Rice of the Onigiri.
[28/6/2024, 10:36:22 pm] Jennifer Wong: another thing I would read from you
[28/6/2024, 10:36:37 pm] Jennifer Wong: is your take on the proliferation of onigiri in Australia right now.
I don’t usually receive requests, so when I do, I should be excited.
Instead I was triggered.
Remember that chicken rice shop in Melaka, the one that charges rice by the ball?
Malaysians know what it is.
A tourist trap.
Now those ‘savvy’ Malaysians are queuing up for onigiris - also rice in the shape of balls.
Gimme a break.
But Harvard, it’s Japanese rice.
Ko-shi-hi-ka-ri.
Don’t get me started.
I was onto koshihikari three years ago.
A Japanese Rice Story.
I know that feeling. You’re standing inside an Asian grocery store, staring at the 5kg bags of Japanese rice, and you’re thinking: $40? For rice? Are you having a laugh? The wife loves Japanese rice, but I don’t know man, can she tell the difference? Is this just a scam?
Three years ago you said you couldn’t afford Japanese rice, but now I caught you using your hard-earned money and weekend downtime to queue up, then spend the equivalent amount of hourly rate on rice balls.
No Harvard, it’s omusubi.
It ties our hearts together.
Come on, man.
That’s a straight copy pasta from dim sum.
Allow me to reminisce on my first time eating Ryo’s ramen in Sydney.
There was no Google Maps or Uber back then. I had to use hand-drawn map and written notes to find my way to Crow’s Nest. Trust me when I say it was a long way to Ryo’s from Chippendale.
Ryo’s Noodles, in 2024 standard, is probably mid. (Similar to Momotaro along Richmond, or Wabi Sabi in Collingwood. Anyone remember them?)
But hey, back in 2007, it was either Ryo’s, Gumshara or Ichibanboshi, amirite?
When I saw onigiri on the menu I spent another $10 of uni student money on the riceballs. So the magic could continue.
I held it with care on the train back and took a bite.
It wasn’t great. But I was in denial.
I just couldn’t appreciate it, I thought. My tongue was the problem.
What was past-Harvard thinking, buying rice balls from a ramen shop?
My point was, onigiri isn’t a new thing, it’s always been there.
It’s like those self-help posters in front of organic grocery stores:
How to talk to your child as parents.
How to deal with conflicts in the modern world.
How to breathe for adults.
People who signed up, who raised you?
Did no one teach you how to cook rice, season the rice, buy a mould from Daiso, some tuna, and mayo, and make some onigiri yourselves? No access to YouTube?
I have no mouth, but I must scream.
The answer, Jennifer, is the rejection against authority, education and knowledge. Look at wine labels now - a brain dump of 80s pop art nostalgia, 90s superflat movement, and the ironic humour of the 00s.
The kids have grown up, and they also have disposable income now.
They don’t want to be told what to eat, how to eat, when to eat.
It’s Donald Trump and his cheeseburgers.
Elvis and his peanut butter jelly sandwich.
Ironman and his Whopper.
COQODAQ New York and their $40 chicken nuggets.
I have no class, but I must show off.
I don’t know Jennifer, I think ultimately onigiri is just portable rice.
They put some fancy clothes and make up, and suddenly it’s exciting again.
I’m triggered because I also want a makeover.
I have no compassion, but I must love.
So if you ask me why there’s a market for onigiri now, it’s because people are craving love. Attention. Validation.
Like the riceballs I bought from Ryo’s twenty years ago.
If I queue up and pay money for these ‘home made’ rice balls like how Japanese grandmothers make for their children, maybe some of the love will rub onto me.
Meanwhile, my real grandmother is calling me.
*rejects call*
Don’t despair though, people in Tokyo are also queuing up for 6 hours just to avoid making their own lunch.
Loneliness and laziness are universal.
Onigiri is everywhere because it’s also cheap and easy to make.
So easy.
Ultimately, it’s that same icky feeling when you realised people are cashing in on something pure, like a blind child or a homeless guy with a puppy on the streets, and the despair that ultimately, money wins.
And you can’t really complain about the taste, because, well, it’s not your culture.
But seriously, what do we expect?
Water is free, but people are still paying for it if it’s from Fiji.
So file that under ‘things that hit you as you get older’, Peggy.
Ackshually, is onigiri that ubiquitous?
I remember in college, I was labelled as the guy who tried to chat up Japanese girls.
I was offended.
Because I was trying to chat up ALL girls.
Think about all the banh mi shop, basic AF sandwiches, ohmagawd malatang, filipino dessert, gravy fries, bubble tea, wine bars, Korean fusion. Next to my home, Indonesians have occupied Lygon Street….
You’re guilty because you were paying attention only to the Japanese girls.
Ackshually, onigiri has peaked.
Omurice is the new onigiri.
And trust me when I say unless you grew up with it, no one likes omurice. (See also: spaghetti napolitan.)
It’s ketchup rice with scrambled eggs on top.
Just because it’s slit open in front of you like a hybrid vaginal facehugger, after some ‘ton ton ton’ing to the wrist, doesn’t make it ten times better.
Give me proper fried rice with master stock like Benyue, please.
Give me curry rice.
Give me normal rice with miso soup.
Give me common sense.
I love your writing. I don’t understand much of it, but I love it.✌️