Once served to emperors, this traditional fermented fish is quietly making a comeback

From the late 7th century, Wakasa was one of three Miketsukuni, areas designated by law to provide seafood to the emperor and imperial court. The port of Obama, nestled between mountains and the sheltered waters of Wakasa Bay on the Sea of Japan, was Wakasa’s center of supply. 

From this closest seaport to the capital, porters would carry salt, seaweed, and salted fish in baskets tied to their backs directly across the rugged mountains to Nara and Kyoto. This route, known as the Saba Kaidō, or Mackerel Highway, owes its name to the abundance of mackerel in Wakasa Bay. This bounty was due to the bay’s ideal environment, created by the convergence of the warm Tsushima Current from the south and the cool Liman Current from the north.

The 72-kilometer journey from Obama to Kyoto along the Mackerel Highway took just enough time for the preserved fish to reach its optimal flavor. Seafood from Obama was highly valued in Kyoto as “Wakasa food,” and one popular dish, saba-zushi—sushi rice pressed with a fillet of salted and pickled mackerel—is still a popular washoku today and a feature of Kyoto’s annual Gion festival.

Among the foods sent to Kyoto in bygone days, one stand-out is a unique type of preserved mackerel known as Heshiko.

Heshiko

Inland along the northern section of Obama lies the hamlet of Tagarasu, meaning “crows in the rice paddies.” In one of its quiet valleys, surrounded by green mountains and picturesque rice terraces, stands a disused elementary school. Once alive with the laughter and chatter of energetic children, its classrooms fell silent more than a decade ago. Today, its schoolyard is occasionally used by elderly locals who gather for a leisurely game of gateball.

But in recent years, the school building has gained a new purpose. Its once lively classrooms are now home to hundreds, yea, thousands, of silent inhabitants—mackerel.

Tagarasu is where I was fortunate to learn about Heshiko, an ancient technique that uses salt and fermentation to preserve fish. Born out of necessity, this method helped Obama fulfill its role as a Miketsukuni, furnishing high-quality seafood from Wakasa Bay to the imperial cities of Nara and Kyoto along the “Mackerel Highway.” It also provided a vital source of protein for people living in the mountains, ensuring they had healthy food to carry them through the harsh winter months when deep snow made fresh supplies scarce.

Today, heshiko remains a local delicacy, rich in umami. Its preservation process involves salting and fermenting fish — usually mackerel, sometimes herring — for over a year.

The process begins in autumn with a fresh catch of mackerel. The fish are gutted and cleaned, their cavities filled with salt, and then they are packed into large cedar barrels.

Once a barrel is full, the fish are covered, and a two-kilogram weight is placed on top. A day or two later, the fish are removed, packed in fresh barrels, and pressed with a heavier weight. This process continues, with the weight gradually increasing, until excess liquids are removed from the fish.

When the fish are sufficiently moisture-free, they are repacked into barrels—this time filled and layered with rice bran instead of salt. Togarashi peppers are added to deter insects, and sturdy straw ropes are tied tightly around the barrel rims to seal the containers. 

Left undisturbed for about a year, the mackerel undergoes slow fermentation. The following winter, the fish have transformed into heshiko and are ready to be eaten.

Heshiko is packed with nutrition and is a rich source of protein, calcium, iron, dietary fiber, EPA, DHA, beneficial enzymes, and vitamins B and D. The family of heshiko producers I met hope that one day, heshiko will be recognized as the superfood it is and that Tagarasu’s heshiko will become a household name.

Heshiko goes well with a cup of dry sake or beer. It can be served in all kinds of ways—thinly sliced atop a wedge of daikon radish, grilled, as sushi, or in chazuke — topping on a bowl of rice with green tea poured over it.

Narezushi

Some heshiko are fermented further and made into narezushi—the earliest form of sushi. To make this, the fish are first rinsed to remove the rice bran, then skinned and soaked in water to draw out excess salt. Next, they are filled with rice and koji mold — Aspergillus oryzae, the same spores used to make sake, soy sauce, and miso paste — and packed back into barrels with more rice and koji.

A weight is placed on top, and the mixture is left to ferment for a couple of weeks. After this, the narezushi is ready to eat.

