To most Pacific
Northwesterners, the long black grains of Wild Rice (Zizania palustris) are known only from exotic rice blends or the
specialty food section of grocery stores, not as a part of the local flora or cuisine.
Here in the Salmon Nation (to borrow from Gary Paul Nabhan) we have a plethora
of protein, but starch is scarce and grains are all but absent from the
ethnographic record. Not so for other parts of the continent. In the Great
Lakes region, Wild Rice is such an integral part of the Indigenous food system,
that Nabhan calls the area the “Wild Rice Nation,” Winnona LaDuke successfully advocated
for Wild Rice to be included in the Slow Food “Arc of Taste,” and
ethnoecologists Nancy Turner and Ann Garibaldi would consider Wild Rice a “Cultural
Keystone Species.”
I got my first glimpse
of Wild Rice culture from Anishinabe elder Joe Rose while attending Northland
College in Northern Wisconsin. Sitting in a wigwam at Waverly Beach on the
south shore of Lake Superior, I listened to Joe’s deep soothing voice as he
told the migration story of his people who journeyed from the east to a
prophesized land “where food grows on water.” When his ancestors landed at
Waverly Beach and saw the golden beds of Wild Rice in the Kakagon Slough, they
knew they had arrived at their new homeland. The Anishinabe continue to harvest
this sacred food called minoomin, as
do a few more recent settlers.
I think it was Jim
Meeker, my major professor, who gave me my first taste of the nutty brown rice.
As a doctoral student Jim explored wild rice ecology and quickly developed a
fondness for the grain. He has returned to the same beds for decades to harvest
enough to eat and share with friends and students throughout the year. Wild Rice has also been
a staple for my friend Sam Thayer, and I’ll never forget our first wild food
thanksgiving we had together at his cabin in Bayfield County, or the first time
he took me ricing and taught me how to “knock” rice and “pole” the canoe. It is
in the spirit of these people that I recently began harvesting my own rice and
though the geography is distant and history somewhat novel, the ecology and
technique are similar.
Short History of Wild
Rice in the Pacific Northwest
Nobody knows for sure when
Wild Rice first arrived in the Pacific Northwest, but early plantings in
eastern Washington and the northern Idaho date back to the early 1900s. A 1918
article in the Spokane
Daily Chronicle proclaims “Plant wild rice and it will grow,” and relays
the personal experience of C.B. Spraque who cultivated wild rice in Spokane County
WA, just downstream of Lake Coeur d’Alene. Nearly a decade later, the first
herbarium collection of Wild Rice west of the Rockies was made at the south end
of Lake Coeur d’Alene. However, official sources in Idaho variously claim that
Lake Coeur d’Alene rice was planted as early as the 1930s and as late as the
1960s (IDFG
1999).
Al Bruner probably knows
more about rice in this region than anyone else. While working for the Idaho
Department of Fish and Game, Bruner said, “The wild rice was originally planted
along the Coeur d’Alene River in the 1930s and ‘40s by a local duck hunting
club interested in improving waterfowl habitat.” The rice didn’t thrive until
the state department tried a new seed strain they purchased from a Wisconsin
Nursery. “We planted this strain in 1966 and ’67 and it’s thrived ever since,”
Bruner told the Spokesman Review (9/22/1979).
Bruner retired from the Idaho Department of Fish and Game and in 1982 helped
start a business called the St. Maries Wild Rice Company that began
commercially harvesting the rice with air boats and continues to do so today.
This patch has over 100 acres of rice |
Katrina and I stumbled upon the expansive rice beds around Lake Coeur d’Alene last year and vowed to return to try and harvest some ourselves. With some time set aside this September for the trip, I began calling around to arrange logistics and secure equipment. The Idaho Department of Fish and Game assured me that no permit was needed for non-commercial harvest of the grain from lands that they manage. A friend let me borrow his canoe, my landlord loaned me a huge tarp, and a local feed store gave me some old grain sacks. I didn’t have a wooden pole to propel the canoe through the rice, so I modified a 14’ fiberglass pole-saw shaft. Lastly I carved two sets of rice knockers from clear vertical grain Western Red Cedar. The big risk was going to be the ripeness of the rice. Would we drive all the way to Idaho only discover that the rice wasn’t ready?
