makin' mochi
This weekend Hiroko and I went to her hometown of Shizuoka. Every year,
her grandparents have a mochi-making party. For those of you who don't
know, mochi
is sticky rice that has been pounded until it
becomes a gooey blob. It is extremely chewy. In fact, every year scores
of old Japanese folk take the big escalator to the sky after attempting
to swallow the amorphous gunk. That having been said, it is
tasty... and amazingly versatile. You
can powder it with kinako
(a sweetened soy powder) and eat it as a desert, or you can forgo the
sugar and drop bits of it into any number of savoury dishes. Chewiness
in any flavour!As it turns out, mochi is not just a workout for one's jaws, but for the entire body. This quickly became apparent when Hiroko's granny rolled out a giant wooden mortar to be used with a huge hammer. These instruments, along with buckets of rice and water in three colours (red, yellow and green) are the materials that start the process.
I then got a short lecture from Grampa. Apparently it is best to hold the mallet with the same grip that I would use for my kendo sword so that the head won't pivot during the down stroke. That would probably be good advice for someone who has actually held a kendo sword, but I was still a bit shaky on the technique.
Fortunately, Hiroko's Uncle Shuu has held any number of kendo swords, and he was the first to assume attack position over the cowering rice. I watched from the sidelines as Shuu pulverized the first batch of rice mush while Auntie Akemi flipped the glob between strikes. An impressive scene, really. I wasn't able to master the rhythmic "thump, thump" that years of martial arts training and a room full of samurai novels will inspire, but I did pay close enough attention to be able to soften up the mixture a wee bit.
I also needed to
pause far more often than Uncle Shuu. These pauses were
required not only as a respite for my sore hands, but because
Auntie Akemi was not quite as confident in my timing. I can't say I
blame her. I wouldn't be trusting/stupid enough to put my hand in the
path of a newcomer with a giant hammer. The whole process is a hell of a lot more taxing than one might think. Imagine trying to force a hammer through a giant glob of chewing gum and then pulling it out from the clinging cavity that you have just created. Repeat until muscle fatigue is accomplished. Fun for all! Hiroko avoided both the hammering and the possibility of being hammered. Her role was to provide a running commentary and to strike the occasional pose.
After pummeling, the mochi is laid out on trays until it has dried out enough to cut into blocks. Apparently there is some sort of technique to the cutting, but that was left out of grandpa's lecture. I'll have to do some research before next year's gathering. I was able to cut all the mochi into little blocks, and they look fine to me, but grandma seemed less than impressed. In contrast, she gushed with praise when Uncle Takao went at his block. Ah, the mystery that is mochi.
enter the mochi
While I have tried to be as informative as possible, there are obviously nuances of the mochi-making experience that I have missed. In order to remedy this omission, I've attached this educational video. A few of you are probably familiar with it already. mochi punch!
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