Shark 1, Squid 0.

LAST spring I was out to dinner at Zenkichi, a Japanese restaurant in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, where small dishes of appetizers flew down so fast that I hardly paused for even a sip of sake. Then a bite of something pink and crunchy in a viscous dressing stopped me cold. The texture was somewhere between almonds and raw spaghetti. The flavor was tangy, fishy and pungent -- I recognized umeboshi (pickled plums), flying-fish roe and sweet mirin (rice wine). And I couldn't stop from devouring it. [ABSTRACT FROM PUBLISHER]