It's Not as World-Famous as Ramen or Sushi. But The Humble Onigiri Is Soul Food in Japan

A variety of onigiri, rice balls, are seen on a plate at a Taro Tokyo Onigiri shop in Tokyo, on June 5, 2024. (AP Photo/Shuji Kajiyama)
A variety of onigiri, rice balls, are seen on a plate at a Taro Tokyo Onigiri shop in Tokyo, on June 5, 2024. (AP Photo/Shuji Kajiyama)
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It's Not as World-Famous as Ramen or Sushi. But The Humble Onigiri Is Soul Food in Japan

A variety of onigiri, rice balls, are seen on a plate at a Taro Tokyo Onigiri shop in Tokyo, on June 5, 2024. (AP Photo/Shuji Kajiyama)
A variety of onigiri, rice balls, are seen on a plate at a Taro Tokyo Onigiri shop in Tokyo, on June 5, 2024. (AP Photo/Shuji Kajiyama)

The word “onigiri” became part of the Oxford English Dictionary this year, proof that the humble sticky-rice ball and mainstay of Japanese food has entered the global lexicon.
The rice balls are stuffed with a variety of fillings and typically wrapped in seaweed. It's an everyday dish that epitomizes “washoku” — the traditional Japanese cuisine that was designated a UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage a decade ago, The Associated Press said.
Onigiri is “fast food, slow food and soul food,” says Yusuke Nakamura, who heads the Onigiri Society, a trade group in Tokyo.
Fast because you can find it even at convenience stores. Slow because it uses ingredients from the sea and mountains, he said. And soul food because it's often made and consumed among family and friends. No tools are needed, just gently cupped hands.
“It’s also mobile, food on the move,” he said.
Onigiri in its earliest form is believed to go back at least as far as the early 11th Century; it's 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 the farmers.
What exactly goes into onigiri? The sticky characteristic of Japanese rice is key.
What's placed inside is called “gu,” or filling. A perennial favorite is umeboshi, or salted plum. Or perhaps mentaiko, which is hot, spicy roe. But in principle, anything can be placed inside onigiri, even sausages or cheese.
Then the ball is wrapped with seaweed. Even one nice big onigiri would make a meal, although many people would eat more.
Some stand by 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 for her husband, Miura's grandfather. It claims to be the oldest onigiri restaurant in Tokyo.
There are just two tables. The counter has eight chairs. Takeout is an option, but you still have to stand in line.
“Nobody dislikes onigiri,” said Miura, smiling behind a wooden counter. In a display case before him are bowls of gu, including salmon, shrimp and miso-flavored ginger. “It’s nothing special basically. Every Japanese has 100% eaten it."
Also a classical flautist, Miura sees onigiri as a score handed down from his grandmother, one which he will reproduce faithfully.
“In classical music, you play what’s written on the music sheet. Onigiri is the same,” he says. “You don’t try to do something new.”
Yadoruku is tucked away in the quaint old part of Tokyo called Asakusa. It opens at 11:30 a.m. and closes when it runs out of rice, usually within the 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). That includes miso soup. No reservations are taken.
Although onigiri can be round or square, animal or star-shaped, Miura’s standard is the triangular ones. He makes them to order, right before your eyes, taking just 30 seconds for each.
He places the hot rice in triangular molds that look like cookie cutters, rubs salt on his hands and then cups the rice — three times to gently firm the sides. The crisp nori, or seaweed, is wrapped like a kerchief around the rice, with one end up so it stays crunchy.
The first bite is just nori and rice. The gu comes with your second bite.
“The Yadoroku onigiri will not change until the end of Earth,” Miura said with a grin.
Others want to experiment Miyuki Kawarada runs Taro Tokyo Onigiri, which has four outlets in Japan. She is eyeing Los Angeles, too, and then Paris. Her vision: to make onigiri “the world’s fast food.”
The name Taro was chosen because it’s common, the Japanese equivalent of John or Michael. Onigiri, she says, has mass appeal because it's simple to make, is gluten-free and is versatile.
And other Japanese foods like ramen and sushi have found worldwide popularity, she notes.
At her cheerful, modern shop, workers wearing khaki-colored company T-shirts busily prepare the gu and rice balls in a kitchen visible behind the cash register. The shop only serves takeout.
Kawarada’s onigiri has lots of gu on top, for colorful toppings, instead of inside. Each one comes with a separately wrapped piece of nori to be placed around it right before you eat.
Her gu gets adventurous. Cream cheese is mixed with a pungent Japanese pickle called "iburigakko,” for instance, and each onigiri costs 250 yen ($1.60). Spam and egg onigiri costs 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 don’t get tied down in tradition,” said Kawarada.
The customers Asami Hirano, who stopped in 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 a few times before and thinks it’s a good deal. “It’s simple food,” he said.
Miki Yamada, a food promoter, intentionally calls onigiri “omusubi,” the other common word for rice balls, because the latter more clearly refers to the idea of connections. She says her life's mission is to bring people together, especially since the triple earthquake, tsunami and nuclear disasters hit her family's rice farm in Fukushima, northeastern Japan, in 2011.
“By facing up to omusubi, I have encountered a spirituality, a basic Japanese-ness of sorts,” she said.
There is nothing better, she said, than plain Aizu rice omusubi with a pinch of salt and utterly nothing inside.
“It energizes you. It’s that ultimate comfort food,” she said.



