THE FRUIT OF HARMONY – WAGASHI

Dear friends,

would you like to become an artist for a moment? Yes? Then allow yourselves to be invited into the world of Japanese wagashi. A small piece of confection will become your very own creation.

We often struggle to define what art actually is. According to Otto’s Encyclopaedia, art is “a deliberate act of creating or performing whose result stands out among other works and achievements by possessing a certain value simply through contemplation and perception — that is, aesthetic value.” Encyclopaedia Britannica defines art as “the use of skill and imagination in the creation of aesthetic objects, environments, or experiences that can be shared with others.” So what do you think — can wagashi be art? I argue that yes, they can. For me, wagashi belong to the world of omotenashi — Japanese hospitality elevated into art. Wagashi are an inseparable part of the art of the Japanese tea ceremony. I like the idea that art is created whenever a person considers their act of making to be art and gives themselves to it — in joy as well as in struggle. In the creative process, an important moment is when the artist feels like throwing everything aside. Anything that comes without effort somehow lacks true value.

The most elegant type of wagashi often used in the tea ceremony is called gyūhi — confection made from pure white bean paste brought to perfection and formed into beautiful shapes. Transforming beans into a piece of beauty is demanding. Nevertheless — or perhaps because of this — I wholeheartedly invite you to try working with this soft, pliable material, which is inexpensive if you make it yourself. The recipe awaits you at the end of the article. Of course, you can also rely on us — we will prepare the paste for you. One great advantage is that you can always eat your creation. And you will enjoy it. And if you then drink a bowl of whisked green matcha, your piece will receive the highest praise.

It is said that proper wagashi sacrifice themselves to the matcha tea. Japanese confectionery artists who craft pieces for tea masters even compare the destiny of their sweets to the devotion of a samurai to his lord. The sweet is eaten before you drink the tea; in that moment it is alive and impactful. Powerful. Yet it remains beautiful only for a brief, fleeting instant — then it willingly yields its value to the tea. That is why they say it sacrifices itself. When the tea lover drinks their bowl of tea, they should forget the sweet and devote themselves entirely to the tea alone. Many types of wagashi are created from the essence of beans: if they are white beans, shiroan; if red azuki beans, azukian. The bean essence shines with its gentle taste and then quickly fades on the palate — just as it should. Imagine — especially those who drink matcha regularly — that you would first eat a buttery, creamy cake and then drink matcha. The flavours would inevitably clash, because butter does not give up easily. Butter does not sacrifice itself. Butter persists.

What does the word wagashi mean? “Wa” 和 is a character that represents a constellation in which diverse things exist in harmony. Wa is the desire for harmony. The character contains a little square that independently means “mouth” — perhaps suggesting that harmony is nourishing. It tastes good. It satisfies. It enriches. “Wa” is also used to denote all things Japanese — hence wagashi means Japanese confectionery. Yōgashi 洋菓子, or more precisely seiyōgashi西洋菓子, means Western-style sweets. The term yōgashi says nothing about harmony or beauty — only where those other goodies come from. Kashi 菓子 — pronounced gashi when joined with wa — refers to the confection itself: sweets, treats, little cakes, prepared with care and skill. The character kashi is made of two parts: the first, “ka,” means fruit — a kind of “fruit of creativity.” The second, “shi,” means child. Isn’t that lovely? When you create your wagashi, play with the paste and nurture it like a little baby — with love and admiration. Under your care, a wa-gashi-chan will be born. A fruit of harmony.

Wa, meaning harmony, is the first of the four foundational pillars of the Japanese tea ceremony (Sadō or Chanoyu): Wa, Kei, Sei, Jaku — Harmony, Respect, Purity and Tranquillity. Who would not long for peace: peace of the soul, peace with others, peace with all creation? Wa, Kei, Sei, Jaku describe the ideal actions and attitudes of a host and guests who share themselves with one another, give themselves to the moment and environment, and seek beauty and the secrets of life — secrets that invite them to serve others with a pure desire to experience and transmit beauty. I believe such desire creates love.

Just as the origins of tea drinking were an expression of celebrating life and seeking its deeper meaning, the beginnings of wagashi also lie in welcoming and honouring deities. Wagashi served as a means of communication between human imagination and the divine. Seasonal celebrations were — and often still are — accompanied by wagashi of specific shapes, flavours and fragrances, often carrying a story and poetic name. Important milestones in human life are also linked to typical wagashi — such as the Girls’ Festival Ohinasama with its pink-white-green diamond-shaped hishimochi, or the Boys’ Festival Tango no Sekku with chimaki mochi wrapped in bamboo leaves.

It is no coincidence that so many Japanese wagashi resemble flowers. Flowers are delicate, transient, and yet possess great mysterious power. In Japan — and I believe not only there — people imagine that flowers connect our world with the one we cannot grasp, the world of our ancestors and our future. Flowers help us recall the words: “May all beings be happy.”
Take your time and create. Shape your own wa-gashi-chan as you wish. I hope that it brings you joy.

Yours,
Miyabi Darja

Promised recipe:

Buy ordinary white beans and extract their essence. Extracting the essence of anything is never simple — and it’s the same with beans. First, heat the beans until they allow themselves to be peeled. Boil them repeatedly, always starting in cold water. Then peel them one by one — perhaps while watching television. It takes time. Afterwards, cook them until very soft so they can be strained. But be careful — do not burn them! Beans absorb the taste and smell of everything they come into contact with. Even the slightest scorching spreads like a malignant plague. Pour water over the strained, smooth paste and let it settle. Repeat the process — even ten times — until the water remains clear. You will have washed away everything that stands in the way of purity. When you squeeze the mixture through cloth and obtain a bean “powder,” you are halfway there. Place it in a spacious pot, ideally non-stick, and add sugar — lots of sugar — about the same amount as the beans. Put on heat and stir and stir and stir. Do not stop for even a moment. When your right hand begins to ache, stir with your left. After thirty to forty minutes, when both hands are weak, the paste should be ready. It will have the consistency not of flowing lava but of pliable bean clay that neither dries out nor turns rock-hard. It is smooth. Be sure not to let even a tiny bit burn on the bottom. Do not answer the phone. Do not step away. Just keep stiring. The effort is worth it — you will obtain a wonderfully edible material that smells and tastes of nothing but its own purity. You will have extracted the best of the bean — its essence.
Then you may set your imagination free. Prepare food colourings and small spatulas, or simply wrap the paste in cloth and shape it. What a moment earlier was mere bean paste will transform into a little rabbit, a tulip, a camellia, or a sea wave. And many other things. I wish you much joy in your creativity!