My Manoomin-knockers in three stages of completion |
The end of our first successful evening ricing |
The harvest
With the canoe loaded on
the car we hit the road on September 13th. We only ate 25 pounds of
Wild Rice last year, so we didn’t feel like we needed much to make it worth the
trip but we packed light so that we would have ample room to bring home a bounty of rice- should the circumstances permit. At
4:00 PM we arrived and I went straight to the water to check the rice. It was
fantastic! The plants were loaded: long plump black kernels fell easily with
the slightest bump. I was so giddy with excitement that I carried my first
handful of rice back to the car and carefully put it in a box. We quickly untied
the canoe from the car, launched, and riced until darkness, hunger and the
knowledge that we hadn’t even set up camp slowly overcame our enthusiasm.
Knocking tall rice |
Poling (Poppe photograph) |
For the next two days we
riced steadily yielding about a bushel every hour from plants that ranged from
4-8 feet tall. You had to stand to knock the rice and even then, bending the
tops of the rice over the canoe took some work. With two people standing, there
were some near upsets, but we quickly found our balance. The polling was easy
with no obstructions beyond the occasional co-dominance of rice with Wapato (Sagittaria latifolia). The lake bottom
was also firm enough to keep the pole from getting lodged too deeply in the
muck. It was first time I’ve ever tired faster knocking rice than polling the
canoe. The rice beds were long enough that we could go straight in one
direction for an hour, and we usually traded positions at every turn. With 30
acres of rice all to ourselves, we knocked 447 pounds (including my first
handful) in about 16 hours of ricing over the course of 3 days.
Wild Rice and Wapato growing together (Poppe photograph) |
Drying
If left
in a sack for a few days, Wild Rice will begin to mold and we didn’t want to
rely on the cloud prone coastal climate to dry our rice, so we took advantage of
every chance we weren’t on the water to dry the rice. Spread across giant
tarps, the warm weather and low humidity quickly desiccated the grain. The rice was mostly dry enough after 1 day to safely pack
up and take home, where we finished drying it over another two days of fabulous
fall weather in Bellingham.
Even the late afternoon sun was enough to begin to dry the rice (Poppe Photograph) |
Parching
Parching rice |
Properly dried rice will
keep indefinitely, but in order to remove the coarse, inedible hulls that
surround each grain, the rice must be parched. Most ricers in the Great Lakes region take their rice to
a processing facility that parches, hulls, and winnows the rice for them, but
there is no such facility near me, so I have to do it myself. The trick with parching is to
apply enough heat to dry the hull to the point of brittleness without popping
or burning the grain. I have been using
a 15 quart stainless steel stock pot in which I can only parch about 2 pounds
of rice at a time (slow going, I know). Once warmed to between 140-160°F, plumes of steam begin to rise off
the rice with every turn. The steam diminishes and the rice starts to look and feel dry at about 170°F, but I continue parching until it reaches 185-190°F. All told, it takes about 20-30 minutes per batch. If the rice starts
popping, that means rice isn’t being stirred enough. If you are stirring frantically and still have popping rice it is time to turn the temperature down on the pan. See this interesting scientific study for more information on parching rice.
Hulling
Each kernel of rice is
surrounded by a close fitting hull or husk, which is coarse, hairy, and armed
with a long stiff awn that renders the grain a downright choking hazard if not
completely removed. Native Americans traditionally rubbed off these hulls by
“dancing” on the rice inside of buckskins lined pits. Dancers skillfully shuffle off to buffalo, or do the moccasin moonwalk to loosen the hulls.
A ripe Wild Rice hull (top) and kernel (bottom) |
Rubber lined paddles |
Some people continue to salsa on rice but my shoe rack doesn’t
include the proper footgear, so I set out to make my own rice hulling machine.
It is basically a rubber bladed paddle wheel inside of a rubber lined bucket,
powered by a hand crank. With a few exceptions, all the parts are recycled. I
started with a used five gallon bucket and glued a piece of sheet rubber to the
inside of the bucket. Then I drilled holes in the center of the bottom of the
bucket and the lid, and pressed in 1 5/8 x ¾ inch wheelbarrow bearings.
Through these bearings I laced my driveshaft, made of ¾ inch stainless pipe
that I found at a scrap yard. I also found some thin gauge stainless sheet
metal that I cut into paddles, onto which I glued more sheet rubber and bolted
to the drive shaft. The hand crank is made from a used aluminum bicycle crank
and was machined mostly by my friend Ric. We enlarged the square hole mount to
a ¾ inch round hole and tapped another small hole for a set screw to hold the
crank in place. The hand-hold is simply a pedal with all the flat parts ground
away.
Bicycle crank arm |
Winnowing ports |
Having invested a couple
days into the design and fabrication of this machine, I was pretty nervous to
see if it worked or not. For the inaugural hulling I only put in 2 cups of
parched rice. I cranked it for 2 minutes and dumped out the grain. Success! Half
the rice was properly hulled. I put in more and cranked for longer with better
results. Now I process about 2 pounds of rice at a time for 20-25 minutes a
batch.
