Soaking Wooden Boxes of Mochi Rice

When a friend from Chiba Prefecture, Japan had come to the islands for an exchange she wasn’t thinking of artisan mochi, but when she was learning about the Hawaii scene for mochi she was expecting something close to a Wagashi shop. Maybe a long alley way that had shops on both sides in the traditional Japanese way that had nice cases of mochi with glass coverings, but what she stepped into was closer to a hole in the wall shop. It was a bit of boredom, culture shock, and recognition that there was nothing but the types of beans that would be familiar, but all the rest, it wasn’t Japanese at all. It was mochi that was being made in a way that was pretty foreign, so she thought about it with the approach with the large amounts of sugar that was in the mochi rice for more than a subtle sweetness, but in comparison it was too sugary. Why do they add so much sugar to it? Do they eat mochi with green tea? And why are there other sweet things in the mochi? Those answers would come as she learned that it was a stand-alone grab and go snack, maybe it is more likely to be eaten with coffee, and treated not with the idea of balancing a bite, but being an unapologetic treat. Ice cream? Candy? Cookies? Fruits? It's all in the single bite, even the milk or coffee is optional here, but not the bite, that is what becomes the event. She felt like it was misleading as mochi, but something very sweet and delicious if thought of as a sort of pillowy candy, but still candy, she was confused by its regionality.

In modern Japan where mochi can be found at a local convenience store or high end department store the amount of time, dedication, and craftsmanship seems over the top. Going and seeing so many people from the rural towns bring those practices into the city and even in the more populated towns seems like a time capsule in an alternate Japan reality of polynesian evolution. When they see how the Hawaiian families that don’t even have any Japanese are soaking the rice, setting up burners, and getting ready with their powder as they clap their hands is a shocking amount of labor. Such a level of manual dedication with no monetary pay off has largely vanished from much of the country and vanishes even quicker by the day. The mochi traditions in Hawaii didn't come from the modern, polished cities of Japan; they came from the sugar cane plantations—the rural prefectures of the late 1800s and early 1900s. Hawaii mochi looks like an old folklore version of their culture that is sweeter, rougher, more rustic, and speaks Hawaiian Pidgin English. And it’s not just a little sweet, it’s quite sweet, because of the sugar.

For the local people, most don’t mind the sweetness, but it’s not really something they think too much about either, until someone throws in something funny. It might not be daifuku, but in a way it's daifuku, but it's Japanese, yet it's not really Japanese, but people aren’t thinking too hard about it at all. It's more like they are just thinking “do I want some mochi?” and the rest of the hard thinking they believe should be left to someone else, so they just consume, buy, repeat. For people who have their favorites they tend to be looking for things that sound good or are similar to what they already like, so the people who like strawberry shortcake mochi are also likely to have their attention pulled by a fruit punch shortcake mochi (strawberry watermelon), because of the cake part, or if it had pound cake in it, but that same person might not be thinking about ever making it. The people making the mochi might not even be thinking about how the equipment was forged either, so it’s about how hooked they are on the stories. Everything has a story, even the wood!

"You have to take care of what takes care of you."

In the humidity in Hawaii, the wood is always moving—it’s alive, just like the family. When those bottom slats start to splinter from the heat, it takes some knowledge and know how to not just toss them aside, since it has to be used for the next time the family needs it. There would be someone who takes the time to sand them down, smooth and clean, before it goes back to soak to be mochi pounding ready. The mallets eventually get dry and start to crack if they are too dry, don’t let them not soak in the water, let them drink until they’re heavy and strong again. It’s a cycle of maintaining the tools and the repair that mirrors the family itself—if it’s broken, you don't discard it; you put in the work to make it whole again. That is why it is important to know where the tools came from, how they were made from a time long gone, just in case, because the future is not always certain, but it's good to be prepared.

The Wooden Boxes “sedo” (traditional wooden steamer box) are often made with red-wood or something similar as there would be woods that would be desired for the steaming of the glutinous rice. In Japan, the gold standard is Hinoki (Japanese Cypress) or Sugi (Japanese Cedar) that grows on the big island with a few people making their steamer boxes from Beisugi (Western Red Cedar). These are prized because they are rot-resistant, don’t warp in the heat, naturally rot resistant, and don't impart a bitter taste to the rice. A carpenter had mentioned that Koa as it would likely warp under intense steam, most are also pressure-treated, or chemically stained wood. Hawaii makers actually prefer Sugi because its scent is more earthy and less perfumey, which lets the natural sweetness and enhanced sweetness of the mochigome (sweet rice) stand out. Unlike metal or plastic, wood keeps the steam at a consistent high temperature through insulation without creating condensation that can drip back onto the rice. 

For a family-sized dimensions of a sedo would be: Outer Dimensions: 30cm x 30cm (approx. 12" x 12"), Height: 12cm to 15cm (approx. 5" to 6"), and Thickness: 1.5cm to 2cm (approx. 5/8" to 3/4"). Joinery, they are specifically designed for the steaming process before the rice is pounded into mochi, held together with wooden nails, these are called Ki-kugi (木釘). They are essential because metal nails will rust instantly in the steam and eventually rot the wood from the inside out. Japanese makers used Arimine (Dovetail) or Hozo-sashi (Mortise and Tenon), similar to a Rabbet joint, to create a lip that prevents steam from escaping through the corners. At the bottom of each box, they would make their own  wooden nails! four thin strips of wood that act as a skirt, which allows the box to sit securely on top of the one below it, creating a steam-tight seal.