'Social Studies' TV Series Takes Intimate Dive into Teens' Smartphone Life

This is the first generation born into a world with widespread social media. LOIC VENANCE / AFP/File
This is the first generation born into a world with widespread social media. LOIC VENANCE / AFP/File
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'Social Studies' TV Series Takes Intimate Dive into Teens' Smartphone Life

This is the first generation born into a world with widespread social media. LOIC VENANCE / AFP/File
This is the first generation born into a world with widespread social media. LOIC VENANCE / AFP/File

Sifting through the smartphones of dozens of US teens who agreed to share their social media content over the course of a year, filmmaker Lauren Greenfield came to a somber observation.
The kids are "very, very conscious of the mostly negative effects" these platforms are having on them -- and yet they just can't quit.
Greenfield's documentary series "Social Studies," premiering on Disney's FX and Hulu on Friday, arrives at a time of proliferating warnings about the dangers of social networks, particularly on young minds.
The show offers a frightening but moving immersion into the online lives of Gen Z youths, AFP said.
Across five roughly hour-long episodes, viewers get a crash course in just how much more difficult those thorny adolescent years have become in a world governed by algorithms.
In particular, the challenges faced by young people between ages 16 and 20 center on the permanent social pressure induced by platforms like Instagram and TikTok.
For example, we meet Sydney, who earns social media "likes" through increasingly revealing outfits; Jonathan, a diligent student who misses out on his top university picks and is immediately confronted with triumphant "stories" of those who were admitted; and Cooper, disturbed by accounts that glorify anorexia.
"I think social media makes a lot of teens feel like shit, but they don't know how to get off it," says Cooper, in the series.
'Like me more'
This is the first generation born into a world with widespread social media.
Via its subjects' personal smartphone accounts, the show offers a rare glimpse into the ways in which that hyper-connected reality has distorted the process of growing up.
We see how young people modify their body shapes with the swipe of a finger before posting photos, the panic that grips a high school due to fake rumors of a shooting.
"It's hard to tell what's been put into your mind, and what you actually like," says one anonymous girl, in a group discussion filmed for the docuseries.
These discussion circles between adolescents punctuate "Social Studies," and reveal the contradictions between the many young people's online personas, and their underlying anxieties.
Speaking candidly in a group, they complain about harassment, the lack of regulation on social media platforms, and the impossible beauty standards hammered home by their smartphones.
"If I see people with a six pack, I'm like: 'I want that.' Because maybe people would like me more," admits an anonymous Latino boy.
'Lost your social life'
The series is not entirely downbeat.
But the overall sense is a generation disoriented by the great digital whirlwind.
There are no psychologists or computer scientists in the series.
"The experts are the kids," Greenfield told a press conference this summer. "It was actually an opportunity to not go in with any preconceptions."
While "Social Studies" does not offer any judgment, its evidence would appear to support many of the recent health warnings surrounding hyper-online young people.
The US surgeon general, the country's top doctor, recently called for warning labels on social media platforms, which he said were incubating a mental health crisis.
And banning smartphones in schools appears to be a rare area of bipartisan consensus in a politically polarized nation.
Republican-led Florida has implemented a ban, and the Democratic governor of California signed a new law curbing phone use in schools on Monday.
"Collective action is the only way," said Greenfield.
Teenagers "all say 'if you're the only one that goes off (social media), you lost your social life.'"