Chyang (Himalayan Rice Wine)
4 cups Jasmine Rice
1 ball Dry Asian Yeast (called Pab or Chanzi), or substitute Koji
5 cups Water
Before starting, wash and sterilize a glass or ceramic gallon-sized jar. Set aside.
Wash and cook your rice as you usually would (water and rice only).
Place a clean garbage bag over a large surface area or table. When the rice is cooked, spread it out over the bag with a rice paddle until it is one, even, shallow layer. Let cool to room temperature.
You want the rice slightly warm so that it will activate the yeast, but not hot where it will kill it.
Crush the yeast ball in a mortar and pestal until it is in a fine powder.
Sprinkle the yeast over the rice in an even layer.
Make sure your hands are cleaned well with hot water and soap before starting. Mash in the yeast with your hands until it is thoroughly mixed in with the rice.
Place the rice mix into the jar and cover with a coffee filter, held in place with a rubberband. Place in a dark, warmish place for 2-3 days to ferment. (Hotter weather, less days- Colder weather, more days). If it starts to look moldy, throw out and start again. This happened to me my first time making it.
When the rice is ready, it will look almost exactly the same, except for a little more condensation in the jar. Once you see that, it's time to add the water. Another day or two could mold.
Open it up and pour in 5 cups of cold water. Stir and place in the refrigerator overnight.
The next day you may pour out and strain the rice wine. You can re-add more water for another batch, but the wine will be diluted the second time. When finished, the rice is often used for animal feed, but can also go into a compost.
Sunday, December 2, 2018
Journal Entry 3
FORGOTTEN TREES
THE EXCITING LIFE AND
UNNOTICED DEATH OF INDIGENOUS FOODS
©2018 Kajsa Alger
Tamang Translation and Cultural Guide: Bhimsen Tamang
Journal 3, lost language
In the Kutch region of Gujarat, India, there is a dialect
that is dying out. After a large
earthquake struck a huge population of native speakers, the Kutchi dialect
started to disappear. Over 25,000 lives
were lost and of them, the majority were Kutchi speakers.
That is over 150 times the amount of Tamang in Tekampur. In 2015, a 7.8 magnitude earthquake hit
Nepal, killing over 8,000 people. The
Tamang areas were severely affected. When you think that in one fell swoop an
entire cultural knowledge, such as language or food, can be eradicated, it
truly hits home. It makes me wonder about all
the things that we don’t even know we’re missing. The things that have already disappeared with a handful of elders and the fading memories of the next generation, growing older themselves.
The Great Grandmother in Tekampur, Amai Rani Tamang, is almost 100 years old. She is the oldest person still alive in the village today. It's said that the whole village here comes from one Great Great Grandfather. A hunter who traveled from Nagarkot, a large city in Central Nepal once run by Kings, to Temal, a small rural village now populated almost entirely with Tamang. I put a note in my notebook to make it to Tekampur while I can still talk to Amai Rani and ask her about the Great Tamang Hunter. When you think about places like Temal and Tekampur, where so much time is taken carrying water to town (up to 3 or 4 hours per day in water transporting), it's not a far stretch of the imagination to understand why trekking for some tree bark would be easily given up for a container of baking powder. Now with water pipelines and wells bringing water, life can be easier. It is all about making life a little bit easier.
Here's a funny story. I know an elderly Ukrainian couple. They moved to the United States later in life. They couldn't believe that you could go to the store and very easily buy peeled potatoes in cans! They had been peeling potatoes their whole life. Even though the canned grocery store version is one of the most unpleasant textures and flavors I've tasted, they were blown away by how easy it was. They bought load and loads of cans and gave them away for Halloween one year (to many a surprised and disappointed child)!
For those of us who grew up in the western world, where things are relatively easy and supplies are plentiful and convenient, it's easy to forget why people would supposedly throw away their heritage and traditions for cheap and easy alternative options. We don't have the daily reminder of carrying buckets of water over steep terrain, and we're not peeling endless pounds of potatoes. Learning to do things for the sake of simply doing them and for the preservation of history, honestly- this is the luxury of a privileged life. Believe me, I struggle with the guilt of telling this story. It feels personal and invasive somehow, like telling of another woman's childbirth . At the same time though, I have a deep love for those foods and ingredients that threaten to silently disappear. I have an admiration for the people and a connection to them and the ancient history held in their fingertips. This story is a self-inflicted responsibility you see. My own bucket of water. My journals fill with the weight of random facts that I'll try to piece together and carry across the terrain of a translated tale. So onward we go, back towards the world of Tekampur and the Tamang people. Tomorrow I make Chyang!
