Mochi! Many people die!

Which is what the head of Publications exclaimed when I brought in some commercial mochi-based snacks (daifuku) for the Archives. It's what she had heard in Japan whenever mochi was mentioned. And yes... having now tasted the Real Thing, I can confirm that mochi is dangerous food.

Mochi is steamed rice pounded to a pulp. Not any old rice--special mochi rice is required. You wash it five times, soak it overnight, steam it, then pound it into a glutinous mass. The traditional way of doing this is with a wooden or stone mortar and a huge wooden hammer. And this is where half of the danger comes in. Because while up to four people are pounding away with hammers, another is reaching into the mortar on the off-beat and turning the lump over. Gaijin humorist Amy Chavez, in her essay on mochi-making in Shiraishi Island, notes that her community's "Dodger" has only four and a half fingers.

Despite the danger, or perhaps because of it, mochi is a food with rich traditions. The rabbit in the moon is making mochi. Even Perry's sailors got into the act. But now the would-be mochi-maker does not need to risk maiming to have this traditional Japanese New Year's treat. The casual cook can use mochi flour, hot water and a microwave oven to create the dough. A somewhat more serious cook can invest in a mochi machine.

This is what our sensei brought to class on Tuesday, along with eight cups of soaked rice and a huge collection of condiments. Work with the -ta verb form largely ceased while the students grated daikon, mixed soy sauce with sugar, and emptied natto, kinako and canned sweet red beans into bowls. My apartment was filled with a glorious steamed-rice smell as the mochi machine, about the size of a small picnic cooler, went through its "steam" cycle.

Then came the "pound" cycle, and all pretense at work was abandoned. Within a few minutes, a large pot of steamed rice was transformed into a small, quivering ball, which reminded all gaijin present of The Blob. This magic was accomplished, not by a rabbit with a hammer, but by a small rotating paddle at the bottom of the pot. Then came a great frenzy of activity, as teacher and students, hands wetted to prevent adhesion, tore the Blob into bits and dropped them in the bowls of condiments. That consumed about half the mochi--the other half was patted into circles (cornstarch prevented adhesion here), stuffed with sweet red beans, and arranged on a cornstarch-dusted cookie sheet "for dessert".

All that remained was the eating. Mochi lumps were fished out of their sauces with chopsticks, piled onto plates, and then popped into waiting mouths. Mmmmm..... chew chew chew.... Oh dear!

Because we had just discovered the other danger of mochi--the reason that "many people die" each year during the Japanese New Year's celebration. Which is, this stuff is sticky! A person with a mouthfull of fresh mochi is as helpless as a dog with a mouthful of peanut butter. Your only hope for survival is to keep chewing patiently until it is safe to swallow. If you try to swallow the lump whole, probably even a Heimlich maneuver wouldn't be able to dislodge it.

It's worth it, though. This stuff is good! Especially with grated daikon and soy sauce, or soy sauce and sugar, or kinako, or canned sweet red beans. I'm still ambivalent about the natto.

Oh, one more thing. Don't try to save it for later. Fresh home-made mochi turns into concrete after a day in the fridge. I was gnawing on the leftovers while watching the Rose Parade today, crossing mental fingers for the integrity of my teeth. They must put something in those commercial daifuku to keep them soft.

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