Like many fermented foods, narezushi is an acquired taste and is best served in small portions. It is not nearly as salty as heshiko, and I can see how it would be a popular snack to nibble on with sake or beer.

If you’re in Japan but can’t make it up to Obama, you can order heshiko online from https://www.kadono-heshiko.com/. Unfortunately, Kadono-san cannot ship internationally.

The post Heshiko—Japan’s (Almost) Forgotten Superfood first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Old and new ways to ring in the New Year

After first arriving in Japan in 1987, I quickly learned to stock up for the first three days of the New Year since all stores would be shuttered while their owners and employees spent time with their families.

Times have changed. Today most stores remain open during the holidays and 24-hour convenience stores abound.

While modern times have brought welcome changes, perhaps along the way some of the understanding of the holiday customs has been lost, cast aside amid the hubbub of TV specials and New Year’s Sales.

To understand Japan’s New Year, we need to return to the holiday’s roots, which date as far back as the 1st century. In those days, the ancient people celebrated in three main ways.

• Welcoming the toshi-kami, the god of the new year.
• Praying for bountiful harvests in the coming year.
• Expressing gratitude for another year of life.

These practices are reflected in today’s New Year’s traditions, and each of the holiday’s countless customs is imbued with meaning.

Let’s take a look at a few of the most outstanding traditions, work our way forward in time, and end with a look at those TV specials.

Welcoming the God of the New Year, the Toshi-Kami

The Shinto Toshi-kami descends from the heavens via the pine decorations that adorn each house. Around the time families break and eat their kagami mochi, the New Year’s decorations are ceremonially burned—typically around January 15th, depending on regional customs—the smoke transports the god back to the heavens, leaving behind his blessings and protection for the year ahead.

This Toshi-kami is a busy god with a wide portfolio. Besides being the god who brings bounty and blessings in the new year, he also merges with the collective spirit of each family’s ancestors, their sorei, who visits their family at this time (although the sorei’s main holiday is Obon, in the summer). The Toshi-kami then becomes a ta no kami, rice field god, in the spring, and a yama no kami, mountain god, after harvest in the fall. He is also sometimes known as the god of lucky directions.

Reflecting the importance of purity and cleanliness in the Shinto religion, a thorough house cleaning is done at the end of December. People get rid of clutter, dust behind cabinets, change the paper in the paper doors, and make their houses spotless. Once that is done, Shimenawa ropes are hung upon the doorways signifying that the house is purified and ready to welcome the Toshi-kami.

Gratitude for Another Year of Life

Long ago in Japan, in accord with the Chinese method of counting years, newborns were considered one year old, and another year of life was added to everyone on New Year’s Day, regardless of their birthdays.

Gifts of Money, O-Toshi-Dama

As a kind of birthday present on New Year’s Day, children receive small envelopes filled with money for the year from each of their older relatives. This money is called o-toshi-dama, お年玉, literally “honorable year’s jewels.” Since Christmas is a fairly recent import into Japan and not a holiday (see my brief history of Christmas here), New Year’s Day is the day children have traditionally looked forward to receiving gifts, i.e., money.

Special New Year’s Dishes, Osechi-ryori

In order to take a holiday from cooking and enjoy time with one’s extended family, special foods are painstakingly prepared in advance — or bought — to be eaten together with the Toshi-kami during the first three days of the new year. Eating these meals with the gods is said to impart spiritual power and blessings upon the mortals.

Each food has its specific meaning, and there are too many to mention, but here are a few.

Sea Bream — Tai, for an auspicious year

The traditional Japanese calendar started in spring and so New Year’s Day used to be a springtime occasion. From the image of the first sprouts appearing came the expression mede-tai, 芽出度い (pronounced meh-deh-tie), literally “the time when sprouts emerge.” From that, mede-tai came to be used to describe something happy and auspicious.

For this reason, sea bream, called tai, 鯛, is an essential part of any osechi-ryōri. It plays on the homonym tai, “happy” and “auspicious” — everyone’s sincere wish for the new year.

Herring Roe — Kazunoko, for many children

Another popular item is herring roe, called kazunoko, 鯑. Its homonym means many children, 数の子.

