’s the time to go, when her belly is bursting with eggs, her fertility calling like a siren’s song.But now I’m on this side of the Pacific, and feel lucky to be able to find shishamo hanging out in some of our Japanese dens of dining. I recently sought her out at Kaname, where I requested her presence. In mere moments, she made her entrance, lying prone on a plate. Oh, she acted a bit like a dead fish, but if not so meek and timid, I know she would have said, “Lube me up. Then jump my bones and eat me up. Ravish me.”Or did she mean “radish me”? You see, shishamo is indeed a dead fish, essentially a smelt, and one that I most enjoy grilled whole. And eaten whole–bones and all. At Kaname, an order comes with some grated daikon radish, a cooling and refreshing accompaniment to each bite of the shishamo. I like to spritz a little lemon on the fish, then I start with a bite or two of the tail, which teases me with what’s still to come. I then switch ends and move to the head, as this is truly head-to-tail loving. I explore and enjoy the entire body, bit-by-bit, eventually arriving at the shishamo’s belly full of eggs. These are her crown jewels, a delicacy well worth savoring. The taste and the texture on the tongue are just divine.Normally, I’m an advocate of active partnership in bed. But sometimes a little submissive action is acceptable. It can feel good to be the dom when eating out the shishamo sprawled out before you.