Winnowing
Once the hulls are
rubbed off, they must then be separated from the grain, a process known as
winnowing. Classically, people dump rice from one container into another on a
windy day, or toss grain in the air using a winnowing basket to separate the
chaff. I am becoming more proficient at both techniques, but felt there was
opportunity to incorporate winnowing action into my rice hulling machine.
I purchased a used fan
at the thrift store and found some old plastic flower pots that were going to
be thrown away to make a reduction tube to convert the 10 inch diameter fan
down to a 4 inch diameter hole that I drilled into the lid of the bucket. The
fan sucks chaff laden air out of the bucket. I had to drill another hole to allow air
into the bucket, and when I discovered that my fan wasn’t powerful enough to pull out all the chaff, I supercharged the process by putting a hair dryer on
the air intake. With this set up I can winnow 95% of the chaff off the rice
while it is still in the hulling machine and greatly reduce the amount of time
hand-winnowing.
My winnowing attachment |
Final Cleaning
It is hard to rub all
the hulls off the rice with my machine. The longer I run the machine, the fewer
hulls are left on the grain, but I also break more kernels and begin to rub off
the black outer coating. Therefore I stop hulling when 98 percent
of the kernels are clean, and pick out the remaining un-hulled grain by hand.
This sounds tedious, but it is actually kind of fun- like knitting or weeding.
Katrina discovered that tweezers really speed up the process, and these days
she has been using the activity as a way to unwind after long days in grad-school.
A bowl of our cleaned, raw Wild Rice |
Plump black kernels |
Future Improvements
It is hard for me to use
a piece of equipment without thinking about modifications, and I already have
considered several design improvements. The size of my machinery puts a major
limit on its labor efficiency. With bigger parching pans and hulling paddles, I
could parch and hull more rice in the same amount of time. Broken rice grains
are also an annoying result of both the amount of stirring required while parching
the rice, and size of the rice huller. I am contemplating a new rice parching
set-up that not only has more volume, but uses rotary motion to move the rice-
something like a cement mixer or clothes dryer. In this parching system rice would be
gently tumbled instead of forcefully stirred, and I believe fewer kernels would
break. The high arc angle of long rice kernels across the small circumference of
a 5-gallon bucket also breaks grain. Increasing the circumference of the huller
would allow even the longest grains of rice to lay virtually flat across the arc of
the huller. For labor efficiency's sake, it would be best to scale up my parcher
and huller for 15-30 pound batches (from 1.5-2 pound batches), but I have
limited storage for equipment that I only use on a yearly basis, and will probably
just continue to tweak my current system.
Two of our favorite
ways to eat rice
Ingredients:
½ cup Wild Rice
1 cup water
¼ cup dried Cranberries (substitute any dried berry)
¼ cup Heartnuts (substitute any nut)
1-2 tablespoons Bigleaf Maple syrup (substitute Sugar Maple syrup, honey,
or agave nectar)
Directions:
Rinse and boil ½ cup Wild Rice in 1 cup of water for 20 minutes, until
you hear it crackle. Mix in the remaining ingredients. Enjoy hot or cold. Makes
2 servings
Wild Rice Pilaf
Ingredients:
1 cup Wild Rice
2 cup water
½ cup dried and diced Winged Kelp
¼ cup dried morels
½ cup chopped Beaked or American Hazelnut (substitute filberts)
Directions:
Bring 2 cup of water to a simmer. Add ¼ cup dried Morels, diced Winged
Kelp, and 1 cup rinsed Wild Rice. Boil for 20 minutes, until you hear the rice
crackle. Mix in the Hazelnuts and serve hot. Makes 4 servings.
For many, starch is the
final frontier of the wild food diet, and a critical gap for those seeking independence from the industrial food system. Wild Rice has fantastic flavor,
stores superbly, and cooks quickly, making it an attractive substitute to agricultural
grains, and like many other wild foods, there are ecological benefits as well.
Wild Rice is rare among annual cereal crops in that it doesn’t require any soil
disturbance, and grows in places with gradual soil accumulation, not erosion. Though
somewhat novel to the Pacific Northwest, Wild Rice is Native to North America and
has a long legacy in our region. With several years’ worth of rice safely
stored away, I feel closer than ever to my dream of re-wilding my diet.
Addendum:
The Rice Knowledge Bank website is full of interesting information about white rice processing machinery. I should have checked it out before I designed my equipment!
Addendum:
The Rice Knowledge Bank website is full of interesting information about white rice processing machinery. I should have checked it out before I designed my equipment!