Hana-mi, in Five Easy Steps

My friends—it is officially spring. There is no denying it any longer. Not when I needed sunscreen yesterday and wished I had brought a hat on my walk to go along with my sunglasses. The sun is out, the flowers are in bloom, and if we were in Japan, we’d be planning a hana-mi.

What is a hana-mi?

The literal translation is flower (hana) viewing (miru, or mi), but in Japan flower viewing generally means cherry blossoms. Yes, we’d be planning a cherry blossom viewing party.



This time of year the parks in Japan are filled with friends and families celebrating the cherry blossoms. They sit on the ground under blooming trees and eat, drink, and make merry. They make so much merry that it’s not uncommon for some drunken soul to take off his necktie, wrap it around his head bandana-style, and begin to serenade the group with silly love songs. Don’t think I’m making this up—that so-called Japanese reserve is only so deep. Underneath there is a bawdy sense of humor and a great love of fun.

There’s also a great love of cherry blossoms.

In late March and early April there are cherry blossom updates on the news each night. A map of the country shows the progression of the blooms—starting in the warm south in Okinawa, heading northward as the week progresses, to Kyoto and Tokyo, and finally to cold Hokkaido where the season ends. Parties are planned, people show up in the parks early in the morning to claim a picnic spot. There are festivals and decorations. The Japanese school year starts in April as well, so it is a time of new beginnings, a time of celebration.

Why do the Japanese love cherry blossoms so much?

It has to do with the ephemeral quality of both the blossoms and of life, the fleeting beauty that must be appreciated while we can—at least that's what they tell me. Cherry blossoms are the Japanese national flower so there is a great connection with identity as well; to be Japanese is to appreciate cherry blossoms, though I like to believe that nationality is not a requirement for hana-mi appreciation.



I didn't take much notice of cherry blossoms before I lived in Japan, but while there I couldn’t help but fall in love with the ritual. Those trees are so delicate and lovely, sometimes heartbreakingly so. I made a point to go for as many bike rides as I could during cherry blossom season. Riding through clouds of pale pink petals floating down on the warm breeze was one of those things that made me feel glad to have been born and lived this long just so I could experience something so utterly delightful and entrancing. One dose of that and I never questioned the Japanese reverence for the cherry blossom ever again.



Even now I make a point to stop each year and search out the cherry blossoms. They really are lovely, raining down their pink petals, and to sit or lie underneath the branches, to enjoy such beauty, is always worth the small amount of time and effort involved. Perhaps I stayed in Japan too long—or maybe I am just a sap at heart—but cherry blossoms never fail to make me a bit teary eyed for one reason or another. That fleeting beauty, so pristine and fragile, and over so soon—the Japanese are right, it is worth celebrating.

I’m not in Japan at the moment but I don’t think that should stop me from carrying on the tradition—and neither should it stop you. If you ask me, we should all be celebrating the joy of spring and new beginnings.



But you don’t know how to flower view?

It’s not that difficult. There are a few preparations to undertake, easily accomplished, and soon you’ll be flower viewing with the best of them. In fact, there are only five simple steps for serious Hana-mi aspirants.

1. Set aside some time.
This sounds obvious but it is not. We Americans think we can rush through things so quickly but you need time for quality blossom viewing—time to appreciate the blooms; time to relax and unwind; time to eat and drink; time to joke with your friends; perhaps even time for a nap in the soft sunlight (you have been eating and drinking, after all). Yes, you need a solid afternoon for cherry blossom viewing; a full day is better.

2. Invite others.
While it’s perfectly fine and adequate to observe and appreciate blossoms on your own—and a bike ride through drifting petals is an experience like no other—for the full celebratory ritual you really want someone along. This may be one other special someone—hana-mi can be quite romantic—a group of friends or colleagues, or your entire extended, multi-generational family. Who's going to say no to good food, good fun, and pretty flowers?

3. Find a suitable site.
While all you really need is one cherry tree in bloom and a small patch of grass under it, this is a situation where you can never have too many blooming cherry trees (or other fruit trees, I'm hardly a purist when it comes to flowers).