Shrimp — Ebi, for long life

As a wish for long life, shrimp are eaten. Shrimp, called ebi, 海老, literally “the aged of the sea,” suggest the long beards and bent frames of the elderly.

Dried Sardines — Tazukuri, for bountiful harvests

Tazukuri, 田作り, is a dish made of dried sardines and soy sauce. Its name means “making a rice field.” Sardines were traditionally used as fertilizer in rice paddies in many areas of Japan, thus the dish expresses the wish for abundant harvests.

Rolled Omelets — Datemaki, for days of blessings

Perhaps my favorite wordplay is the name for the rolled, sweet omelet mixed with fish paste. It is called datemaki, 伊達巻 (pronounced dah-te-ma-key), so named because the samurai lords of Sendai (in Miyagi Prefecture), the Date clan (dah-te), were famous for being well-dressed.

In ancient Japan, holidays were called hare no hi, ハレの日, special days, and on such days people wore their finest clothes — what we might call their Sunday best.

From this idea of fashionable Date clan style clothing being worn on special days, the Date-maki sweet omelet expresses the wish for many such special days in the coming year.

Bell Ringing

From the introduction of Buddhism in the 6th century, Buddhist customs merged with the ancient Shinto customs. As such, at midnight on New Year’s Eve, Buddhist temple bells are rung 108 times, banishing the 108 worldly desires. This marks both a prayer for forgiveness for the past year, and a prayer for steadfastness in the next.

First Shrine Visit of the Year, Hatsumōde

On the first three days of the New Year, people flock to Shinto shrines, and many to Buddhist temples, for their first visit of the year, called Hatsumōde. Meiji Shrine in the center of Tokyo traditionally receives over 3 million visitors each year during the New Year’s holidays, but even small countryside shrines get plenty of visitors.

Visitors to shrines clap, bow, and say a brief prayer for the year. People often buy omikuji, little slips of paper picked out from a box with their fortunes for the year foretold. If they are worried that not all of their fortune is good, they can tie the paper to a tree or a wire hung at the shrine, and leave that undesirable fortune in the hands of the gods, carrying the good fortune home in their hearts.

As all their previous year’s omamori (good luck charms), daruma dolls, and household protective amulets were brought to shrines to be burned at the end of December, people buy new charms for such things as safety and protection for the new year, success in studies, or safe childbirth, new daruma for setting goals for the year, and new ema upon which to write their prayers.

Nengajo, New Year’s Greeting Postcards

On New Year’s Day, bundles of postcards are delivered to each house. These are sent by friends and associates containing words of thanks for past kindnesses, well-wishes, and yoroshiku-onegaishimasu — please, and thank you in advance — for kindnesses in the new year.

People spend time during the day nibbling on osechi-ryōri, reading over the various greetings, and remembering old friends. The cards are usually themed according to the animals of the Chinese zodiac, 2022 being the year of the Tiger.

TV Specials

A big event in many households is the yearly New Year’s Eve TV specials. The most famous by far is a good-natured singing contest, Kōhaku Uta Gassen. Musicians are divided into two teams, a red team composed of females, and a white team composed of males. The red and white division of teams gives the show its name, Kōhaku, meaning red and white.

NHK, the national TV broadcasting corporation, began airing this show from the year Japan got its first TVs, 1953. Musicians are chosen by invitation only, and performing on Kōhaku is considered quite an honor and even can be the highlight of one’s career. The spectacular lighting, costumes, and set design never disappoint.

At the end of the show, the audience, together with the judges, votes on the winning team.

Competing with Kōhaku for viewers is a bizarre show that is popular among many of the younger generation, called, Dauntaun no Gaki no Sukaiyaarahende! which defies translation.

On this year-end special, serious celebrities face off against several old-school comedians who are placed in various situations — on a bus, then in a school, or whatever the theme is that year — and the celebrities do and say outrageous things to make the comedians laugh.

If they laugh, which they inevitably do, people dressed in commando camouflage jump out and spank them with rubbery batons. The absurdity of all this is considered hilarious.

Japanese TV, truly unique, has to be seen to be believed.

