I have a confession to make.
I’m addicted to making onigiri these days. There’s something very calming about forming the hot, steamed rice into various shapes with wet hands. I feel the same serentiy as I did in elementary school art class, mixing plaster of paris with warm water, dipping gauze pieces, and working on art projects. Plus – the girls ask for them, and eat them without complaint. My older one has gotten the hang of eating them daintily, while my little one is starting to get the hang of eating them without breaking them apart into smaller “ballies.” She carefully watches her older sister taking bites across the rice ball in a straight line – and imitates her.
The only hiccup with onigiri?
Sometimes, the rice grains stick to the little one’s hands, and in frustration, she’ll shake her hands trying to get the grains off. I’ve found myself stepping in little rice grain castaways, flung from her high chair as I rush to get them ready for school, and I inwardly grumble as I pick them off of my socked feet.
These days, I’m determined to master the art of making a decent onigiri. I want to making rice-balls with equal width and equal consistency, not mashing up each rice grain, and not having them crumble before I can pack them into my daughter’s lunch-box. I also want to figure out the ratio of brown rice to other grains, and see how I can carefully start incorporating my usual grain mix successfully.
Today’s lunch includes:
Boiled corn on the cob
Blanched asparagus spears
Sautéed mini-sausages (conventional)
Age Kama or fried fish cake cut out in elephant shapes
Roasted beets in heart shapes