The approach of International Sushi Day on 18 June should be a celebration of Japan’s most famous culinary export, a dish whose very name – “vinegared rice” – speaks to the primacy of technique over ingredient. Yet this year, festivities are shadowed by a visceral reminder of the risks inherent in consuming raw fish. A video that circulated from Hong Kong showed a linear parasite wriggling from a slice of kinmedai sashimi, prompting alarm across Southeast Asia and prompting Indonesian nutrition experts to issue public guidance. Dr Karina Rahmadia Ekawidyani of IPB University urged diners to be highly selective about where they eat raw seafood, whilst noting that traditional accompaniments like wasabi and pickled ginger are not mere condiments but functional antimicrobials, historically deployed to mitigate exactly these dangers.

That same week, a far more macabre discovery unfolded in a German kitchen, where a homeowner discovered that a persistent, strange noise from a wooden cutting board was caused by a worm that had been living inside it for nearly two years. The incident, though less pathogenic, underscores a broader breakdown in the hygienic barriers between humans and their food. In Shenzhen, doctors extracted two live 10-centimetre sparganum worms from a woman’s arm after a year of undiagnosed swelling; the parasite, they concluded, had likely entered her body through unhygienic kitchen practices involving raw meat. Viewed from London, these scattered episodes suggest a globalised food supply chain that is increasingly porous to biological hazards, even as culinary trends champion ever more unprocessed, raw, and “authentic” dining experiences.

Meanwhile, across the Americas, veterinary authorities are confronting parasites of a more aggressive nature. The United States has recorded the first cases of screwworm in decades – a flesh-eating fly whose larvae burrow into the living tissue of warm-blooded animals, including household pets. The re-emergence along the U.S.-Mexico border has triggered urgent advisories for pet owners to inspect wounds meticulously. In Brazil, veterinarians are warning that engorged ticks, often dismissed as less mobile and therefore less dangerous, are in fact the most hazardous: a single “fat” tick can deposit thousands of eggs into a home environment, dramatically raising the risk of severe infections such as ehrlichiosis. Further south, a pathogenic fungus, Sporothrix brasiliensis, is spreading beyond domestic cats into wild mammals, birds, and reptiles, raising fears of a silent epidemic across South American ecosystems.

Analysts in Asia note that the sushi scare and the Chinese worm case share a common thread: both involve parasites that thrive where raw protein is handled casually. In Buenos Aires, where sushi has undergone a dramatic transformation from cream-cheese-laden rolls to refined omakase bars, chefs are placing renewed emphasis on technique and provenance – a shift that may offer a culinary defence against such risks. Yet, as European food-safety experts observe, no amount of artisanal skill can substitute for rigorous cold-chain management and consumer education.

Taken together, these seemingly disparate events reveal a world in which the boundaries between human, animal, and environmental health are increasingly blurred. Climate change is expanding the range of vectors, from screwworm flies in North America to fungal pathogens in the tropics. Globalised trade in food and live animals accelerates the spread of parasites and microbes. The lesson from Hong Kong to São Paulo is that vigilance cannot be confined to the clinic or the slaughterhouse; it must extend to the kitchen counter, the pet’s fur, and the sushi bar. As one Argentine food writer noted, sushi has been “adopted as our own” – but so, it seems, have the parasites that come with it.