Rice Planting

Early July 2009 

It's raining.  “Piri-piri, piri-piri,” the rain bounces off the leaves outside my bedroom window.  “Piri-piri, piri-piri.”  I can’t sleep, but know I should.   Tomorrow is taue.

If it rains, some of the people coming to help plant the rice tomorrow may cancel.  They’re worried about the rain.  But rice planting has already started.  Yesterday, Tadaaki and a few others gathered the shoots he grew from seed and began tying them into bunches for planting.  There is no going back.  Rain or not, rice planting is happening. 

My husband used to plant the rice with a machine, but the machine left so many seedlings floating on top of the water that he had to go over the whole field to fix the missed plantings.   Before, Tadaaki worked on the rice field with his father, but recently the boys (and I) have been helping.  Last year Tadaaki decided to plant the rice by hand and our Slow Food friend, Yoshikai-san, volunteered to bring some Youth Food Movement students who were hot to try their hands at “real farming.”  Tadaaki made doburoku  (homebrewed sake—strictly illegal) and invited more friends.  A few students came…late.  Students’ hearts are in the right place, though sometimes they’re unrealistic about commitments.  This year none actually made it, but we had about 18 adult friends show up to plant.  Some SSU! kids came too.  Cooking lunch and dinner for 30 plus takes time, so I also never made it to the field, but everyone else finished planting the field at around 6 pm.  It took 7 hours.

First of all, you don’t wear boots.  You plant rice in bare feet.  When you take your first step into the rice field, your toes curl to get some purchase.  It’s like sticking your feet into cornstarch gloop.  Every time you take a step the wet mud does not want to let you go so there is a suction effect making each and every step a concerted effort.   Also, you must step slowly and carefully, walking in others’ footsteps, so as not to create more holes in the rice field that has been carefully leveled.  At this point there is about 1 cm of water covering the field.  Trying not to think about the leeches that live in the muddy water, you separate a seedling from the dripping bunch you are carrying and holding it gently, almost like a calligraphy brush, you flip your wrist as you insert the seedling straight down into the mud.  The seedling should not be planted too deep.  The roots should just break the mud’s surface.  It’s slow going but when that last row is planted and you look out over the scores of other rows, that is a mighty feeling of accomplishment.

Our friend, Harigaya-san, lives up in the mountains.  He’s an ex-IT guy who chucked “the good life” and reinvented his life near here.  He rebuilt an old Japanese mountain home, leaving the original irori open hearth cooking area and traditional wood-fired kitchen.  He makes musical instruments, computer music and furniture.  He’s an interesting guy.  Harigaya-san’s crew joined the rice planters in mid-afternoon.  Having donned traditional Japanese summer yukata and shishimai headdresses, they performed a wild lion dance to excite the gods and increase the rice “fertility.”  As Harigaya-san’s flute lilted over the rice fields, the workers felt a freshening wind and increased their pace, gaining energy from the quick bursts of air Harigaya-san sent into his slender piece of bamboo.  At 6pm the exhausted, muddy crew was on its way to the local hot spring for a bath. 

By 7:30 they were back at our house for a dinner that started with steaming bowls of fresh-picked edamame quick boiled and tossed with salt, served with ice-cold beer—a welcome relief after a day of planting in the hot sun.  Tadaaki dragged out the big pottery urn full of doburoku and started passing cups around.  Doburoku has a pleasant overtone of flowers, but it’s disconcerting to have bits of rice floating around in my drink.  I stuck with wine.  The dinner meandered along until 11 or 12, I lost track of the time.  We started with sliced tomatoes and Italian style white beans drizzled with olive oil.  I served these with crostini.  New friends were made and old friends re-discovered.  Our guests had worked on the land and now they were eating the food that came from that land.  For them, my western take on food was unusual and welcome.  They ate with gusto and great interest.  Lively conversations spilled out as we milled around.  It was an eclectic, unconventional Japanese crowd and these people clearly had no social barriers.  They knew how to let go and have fun.

Before we moved to the tables for dinner, Harigaya-san’s group set up an alter outside complete with drums and lit by torches.  In the courtyard before our house, they performed their lion dance, crouching, leaping and feinting in the flickering flames.  I glanced over to see a couple of my preschool girls playing the drums.  It made me smile.  Their dance came from some primal place and even the little kids could participate.  This lion dance was different from the formalized dance my kids learn and perform at the local shrine.  This dance came from the heart of the mountains and from the hearts of the dancers.  As I looked around the semi-circle of friends watching mesmerized in the night, I felt the power of these ancient agricultural rites and beliefs.  And thought where else, but here.

Rice Planting Dinner:

Italian Slow Roast Pork: Have the butcher tie up a loin roast and salt overnight.  Bring to room temp then slit at various intervals with a sharp knife.  Add olive oil to chopped summer garlic and rosemary to make a paste.  Massage into the pork.   Cook for 2 hours at 325.  Let cool.  Serve at room temp.