Search them out in parks, riverbanks, and backyards. They are easy to find this time of year—all puffy and pink. The nature of your site may determine the size and style of your gathering—the more space you have the more people you can invite. But don't think you're constrained or doomed to a lackluster hana-mi for want of a large space. One of the best cherry blossom experiences I had was the spring A. and I discovered the cherry trees around Elk Glen Lake in Golden Gate Park. There are a couple of young trees planted on a hillside covered in tall grass—all of which made for a terribly private and romantic hana-mi for two, concealed in the tall grass with boughs of pink petals arching just overhead. Of course for a larger group you’ll want someplace that looks like this—a perfect hana-mi site:



4. Assemble your gear.
At the very basic, hana-mi is a picnic. All you really need is a blanket, tarp, or other covering to sit on and something to eat and drink. There are those who will get elaborate, of course. I’ve seen hana-mi parties in Japan that included gas-fueled burners over which stewpots boiled (in a public park, no less). I never go that overboard. Cold food is fine, but I do like to have a quality blanket. My favorite was bought a few years back and features a plastic lining underneath—no chance of the damp from wet grass seeping through. Since Americans bring blankets on picnics, and the Japanese bring blue plastic tarps, this is a perfect cross cultural ground covering for someone like me (a.k.a. the culturally confused).



5. Make Chirashi-zushi.
There are plenty of things you can bring to eat at a hana-mi party. Most any picnic food will suffice but I hold out for chirashi-zushi, a confetti-looking mixture of sushi-style rice with assorted vegetables and other ingredients scattered throughout; it’s sushi without the rolling. This is one of my very favorite Japanese dishes—vinegary and slightly sweet, with colorful taste surprises here and there. It’s worth savoring—just like the cherry blossoms.



CHIRASHI-ZUSHI (Scattered Sushi)

Hana-mi may be accomplished in five easy steps, but chirashi-zushi takes a few more. It’s a bit of a project, I will admit, but it’s worth it in the end for the tangy-sweet colorful concoction that looks like a party on your plate.

In all honesty, if we were in Japan we’d most likely buy our chirashi-zushi pre-made at some shop or deli, but the benefit of making my own is that I get to customize it to my taste—picking and choosing the ingredients I like. There are probably a million different recipes for chirashi-zushi, you can add nearly anything you like—vegetables, fish, almost always a cooked egg cut into ribbons. Feel free to adapt it to suit your own tastes.

For the Dashi (soup stock)
Dashi is the soup stock that is the basis for all Japanese cooking. It is possible to use a powdered mix, and many Japanese do, but dashi is not difficult to make at home and requires only two ingredients.

1 piece of konbu seaweed (4-6 inches long)
2 cups katsuo bushi flakes (bonito fish flakes)

Rinse or wipe the konbo and place in a pot with 7 cups of cold water. Add the katsuo (I place a large wire mesh strainer into the pot and put the katsuo in that, so I don’t need to strain the stock later). Simmer for 20-30 minutes, but do not bring to a boil as the konbu will go bitter if you do. When the stock has developed a full flavor, remove the konbu and fish flakes and strain if necessary.



For the Renkon (lotus root)
Pickled renkon is available at Asian markets with a good selection of Japanese foodstuffs, however, if you have access to raw renkon it is not hard to make yourself. Renkon gives the dish a nice crunch—somewhat like jicama, which might be a good substitute if you can't find renkon.

1 small to medium piece of lotus root (renkon), when sliced it should yield 1/2 cup to one cup. Peel and slice into 1/8 inch slices.
6 tbs rice wine vinegar
6 tbs sugar
4 tbs dashi
1 tsp salt



Mix all ingredients for the marinade in a small pot and put to simmer so they dissolve. Add the sliced renkon and simmer for 10-15 minutes, until the starchiness of the renkon disappears, but there is still a crunch to the root (taste it as it goes along to make sure). This can be prepared a day before and stored in the marinade (though take the renkon out until the marinade cools down so the cooking process doesn't continue).

For the Skiitake, Kampyo, and Carrots

6-7 shiitake mushrooms, dried
1 carrot (julienned into tiny matchsticks or cut into flower shapes with a cutter)
15 grams (about 1/2 cup) dried kampyo (gourd)
3 cups dashi
2 tbs soy sauce
2 tbs sugar



When I first saw carrots carved into the shape of spring blossoms I was a little stunned by the over-the-top cuteness and sheer labor intensity of it all (no wonder it’s been hard for a women’s rights movement to develop in Japan, I thought—they’re all too busy carving carrots into flowers!). But I soon discovered that there are cutters made for this sort of thing. Now I have a set myself and on rare occasions I carve my own carrots into the shape of blossoms—right after I read my Ms. Magazine and sign a few petitions in support of the ERA (can you believe it was never fully ratified?).



