Reflecting Through Verbalization: Goes with Rice, Goes with Alcohol. — The 'Tension and Resolution', 'Resonance and Amplification' of Taste

The other day, I read an article by Shizuki Yamashita titled 'Four Thousand Years of Karaage'.

It is an article written about the differences between Japanese karaage and authentic Chinese-style fried chicken, 'Zha Ji'.

Japanese karaage is seasoned with soy sauce and garlic, and overflows with meat juices when you bite into it.
On the other hand, Zha Ji uses spices like five-spice powder even in the batter, and is fried until it is crispy and fragrant.

And Yamashita-san expressed the difference between these two using some very interesting words.

However, immediately after that, it continues with,

and so on.

Reading this, I was completely hooked lol

Even though they are both dishes made by frying chicken, why does one call for white rice while the other calls for alcohol?

If it's Japanese karaage, after eating one piece, you want white rice.
However, when I imagine Chinese fried chicken with strong spices, I certainly feel like I'd want a sip of Shaoxing wine rather than white rice. (I only know about Ji Pai, so this is just my imagination from there 💦)

What is this difference?

The first thing I thought about was the chicken meat itself.

For example, chicken breast is blander and has less fat compared to thigh meat.
Even in Japan, if you just make karaage with breast meat, it's harder to get that 'juicy' feeling compared to thigh meat.

So, isn't the compatibility with white rice also related to the fat in the meat?
That's where I started thinking.

However, in Japan, there is Chicken Nanban.
If you let the breast meat soak up sweet vinegar and add tartar sauce, it becomes a magnificent side dish for white rice.
Even Toriten (chicken tempura) goes well with rice if you pair it with vinegar soy sauce or ponzu.

It seems that,

“It doesn't go with rice because it's breast meat.”

does not seem to be the case.

Rather, because breast meat is bland,

It may be an ingredient that can be cultivated in any way depending on what you put on top of it.

Perhaps.

So, what did Japanese cuisine put on top of the chicken breast, and what did Chinese cuisine put on it?
While thinking about such things, the question itself changed a little.

In the first place, what do we mean by

'goes with rice'?

I like pickled plums and white rice.
If you put only the pickled plum in your mouth,

It's sour.
It's salty.

It's a quite strong flavor.

Then you put white rice in your mouth.
Then, the strong sourness and saltiness begin to unravel.
From beyond that, the subtle sweetness of the rice emerges.

It is precisely because I ate the pickled plum that the white rice is sweet.
It is precisely because I ate the white rice that I want to go back to the pickled plum once more.

This back-and-forth itself is delicious.

Come to think of it, there are many similar dishes.

Salted salmon.
Pickles.
Kinpira burdock.
Grilled meat.
Fried chicken.

All of them become a slightly different kind of deliciousness when eaten with rice compared to when eaten alone.

White rice doesn't just dilute the flavor.
White rice itself also has a proper flavor.
A gentle sweetness you feel while chewing.

Therefore, this is

not a relationship of

'strong flavor + flavorless thing',

but rather a different kind of deliciousness is born when two flavors are combined.

It might be close to what is called a marriage in wine.

I once thought that cooking and music might be a little similar.

For example, kinpira gobo (braised burdock root).

Burdock is the bass.
Soy sauce is the middle note.
Sesame oil is the top note.

Ingredients and seasonings that handle different ranges overlap to become a single dish.

So, when you add white rice to that, what is the white rice doing?

That is when I thought of the "tonic" in music.
The tonic is the place where the song returns.
Even if a tense sound continues, you feel at ease when you return there.

Of course, cooking and music do not operate on the same principles.

But,

Pickled plum.
White rice.

Grilled meat.
White rice.

Kinpira.
White rice.

In that back-and-forth at the dining table,

somewhere,

there is tension, and then resolution.

there is that kind of feeling.

White rice is complete on its own.
If it is freshly cooked, it is delicious enough just like that.

However, the white rice you eat after a pickled plum feels a little different from the white rice you eat without having eaten anything else.

