It is not as world famous as ramen or sushi. But the humble onigiri is soul food in Japan

TOKYO (AP) – The word “onigiri” became part of the The Oxford English Dictionary this year, proof that the simple sticky rice ball and mainstay of Japanese food has entered the global lexicon.

The rice balls are filled with a variety of fillings and usually wrapped in seaweed. It is an everyday dish that embodies “washoku” — Traditional Japanese cuisine that was designated a UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage a decade ago.

Onigiri is “fast food, slow food and soul food,” says Yusuke Nakamura, who runs the Onigiri Society, a trade group in Tokyo.

Quickly because you can also find it in convenience stores. Slow because it uses ingredients from the sea and the mountains, he said. And spiritual food because it is often made and consumed among family and friends. No tools needed, just gently clasped hands.

“It’s also mobile, food on the go,” he said.

Onigiri in its earliest form is believed to date back to at least the early 11th century; it is mentioned in Murasaki Shikibu’s The Tale of Genji. It appears in Akira Kurosawa’s classic 1954 film Seven Samurai as the ultimate gift of gratitude from farmers.

What exactly goes into onigiri?

The sticky characteristic of Japanese rice is key.

What is placed inside it is called “gu”, or filling. A perennial favorite is the umeboshi, or salted plum. Or maybe mentaiko, which is hot and spicy roe. But in principle, anything can be placed inside the onigiri, even sausage or cheese.

The ball is then wrapped in seaweed. Even a good big onigiri would make a meal, although many people would eat more.

Some stand close to the classic onigiri

Yosuke Miura runs Onigiri Asakusa Yadoroku, a restaurant founded in 1954 by his grandmother. Yadoroku, which roughly translates to “good for nothing”, is named after her husband, Miura’s grandfather. It claims to be the oldest onigiri restaurant in Tokyo.

There are only two tables. The counter has eight chairs. Leaving is an option, but you must stand in line.

“No one likes onigiri,” Miura said, smiling behind a wooden counter. In a display case in front of him are bowls of gou, including miso-flavored salmon, shrimp and ginger. “It’s nothing special in essence. Every Japanese has eaten it 100%.

Also a classical flautist, Miura sees onigiri as a score given to him by his grandmother, which he will faithfully reproduce.

“In classical music, you play what is written on the sheet music. Onigiri is the same,” he says. “You don’t try to do something new.”

Yadoruku is housed in the quaint old part of Tokyo called Asakusa. It opens at 11:30 and closes when they run out of rice, usually within an hour. Then it opens again for dinner. The most expensive onigiri costs 770 yen ($4.90), with salmon roe, while the cheapest is 319 yen ($2). This includes miso soup. No reservations are made.

Although onigiri can be round or square, animal or star-shaped, Miura’s standard is triangular ones. He makes them to order, right before your eyes, taking only 30 seconds for each.

He places the hot rice in triangular molds that look like cookie cutters, rubs salt on his hands, and then seals the rice—three times to gently firm the sides. Fresh nori, or seaweed, is wrapped like a handkerchief around the rice, with an end up so it stays crunchy.

The first bite is just nori and rice. The stone comes with your second bite.

“Onigiri Yadoroku will not change until the end of the Earth,” Miura said with a smile.

Others want to experiment

Miyuki Kawarada runs Taro Tokyo Onigiri, which has four locations in Japan. She is also looking at Los Angeles and then Paris. Her vision: to make onigiri “the fast food of the world.”

The name Taro was chosen because it is common, the Japanese equivalent of John or Michael. Onigiri, she says, has mass appeal because it’s simple to make, gluten-free and versatile.

And other Japanese food like ramen and sushi have found popularity worldwideshe notes.

In her cheerful, modern shop, workers in khaki company T-shirts busily prepare balls of shell and rice in a visible kitchen behind the cash register. The shop serves only grass-fed food.

Kawarada’s onigiri has a lot of gu on top, for colorful filling, instead of inside. Each comes with an individually wrapped piece of nori to place around it right before eating.

Her stone becomes adventurous. Cream cheese is mixed with a spicy Japanese pickle called “iburigakko,” for example, and each onigiri costs 250 yen ($1.60). Spam and egg onigiri cost 300 yen ($1.90); the one adorned with several types of “kombu,” or edible kelp, called “Dashi Punch X3,” costs 280 yen ($1.80).

“Onigiri is the infinite universe. We are not bound by tradition,” said Kawarada.

CLIENTS

Asami Hirano, who stopped by while walking her dog, took a long time choosing her meal at Taro Tokyo Onigiri on a recent day.

“I’ve always loved onigiri since I was a kid. My mother made them,” she said.

Nicolas Foo Cheung, a Frenchman who works nearby as an intern, had been to Taro Tokyo Onigiri several times before and thinks it’s a good deal. “It’s simple food,” he said.

Miki Yamada, a food promoter, deliberately calls onigiri “omusubi,” the other common word for rice balls, because the latter more clearly refers to the idea of ​​bonds. She says her life’s mission is to bring people together, especially after the triple earthquake, tsunami and nuclear disaster struck her family’s rice farm in Fukushima, northeastern Japan, in 2011.

“In dealing with omusubi, I encountered a spirituality, a kind of basic Japaneseness,” she said.

There is nothing better, she said, than plain Aizu rice omusubi with a little salt and nothing inside.

“It gives you energy. It’s the ultimate comfort food,” she said.

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Yuri Kageyama is on X: https://twitter.com/yurikageyama

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