Japanese Physical Training/2
CHAPTER II
A HEALTHY STOMACH THE BASIS OF ALL STRENGTH—WHAT THE JAPANESE EAT IN SUMMER AND IN WINTER
In the opinion of the samurai of old Japan the first step to the upbuilding of the physical body lay in the direction of choosing a sound, sensible diet. This did not mean a diet in which meats and condiments figured largely. Unlike the Chinese, the Japanese seldom cared for meat, even when they could well afford it. In fact, meat has but little vogue among the natives of Japan to-day.
In 1899 the Emperor appointed a commission to investigate for determination as to whether it would be advisable to take steps that would bring about taller and bulkier physique among his subjects. The Japanese are notably smaller than their brethren of Europe and of America; and the Emperor had a passing notion that his race might be improved through attainment to greater size. One of the questions that his Majesty propounded to the commission was as to whether the successful encouragement of a partial meat diet would be of advantage. The report of the commission, when its long and arduous labours had been completed, was to the efifect that no material advantage could result from increase in height or weight. So far as meat diet went, the commission reported that the Japanese had always managed to do without it, and that their powers of endurance and their athletic prowess exceeded those of any of the Caucasian races. Japan's diet stands on a foundation of rice. This is prepared either by boiling or by steaming. This grain, as it is prepared by a Japanese housewife, bears no resemblance to the sodden mess that is placed occasionally on American tables. The grain comes to the table—which, in Japan, is usually the floor—soft, steaming, and a palatable food that requires no condiments to make it highly acceptable to the stomach. When the rice is boiled it is never stirred. When the rice is steamed it of course requires no stirring. Of late years an attempt has been made to introduce white wheat flour into Japan. While a few of the natives have added this to their diet wheat flour is still unpopular. The Japanese find rice more palatable, more healthful, and productive of greater strength and energy. When these little people crave something in the semblance of bread or cake they make most delicious little "pats" with rice flour as the basis.
In one form or another rice finds its way to the Japanese table—or floor—at every meal. Of late years potatoes have found their way into Japan. These tubers are to be found in the markets of all the large cities, but if the Japanese eat them at all they do so mainly as a matter of curiosity. Rice still continues to take the place of white wheat flour and of potatoes. It is the essential thing in the diet of the people of the "Land of the Rising Sun." When making their phenomenal marches Japanese troops often carry no food except a small bag of rice. When practicable, barley and beans are issued in small quantities, though this is done only for the sake of adding variety to the diet. A small handful of rice thrown into boiling water over the camp-fire furnishes a meal that gives ideal nourishment—that is, the sustenance that brings endurance without reaction.
A traveller approaching the Japanese coast will see so many junks that he cannot be blamed for concluding that every family in the Empire must own at least one of these odd, serviceable craft. There is not a point along the inhabited coast where a fleet of junks is not to be seen. One globe-trotting wag of a naturalist has declared that in the Japanese waters there are forty thousand varieties of fish, all but three kinds of which are edible. He added that there are something more than forty thousand ways of preparing these fish. There are nowhere in the world such prolific fishing-grounds as are to be found around the shores of Japan. The fish are caught in such numbers, and with so little difficulty, that naturally they form an important item in the Japanese diet and apparently with the best of results.
Very often the fish is served raw, either in a natural state or in very mild pickle. When the fish are boiled no condiment but salt is used. Broiled fish is not often met with, but in the wealthier families it is served with a dressing of melted butter. By far the commonest way of preparing fish is first to dry it, and then to boil it with a little salt. Dried fish is served, either with or without boiling, over rice. A bowl of this grain and a handful of fish is considered an ample meal for the coolie who is called upon to perform ten or twelve hours of hard manual toil in a day.
Vegetables and fruits form a most important part in the diet of the Japanese. While rice comes first of all in their estimate of nourishing properties, vegetables play a second part, with fish a good third, and fruit fourth in the scale. With the exception of potatoes the Japanese have an abundance of all the vegetables that grow in the United States. They are fond of lettuce, and especially so at night, their claim being that these green leaves serve excellently as a sedative to the nerves. As nervous disorders are seldom encountered among these little people, their claim is entitled to some respect. Tomatoes and carrots are held in high esteem, and although the Japanese are undoubtedly the most polite people in the world, few of them let a week go by without eating two or three dishes of sliced raw onions. There are some features of the Japanese cuisine that are sure to seem odd to American housewives. While onions are never served in the cooked state—as the Japanese contend that heat destroys their food value—cucumbers are boiled and served hot. Radishes are boiled and offered in a very mild pickle. Celery is served in this same way. Fruit is not often seen at table. It is eaten generally between meals.
Upon first acquaintance a Caucasian who glories in his "three square meals" is not likely to be satisfied with the meals that are served in a Japanese house. A very good idea of the ordinary diet of a Japanese labourer may be gained from the conversation the writer had with a native coal-heaver while visiting a ship in Nagasaki harbor. A coal lighter lay alongside. Native men, women, boys, and girls were working like beavers. The coal was shovelled into baskets, the weight of these loaded baskets running anywhere from thirty to fifty pounds. These baskets were passed up through an open port, the Japanese standing close enough to each other to toss and catch the baskets, which in this manner arrived at their destination in the ship's bunkers. From the chattering and laughter of the heavers one would have fancied that it was all play—but it was downright hard work. At noon word was passed, and all the heavers of both sexes and of all ages clustered on the deck of the lighter. Accompanied by a Japanese friend, I crossed the plank to the coal-laden craft. None of the labourers resented my very evident curiosity as to their noonday hour. Few had begun to eat. Approaching one stalwart-looking little man whom I had already picked out as the Oriental Hercules of the crowd, I asked:
"Have you no food?"