For those of us who grew up in the western world, where things are relatively easy and supplies are plentiful and convenient, it's easy to forget why people would supposedly throw away their heritage and traditions for cheap and easy alternative options. We don't have the daily reminder of carrying buckets of water over steep terrain, and we're not peeling endless pounds of potatoes. Learning to do things for the sake of simply doing them and for the preservation of history, honestly- this is the luxury of a privileged life. Believe me, I struggle with the guilt of telling this story. It feels personal and invasive somehow, like telling of another woman's childbirth . At the same time though, I have a deep love for those foods and ingredients that threaten to silently disappear. I have an admiration for the people and a connection to them and the ancient history held in their fingertips. This story is a self-inflicted responsibility you see. My own bucket of water. My journals fill with the weight of random facts that I'll try to piece together and carry across the terrain of a translated tale. So onward we go, back towards the world of Tekampur and the Tamang people. Tomorrow I make Chyang!
Saturday, November 24, 2018
Journal Entry 2
FORGOTTEN TREES
THE EXCITING LIFE AND UNNOTICED DEATH OF INDIGENOUS FOODS
©2018 Kajsa Alger
Tamang Translation and Cultural Guide: Bhimsen Tamang
Journal 2, Tekampur
Can a tree
be sexy? When the bark shaves off to
reveal a golden peach colored flesh that is soft and pliable, I may argue that
it’s possible. When that piece of tree
is then carried into a village and chopped finely, placed in a bowl of fresh
ground flour and made into a dough where speckles of the color fleck and
shimmer on the surface, I would say most likely. That dough is then made into the perfectly
round fried pastry called Sel Roti, a staple of the indigenous Tamang and
Nepali diet. You may wrap it up and eat
it alone, or dip into some daal or curry.
The tree gives an element of lightness that make the Sel Roti soft and supple. You dip the Roti into the curry and take a
bite. Your senses explode with the
earthy, exotic spices of an age-old comfort food and you realize that yes, a
tree can be sexy.
It is rough
country in Tekampur. The days of farming
or herding are long and physical. The
weather is harsh and there is no hot water in Nepal except for hotels. The traditional Tamang day starts off with a
breakfast of Makai Rhoba. This is a corn
kernel, roasted and popped in a mud pot[1] . Soybeans are also toasted in the
pot and combined with the corn kernels and eaten together with achar and either
tea or Chyang. Chyang is a fermented drink
made by the indigenous peoples of Nepal.
You can find it made with corn where there are Tamang, Gurung, and Magar
tribes. Some Sherpa, Sunuwar and Rai drink as well, but it is less common to
make with corn than rice or barley[2]. A cooked grain is mixed with a dried yeast
and wild herb flora called Chanzi[3]
and then kept in jars or bamboo barrels wrapped with towels for 6 days. Afterwards, the jars are filled with water
and the strained liquid is the Chyang.
The solid product leftover is used for animal feed.
And so, the day begins. For the traditional Tamang, some Makai Rhoba
with achar and a bowl of Chyang. Sel
Roti and Tea are taken to the fields or for the work day. The new generation of younger people in
Tekampur, as in the rest of the world, opt for quicker and easier foods in lieu
of Makai. Gurulachhin Tamang is 5 years
old. He eats biscuits and tea for
breakfast. It is faster and tastes
better[4]. Sel roti is made less and less in the village
because of the time it takes, and someone has introduced baking powder into the
markets. Sel made with Damsing is very
rare now.
[1]
A Mud Pot is a pot that has been coated with mud on the bottom and outside so that after cooking over open fire and flame, it can be washed easily.
[2]
Chyang is
often made with rice, barley, or millet.
The method is the same but corn is also used by the Tamang.
[3]
I have
heard both the words Marcha and Murcha used for this as well. The Tibetans call it Pab.
[4]
The
original Tamang translation of this was “tasty and quick”. The biscuits are British biscuits, as in
cookies.
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