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The kitchen functions are divided between those performed in one corner of the doma and those done on the raised floor. A short step away from the raised floor is a plastered clay stove, or kamado. It is a model of fuel efficiency, built in place by specialized craftsmen out of adobe clay and made to order in any size, shape, or capacity. Shinichi’s stove is a fairly standard-sized one that has been in use for over fifty years. Shaped somewhat like a bean when seen from above, it is about knee high and is used in a crouching position.
This one has two fireboxes, one large and one small, each custom-fitted with a lidded iron pot. The largest is for rice, and while the others can be used for rice, they are more often used for vegetables and stews, as well as for steamed items. Each is independently fueled using scavenged wood and fallen branches. Straw, broken wooden implements, cloth, and charcoal can be used as well, but for the most part cooking with one of these stoves involves close monitoring of the fire, feeding it new sticks and twigs at frequent intervals. The time and attention required are more than compensated for by the economy of fuel use.
The other kitchen area is tucked against the rear wall of the raised floor area. Its main feature is a wooden sink, built into the floor and used from a seated position. The sink, set in front of a small, slatted window, is made of wooden planks carefully fitted together with joints tight enough to prevent leakage. Shinichi’s mother crouches over it, scrubbing a large white radish. She takes water from a large earthenware jug, fitted with a lightweight wooden lid. The water is drawn out with a wooden ladle, and the jug is replenished as needed from the well outside. A drain spout protrudes from one corner of the sink through the exterior wall below the window; from there it drips into a narrow, stone-lined channel and, like overflow from the well, flows as waste-water into the pond. This wastewater contains dirt and organic matter from vegetables and other foodstuffs, but nothing in the way of soap or toxic chemicals. Little that resembles soap is used, in fact, with rice hulls and other gentle abrasives being preferred for most purposes, so the wastewater is fairly clean.
The kitchen is equipped with a variety of storage shelves, but there are only a few dishes and cooking implements. Good durable dishes must be purchased from specialized craftsmen, such as potters and woodturners, and like most farm families, Shinichi’s tries to use only what they can make themselves, minimizing cash expenditures. Each family member has a bowl, a cup, homemade spoons and chopsticks, and little else. On the other hand, durable storage jars are considered worth the expense of purchase.
The family eats very little meat or poultry, and they consume their vegetables either fresh or preserved by drying or pickling in brine. Indeed, the variety of pickling techniques is awe inspiring. The kitchen has several large, lidded pickling jars, each containing a different item: radishes, plums, cucumbers, cabbage, and more. A number of these have been actually buried in the floor with just the lids protruding in order to take advantage of natural cooling. There are similar but smaller jars for miso, soy sauce, and cooking oil. Rice for daily use is stored in a finely constructed oblong wooden box with a close-fitting lid.
from the unclean to the clean
A low, thick beam called the agarikamachi, or “stepping-up sill,” marks the edge of the raised floor. Polished and worn from generations of physical contact, it is the ideal height for sitting, and it forms a clear demarcation line between the “unclean” doma, where outdoor footwear is worn, and the “clean” house proper, where wearing shoes is taboo. Our initial impression of the hiroma, or “big room,” is one of dark wood and bamboo. Open at the entrance, the hiroma is bounded to our right by the kitchen wall and shelves, and to the left by wide sliding doors that open onto the veranda. The far wall is a solid one, framed with smoke-blackened wooden boards. We slip off our footwear, and follow Shinichi in stepping up onto the floor.
The floor is made of thick, wide hardwood planks. No coating was applied as a finish, but generations of hand rubbing and contact with bare and slippered feet have rendered them black and shiny, and we can clearly see the light from the wide sliding doors reflected in the floor. The hiroma of many houses have no ceilings and are bound overhead only by the roughly hewn crisscrossed logs that serve as roof beams. But the bamboo ceiling of this particular room lends it a rustic dignity and delicacy, almost as if a simple lean-to has been erected inside the house. Transformed as it has been by long exposure to smoke, the bamboo reflects a warm russet light. This room is stark, resonant, robust, cool, and aromatic.
It is also well appointed. What appear at first glance to be solid walls are in fact sliding panels concealing capacious storage space, and upon closer inspection we can see that a few of these are actually movable, modular storage units that fit perfectly into wall openings and recesses. The thick, horizontal framing that surrounds the room at the height of the doorways supports shelves of various widths, upon which are stacked containers and household implements, boxes and baskets.
The most prominent shelf is a spiritual one: the kami-dana, or “god-shelf,” that bears a miniature Shinto shrine as well as votives and offerings for the gods of nature. There is also a simple, large recess in the wall in front of us, the oshi-ita, which is decorated with paper talismans. Together the kami-dana and oshi-ita transform the entire space into a place of devotion and spiritual significance, a place in which residents and visitors are constantly reminded that nature and the spirits by whose will all was created are the true center of life, and man is allowed to dwell here only with their permission.
The center of life in the house is the unassuming firepit, the irori—a square recess in the floor of this main room. It serves as a cooking facility, where pots of stew or gruel can be hung to cook, and fish and vegetables can be roasted on skewers. Other treats can be toasted over this fire as well, though rice and most rice dishes are better prepared on the kamado. The firepit is the information and communication center of the house. It commands a view of the doma as well, allowing someone seated here, usually the matron of the household, to witness all comings and goings and to monitor and direct all activity. We’ve arrived just as Shinichi and his family are finishing their midday meal. The cast-iron stew pot has been replaced by one for boiling water for tea, suspended over the embers by an adjustable hook. As Misaki and her mother-in-law bustle about the kitchen area, other members of the household lounge comfortably on woven straw mats, some sprawled on the cool floor in hopes of catching a short nap. All told, there are six people, an average number for a farm of this size.
Shinichi is the head of the household and is in his thirties. He grew up in this house, which was built by his grandfather on land obtained by his great-grandfather. As his name indicates, he is the eldest son of his deceased father, Shin. His wife, Misaki, who is a few years younger, grew up in a neighboring village; their marriage was an arranged one. The matron of the household, however, is Shinichi’s mother, who is over fifty years old and therefore quite elderly. Though she defers to her daughter-in-law in many matters, this is her domain and the place where she spends most of her day.
The couple has two children, the boy of twelve who had first noticed our arrival, and a girl of ten. Misaki was pregnant twice since, and while both came to term, they were “sent back” by the midwife at birth. While not explicitly prohibited, large families are strongly discouraged by social norms, and adequate resources for all can only be provided if the population growth of the village is inhibited. This is also the reason the sixth member of the household, Shinichi’s younger brother Tsuyoshi,
