fandomhigh | Japanese Art, Friday, Period Two

This week, the classroom's setup hadn't changed all that much from the week before. A low-set table and some cushions to sit on. But instead of paper sitting on the table, there were bowls of soil and mud from various locations around the island, another bowl with water, and a few hand-towels, enough for everybody. In the center of the table, there was a small dish, with several polished spheres sitting on it.

"This week," Nathan said, smirking faintly, "we're going to be polishing dirt."

Polishing dirt, forming glossy spheres out of it, one of those.

"I'm going to preface this class by saying that you won't finish your project in the time we have available today," he continued. "Dorodango - literally 'mud dumpling' - is a project that requires patience. Hours and hours of patience."

So it was probably a testimony to how much spare time Nathan had on his hands that there were like seven of the things on the dish in the middle of the table, right?

"I'm going to take you through the beginning stages this week, though. If anybody is interested in actually finishing their dorodango, they're welcome to leave with a printed copy of the instructions, or just stay after class to continue working on their mud ball up to the resting point."

He reached in to one of the bowls to grab himself a comfortable handful of mud, and started working it in his hands.

"Step one," he said, still looking somewhat amused, "squeeze out the excess water, and work your handful of mud into a sphere."

Get to it, students. You were performing the ancient Japanese children's art of basically making shiny round mud pies. Weren't you glad you took this class?

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"And if something does happen, it isn't as though soil is so difficult to find that you can't start over," Nathan agreed, gesturing with one dirty hand to one of the cushions around the table. "Make yourself comfortable, grab yourself some mud."

Steve sat down and grabbed some mud. "I'm trying to picture my roommate, the futurist's, look of horror at how I'm spending my time."

"What, Tony?" Nathan cracked a fond grin. Steve's Tony wasn't the Tony he knew, but Tonies were going to be Tonies, it seemed. "He'll just have to get over the idea of two old men being old-fashioned in their free time."

Okay, technically Nathan was on the payroll for this. But still.

"He'd probably wonder if we were churning butter or talking about the good ol' days back in the Stone Age," Steve said, grinning back.

"He would be entirely missing that I'm at least old enough to be your grandfather," Nathan replied with a smirk.

There you go, Steve. Now you can stop feeling old.

"That said, it's been a long while since I've had actual butter, churned by hand. Now I'm almost tempted to find a new hobby."

Not that tempted, though.

"You used to churn butter?" Steve said, laughing. "Really?"

"I didn't say that," Nathan replied, laughing as well. "I just said it's been a long time since I've had it. Big difference."

Butter wasn't so much a thing in the mountains of Meiji-era Japan.

"That is a big difference," Steve said. "Bread and butter was lunch most of my childhood, but I didn't churn it myself."

"That said, I'm not opposed to lending a hand with the food now and again, either. Maybe I'll have the class prepare mochi one of these weeks."

Because there was nothing quite like having the students beat the tar out of some rice.

"What's mochi?" Steve asked. "I've had sushi!"

Look how proud he was of that, too.

Hey, it was a good start! At least, it was in Algren's time. It had a long way to go before it reached anything resembling fad status, there.

"Mochi is a kind of cake made out of rice that's been pounded into a paste," Nathan explained. "How are you with a mallet?"

"Not as good as my friend Thor, but all right," Steve replied.

"Well, then we'll definitely have to have you around for that lesson," Nathan decided. "Pulverizing rice into paste in order to make little cakes with it is, if nothing else, therapeutic."

Sometimes you just had to mutilate grain with a large hammer, right?

Please don't destroy the floor, Steve.

"Sounds like fun," Steve said.

Sorry about the floor, Algren.

Japanese Art, Friday, Period Two

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