Polenta Torta: Follow recipe from Alice Waters' Simple Food book. I used organic corn meal, made a tomato sauce from our friend's summer tomatoes into which I folded some thick cut onion half rounds that I had sautéed until still slightly crunchy.  I used less Parmesan in the gratin because I ran out and perhaps more mozzarella--Organic Valley, grated not sliced.  The result was creamy and very lovely. My polenta was fairly loose and I think that contributed to the creaminess--but the mozzarella was a fantastic addition.  Top with sautéed zucchini cubes.

Sautéed Zucchini Cubes: Make sure you do not use any spongy center.  Cut into 1/2-inch cubes and cook quickly in good olive oil over high heat with a little salt.  Toss continuously with two flat wooden spoons until no longer raw, but still pleasantly crunchy.  Sprinkle with chopped garden parsley and serve.

Garden Lettuce Salad: Prepare greens in Ziploc bags and make salad at last moment.  Muddle roughly chopped fresh garlic with salt to make a viscous paste.  Add a little homemade vinegar and fresh ground pepper.  Toss greens with excellent olive oil and chopped summer savory leaves.  Drizzle in the garlic and vinegar to taste.  Best to toss with your gentle hands--think lightly.

Fresh Corn: Well the corn was serendipity.  We couldn't say no to the offer.  I know, polenta and corn.  It still worked.  Use corn same day as picked (preferably within a few hours).  Shuck corn.  Prepare boiling water.  Turn off flame and add corn.  Stir and cover.  Remove corn after 3 minutes.  Serve without butter.

Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream & Raspberry Sauce: Follow Lindsey Shere's Vanilla Ice Cream recipe (Chez Panisse Desserts).  Use best cream, eggs, vanilla and organic sugar available.  Freeze ice cream in small batches (preferably use an ice cream maker with its own freezing unit).  Stir in each new batch to the previous batches to end up with a smooth, homogenous finished ice cream.  Start to make raspberry jam (4 cups berries to 3 cups organic sugar) and remove "syrup" once the sugar has melted and the mixture has thickened a little.  Cool.

Traditional Shishimai:  Shibuya-san, Matthew, Andrew

Comments

[Jeff Martin]

Hi Nancy
best edition yet
Hi Nancy
you are really catching the communication of the soul of what u are doiing
I am intrigued (?) by the planting of rice
I would like our next visit to coincide with rice planting
what appeals to me is the
mud ,,,,this and the planting...is me,
drums
and Tadaki's illegal. Brew
and the other stuff you wrote about
love to you Tadaki and the boyz
jeffie

[Rodney Fong]

My wife's family comes from a line of Japanese immigrant coffee growers in Kona on the Big Island of Hawaii. She would relate her parents' tales of life on the plantations, the hard work, the rituals, but mostly memories of what seems like a world long since gone. It happens on a smaller scale now, with fewer and fewer private coffee farms. I think only 1 of her uncles still goes back to help with the harvest. I would guess that most of us reading your blog are from more urban and western cultures. I can only imagine what life was like back then, and now here you are living a similar kind of life. Your description of rice planting is only something I can relate to seeing in a museum display or a movie, like Jet Li's "Fearless", where he comes upon an agrarian village and learns about life and perspective from planting rice. I can see how you have come to embrace your life and to share your culture with your new one.

[Jacky]

That is very interesting Nancy! Thanks for sharing with us.

[Peter McCook]

What a great experiece to appreciate the origin of the food you will enjoy at harvest

[Olga Singleton]

I like the process. It sounds like a fun and exciting event! You must look forward to writing these stories. It seems like you sit down, unwind, and let your genius free. (im such a dork haha) I love these stories : D

[Nancy Singleton Hachisu]

Rodney, thanks for the faithful and relevant comments. Peter, nice to "see" another Toyonite chime in every once in a while. You both are right, this is an old way of life, but I think more people all over the world are moving back to it. Simplicity is hard work, but strangely restful.

Jacky, thank you for taking care of Christopher. He blossomed while in Boston.

And to two of my favorite extended family members: brother-in-law Jeff and niece Olga..."Jeffie": thanks. Poetically peppered with typos, as always unconcerned with form, I can definitely imagine you on the rice field. Though sister Pam not. Not just the mud, but the leeches would certainly keep her out. Truthfully, they're not as bad as they sound. I've only had to pick off a few. Olga: you're exactly right that I "look forward to writing these stories" and the "unwind" part...but I think letting my "genius free" is a big stretch.

[Joanne Godley]

Hi Nancy,

Your writing is magical: I feel transported by your blog into the workings and feel of a different culture--which I love! The other thing is that your photos are absolutely superb! I'm very visual and being able to look at the presentation of the food (or food preparation) is a feast in and of itself. Thank you for doing this!

Joanne G.