At Tokyo’s Toyosu auctions on New Year’s mornings, a single tuna now sells for millions of dollars, and the news travels the world. You would not believe the same fish’s name in the Edo period: neko-matagi 猫跨ぎ, the fish even a cat steps over.

The contempt had practical roots. In the world before refrigeration, tuna’s fatty flesh spoiled fast; soy sauce could not penetrate the fat, so the meat would not keep and its taste turned heavy. Tuna was counted as gezakana, the cheap fish of the common streets. One turning point came around 1832, when an extraordinary run of tuna flooded the Edo market and a sushi stall tried marinating the lean red flesh in soy sauce. The method, called zuke, caught on. For fatty toro to take the throne, the world had to wait for refrigeration, which is to say the twentieth century.

The Tuna Roll is the plainest telling of this great case of restored honor: deep ruby akami 赤身, rice, nori. It needs nothing in between.

A reminder that value, too, has a history: on the plate sits the correction of an old injustice.