The side dish makes the white rice delicious, and
the white rice makes the side dish delicious.

White rice might be

a place where the sense of taste returns

to.

Tamago kake gohan (egg over rice) is also interesting.

Drinking raw egg alone doesn't really feel like a dish. Licking soy sauce alone isn't delicious either.

However,

raw egg + soy sauce + white rice

suddenly becomes a single dish.

The texture of the rice grains catches the raw egg, the soy sauce adds saltiness and umami, and the sweetness of the rice brings it all together.

Sushi rice is similar.

Vinegar. Salt. Sugar.

When you think about it,

pickled plum (umeboshi) + white rice

has a very similar flavor structure.

The sweetness of the white rice catches the acidity and saltiness.

The difference is that with pickled plum, they meet in your mouth, whereas with sushi rice, they are made to meet within the rice from the start.

Even more mysterious is mochi (rice cake).

You don't often hear of people putting sugar and soy sauce on regular white rice.

However, when it comes to mochi (rice cakes),

sugar soy sauce,
sweet red bean paste,
kinako (roasted soybean flour) and sugar.

the compatibility with sweet things suddenly improves.

Ohagi (sweet rice balls) are the same.

If you just cook regular non-glutinous rice and put sweet red bean paste on it, it's somehow different.
As soon as a little glutinous rice is added, it instantly becomes 'ohagi'.

Glutinous rice has stickiness.
Because of that stickiness, the rice and the red bean paste do not exist separately, but are connected as a single texture.

Perhaps,

stickiness has the power to embrace sweetness

might be the case.

White rice is good at going back and forth between side dishes.
Glutinous rice is good at embracing other flavors and becoming one with them.

Even though they are both rice, it seems they have different strengths in 'how to pair'.

Now, let's return to the Chinese fried chicken and Shaoxing wine from the beginning.

Fried chicken with strong spices is already quite complete on its own.

The umami of the meat.
Oil.
Saltiness.
The fragrance of the batter.
And the complex spices.

Then, you pair it with Shaoxing wine.

Shaoxing wine also has a complex taste and aroma on its own.

Pairing something complete with something else that is complete.
You would think they would clash, but for some reason, they go well together.

Perhaps a different phenomenon than with white rice is occurring here.

The savory smell of fried food.
The gorgeous aroma of spices.
The aged, complex aroma of Shaoxing wine.

Rather than canceling each other out,

aromas in a similar direction overlap, sounding even louder.

In musical terms, it is not a return from tension to tonic.
It is another instrument joining the same chord, making the resonance thicker.

This is,

tension and resolution

rather than,

resonance and amplification

I think.

Thinking about it that way,

"goes with rice"

and

"goes with alcohol"

might be slightly different phenomena, even though they use the same word "goes with."

Compatibility with rice is,

tension and resolution.

Eat a strong-flavored side dish.
Return to white rice.
Go back to the side dish again.

That back-and-forth creates a single meal.

On the other hand, compatibility with alcohol is,

resonance and amplification.

The aroma of the dish and
the aroma of the alcohol overlap.

When these two completed elements meet,
a resonance is born that did not exist in either alone.

Of course, actual meals are not that simple.

There is likely resonance between rice and side dishes as well,
and alcohol can also help balance out greasiness.

However,

Tension and resolution.

Resonance and amplification.

By adopting these two perspectives,

the question of 'why does this make me want rice, and why does this make me want alcohol?'

which until now was only a matter of intuition, feels like it has become a little more visible.

And now, returning to Mr. Yamashita's article.

Why does Japanese fried chicken call for white rice,
while Chinese fried chicken with spices calls for Shaoxing wine?

Perhaps it is not a difference in the perfection of the dish.

The way the song is composed is different.

Japanese fried chicken creates a single phrase that includes the return to white rice.

Chinese fried chicken
plays a song on its own,
and when another song called Shaoxing wine is layered on top,
it creates an even greater resonance.

Dishes, too, may have chord progressions.

And perhaps at our daily dining tables, we are choosing that resonance without even realizing it.