"Oh, yes," he answered smilingly, and held up a little fragment of dingy blue cloth in which something was wrapped. He opened the bundle to display his noonday meal—an apple, a tomato, and an onion.
"Is that all you have to eat?" I asked.
"Why, yes," came his reply. "I would not care to eat more just now. I have five hours more of work to do this afternoon."
"How about your friends here? Have they brought no more to eat than you have done?"
"Perhaps," came the smiling, shrugging response. "They will show you."
A woman near by had in a little tin something like three heaping tablespoonfuls of cooked rice. Another produced from her bundle two raw tomatoes and a thin rice cake of a diameter of a little more than two inches. A child had two similar rice cakes and an apple. And this gives a very fair idea of what these hard-working people found sufficiently nourishing food on which to do five hours more work of coal-passing. Returning to the man whom I had first questioned I inquired:
"What did you eat for breakfast this morning?"
"Oh, something very nice—a bowl of rice with a few little strips of dried fish."
"And what will you eat to-night, when your day's work is done?"
"I do not know. That is for my wife to say. Probably she will give me some boiled fresh fish, some lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and cucumbers or radishes. But it will be dark before we reach home, for as soon as we leave here we shall go to one of the baths. You know we people who handle coal all day long must be very dirty at night."
I inquired of the man if there was not something I could get him from the ship. He replied that he would be very glad to have some water, and handed me a bucket in which to bring it. I returned to the lighter with distilled water that had passed through an icepacked "worm." My man thanked me, took a sip of the water, and spat it overboard.
"Too cold," he remarked. "I will set it in the sun for a little while."
That same evening I had the good fortune to be invited with my native friend to the house of a well-to-do and liberal Japanese merchant. My host, his wife, two sons and a daughter, my friend and myself, seated ourselves in a circle on the floor, while three trim little maids set out before us the evening meal. Just as nearly as I can remember it to-day the menu of the repast ran as follows:
First, a bowl of fragrant tea. The tea was renewed through the meal as often as a bowlful had been consumed. The first dish consisted of a rather tiny bowl of fish chowder. Then came rice, with more fish. With this were served lettuce, tomatoes, and onions, accompanied by boiled cucumbers and celery. A little dish of chopped raw carrot came to each guest. A small dish of some preserved fruit was served with dessert, and, with this, well-browned cakes of rice flour. Still more tea was brought on, and the men lighted cigarettes.
Fearing that my Caucasian tastes in food might not be satisfied, the host asked, early in the progress of the meal, if he should not send one of his people to the hotel for a steak or a cut of roast beef. But the meal was so dainty and appetising that to have tainted it with meat would have seemed like a desecration.
It will be noted in Japan that milk is seldom found in the diet. For this there is a very good reason. The people so seldom use meat that there is no profit in keeping cows. Butter is often met with, but this is usually tinned butter imported from the United States or from Australia. Practically the only difference between winter and summer diets is that in the former the food is used to obtain heat, hence more fish is used in winter. Rice is more frequently served in baked or toasted cakes. The fruits are dried for winter use. Hard-boiled eggs are much eaten as heating food. The amount of food is slightly increased in winter, but at first the beef-eating Caucasian would find any Japanese meal too light. The Japanese believe that at all seasons we eat too much, give the stomach too much work to do, and therefore cannot develop the utmost strength. Undoubtedly they are right; at least they have proved the value of their own system of feeding.
Meat is not used as a heating food even in the coldest days of winter. Neither are potatoes. The Japanese do not heat their houses. If they are cold they dress to meet the requirements of the outside weather. On rare occasions they light hibachi. These are little charcoal stoves that do not add greatly to the heat of a room, and are used principally as a means of lighting pipes or cigarettes. The Japanese do not believe in artificial, external heat as a means to health in cold weather.
Here are sample menus of the food eaten by a healthy adult person in a Japanese family where the cost of living is not a troublesome consideration:
SUMMER
Breakfast.—Fruit, a bowl of rice, a small portion of cooked fresh fish, and a bowl of tea.
Luncheon.—Very often nothing is eaten but fruit, sometimes augmented by a very little rice; or vegetables in small quantity, either alone or with a little rice are taken.
Dinner.—Rice with fresh fish, and two or three vegetables, such as tomatoes, onions, carrots, radishes, celery, lettuce, turnips, cabbage (raw), and spinach either uncooked or boiled. Tea, of course, is part of the meal.
WINTER
Breakfast.—Rice with fresh fish, or more often with dried fish; possibly a hard-boiled egg or two, and browned rice cakes, with tea. Dried fruits, either uncooked or stewed are often served.
Luncheon.—Rice cakes or boiled rice, with stewed fruit and tea.
Dinner.—Boiled rice and fish, stewed dried fruit, hard-boiled eggs, more rice cakes and tea.
This is the diet of the Japanese—the kind of food that kept the samurai in the best of health, in phenomenal strength, and with muscles that defied strains that would be appalling to the average Caucasian. If any hearty eater among the white races believes such a diet would prove weakening, let him try it for a few weeks, and he will discover that his strength is on the increase. Such stomach troubles as indigestion will have disappeared. The man who goes to Japan with a dyspepsia cure, unless he can find trade enough among the foreign residents, is sure to fail.
Since all strength must come primarily from the stomach, the Japanese teacher of jiu-jitsu soon loses all patience with a pupil who is not willing to follow the diet that will give the most force and best tone to his system. This the Japanese diet unquestionably does.