Put dashi, soy sauce, and sugar in a heavy pot and bring to a simmer. Add shiitake mushrooms and cook for 10 minutes, until fully reconstituted. Add kampyo and simmer for an additional five minutes. Add carrots and simmer for another five minutes, until slightly softened but still firm. Remove the veggies from the broth and slice the shiitake into thin ribbons, cut the kampyo into 1/2 inch strips.



For the Tamago-yaki (grilled egg)

2 eggs
1 tsp sugar
1/2 tsp mirin, sweet rice wine (can be omitted if you don’t have mirin in the house)
1/4 tsp soy sauce (don’t add too much!)

Scramble the eggs in a bowl and add other ingredients. Mix together and pour into a small pan which you have already oiled and set on medium high heat. Rotate the pan so that the egg mixture spreads and cooks evenly. Cook on each side until the eggs have fully set. Remove from pan, let cool, and slice into ribbons. For a larger amount of eggs (or thinner pancakes) cook in two batches.



For the Rice:
3 cups short grain rice (I use Lundberg’s sushi rice)
3 1/2 cups water
pinch of salt

6 tbs rice vinegar
4 tbs sugar
1 tsp salt

Wash the rice in cold water, scrubbing it vigorously until the water runs clear. I find it easiest to put the rice in a mesh strainer and let the water rinse it as I scrub. Traditionally it is done in a bowl and the rice water is changed 2-3 times, but it’s a challenge to pour off the water without losing the grains (and as the old Japanese proverb says—if you waste rice you will go blind).



Put water and rice in a heavy bottomed pot with a tight fitting lid and let soak at least 30 minutes. Add salt, bring water to a boil uncovered, then wrap pot lid in a towel and cover pot (careful not to let the ends near the heat element). Simmer until the rice is just beyond al dente, remove from heat, and let steam for about 10 minutes. For this dish you want the rice just this side of fully cooked.

Mix the vinegar, sugar, and salt in a small saucepan and heat until dissolved and set aside (this can be done in the microwave).

Additional ingredients, as desired:
Sesame seeds
Pickled ginger (beni shoga), add at the last minute as it will gradually color the rice.
Green snow peas, shocked briefly in simmering water and cut into strips
Roasted sheets of nori seaweed, cut into thin strips (can be bought already in confetti-like strips, if desired).

To Assemble the Chirashi-sushi:

Traditionally sushi rice is made in a large, flat bottomed tub made of wood and held together with copper bands. It is called a sushi oke (or hangiri). The shape allows the rice to cool quickly and the unvarnished wood absorbs some of the moisture and keeps it from getting gummy. Since I am out of town and away from my kitchen at the moment—and since the local Japanese market wanted an outrageous $70 for a sushi oke—I decided to improvise and mix my rice on a large wooden cutting board. Whatever you use, try for unfinished wood and wide shape for a quick cool down.

It’s helpful at this point to have someone around to assist you. The rice needs to cool quickly and it is customary to fan it to help the process along (not usually with this sort of a fan, but it was all I had). Trying to mix and fan at the same time is a little like patting your head and rubbing your tummy—possible, but a bit awkward (throw a camera into the mix and it’s quite a challenge—thus no action shots here).



Be careful with mixing the rice, use a cutting motion across at a diagonal and fold over—somewhat like folding whipped eggs whites into a batter. Be gentle, you don’t want to break the rice. Drizzle a little bit of the vinegar mixture over it, fan quickly, and fold carefully. Wait a bit, fanning and folding slowly, and repeat until all the vinegar mixture has been added.



Once all the marinade has been absorbed you should hopefully have rice that is moist and slightly sticky but not gummy and definitely not broken (horror of horrors). The grains should be glossy but individuated and the flavor should be tangy sweet with a hint of salt. Make sure not to eat too much of the rice at this point, it will be tempting.



Begin to slowly fold in your ingredients, careful not to overwork the rice or break your add-ins (the renkon and peas are the most fragile). I like to get a good mix of ingredients throughout, though you might want to leave the ginger on the top only as it will turn the rice pink where it touches it (add this last, or just before serving). You’re going for a good mix of flavors and colors. The whole thing should begin to look a little like a pile of confetti on your rice.



It is awfully pretty.



And yummy too.

While most of the ingredients can be prepared the day before, you want to make and mix the rice the day you plan to eat it. Unless you include fish in your mixture, I wouldn’t bother refrigerating it. This makes great picnic food—all the tangy sweet flavors melding and contrasting with each other.



While making chirashi-zushi is a bit of a commitment, the result is both pretty and delicious. Like hana-mi and cherry blossoms, you've got to enjoy it all you can for soon it will be gone.