This is by no means a complete list of New Year’s customs. Other traditions include making and eating delicious pounded sticky rice cakes called mochi, children flying kites in the clear breezy skies of winter, and eager shoppers hunting for “lucky bags” filled with mystery discounts at their favorite stores. In a small fishing port on the Izu Peninsula, on finds a unique New Year’s decoration welcoming the god of the New Year—Shiokatsuo, and ancient type of dried bonito. Even one’s first dream of the year is significant, but I think only in Japan does one hope it contains Mount Fuji, a hawk, or an eggplant.

By January 4th, people begin to go back to their normal routines, greeting coworkers and associates by saying akemashite-omedetō-gozaimasu, “Happy New Year,” and naturally, “For this year, too, please and thank you in advance,” kotoshi-mo, yoroshiku-onegaishimasu.

Sources:

https://maminyan.com/shogatsu/know/toshigamisama.html, https://www1.nhk.or.jp/kouhaku/, https://www.ntv.co.jp/gaki/, many years in Japan.

The post Japanese New Year — Gods, Symbolic Foods, and TV Extravaganzas first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Ordered by my daughter at a Japanese restaurant

I realize that “strangest food” is subjective, so some of these may not be so strange to you. Nevertheless, allow me to share a few of my stand-outs.

A couple of years ago, I wrote that a rural Japanese innkeeper had served me the most exotic food I have ever eaten. That was true, but life and meals moved on, and now it’s time for an update.

Whale

In my other article, I neglected to mention whale. Yes, I have eaten whale both raw and cooked. It was even served to my children in their school lunches once a year.

School lunches are considered a part of the children’s education. There is an emphasis on eating a variety of foods with a balanced nutritional content. Once a year or so, they serve traditional foods to continue awareness. Whale was one of those.

Anyway, whale is easy to find at fish markets. Some cuts are intended to be eaten raw and others to be cooked, its fat is used to create an umami-filled broth, and even its intestines are sliced and eaten — see the circular items pictured below. Nothing goes to waste.

Speaking of whale, my daughter was gifted rice crackers, some flavored with whale, some with octopus, and some with blowfish—another delicacy in Japan that I’ve eaten both cooked and raw.

But still, these foods are not that strange, nor is my next offering.

Yuba

If you have visited Kyoto, perhaps you’ve had macha (green tea) noodles with yuba. 

Yuba is a food that developed as part of shojin-ryori, Buddhist vegetarian cuisine. It is the film that forms when soy milk is boiled. It’s gently lifted off and used in many creative ways. Its subtle flavor makes it versatile, and it’s hard to miss if you’re in Kyoto, Nikkō, or Mount Kōya.

Fermented mackerel

Now we start to veer into the exotic with fermented mackerel, called heshiko. Its production is limited to a small village in Fukui Prefecture. Heshiko is centuries old, developed to be sent on the backs of porters to Kyoto and Nara. 

Mackerel caught in Wakasa Bay is cleaned, then packed in salt and rice bran and left to ferment for six months or more. 

Heshiko is so interesting it deserves its own article. More on that later.

Monkfish liver

Monkfish are odd-looking creatures. I did not know that one could eat their livers, but having done so, I do now. 

Tasty, but not something I would go out of my way to seek out.

Wasabi ice cream

We usually think of wasabi as a condiment for sushi, sashimi, or soba, but it can be used for other things, too, like ice cream. But it must be fresh, which is completely different than the imitation wasabi made from horseradish that is sold in tubes in supermarkets.

I have had it a few times, and it’s both mildly hot and sweet. Try it, if you get a chance.

Now on to the winner of this article’s strangest food.

The strangest food

This exotic food appeared on my stage last month.

It all started when my eldest son decided to fly across the globe to visit his mother in rural Japan. One whim led to another, and one day my son, one of my daughters who was also visiting, and I, found ourselves exploring a shrine to none other than Ninigi-no-Mikoto, the grandson of the Sun Goddess, Amaterasu Omikami, from whom all Japanese emperors descended.

Japanese shrines are usually at the top of long staircases, and this was no exception. We were starting to feel a bit peckish.

Google Maps led us to a nearby restaurant. It was closed. A very eager-to-help woman in the parking lot drew us a map to a chain sushi restaurant, but on the way, I wanted to check out a small one.

It looked good. Old. Traditional building. We went in.

Gold and uni

Oh, but wait! I completely forgot about gold leaf! I’ve eaten that numerous times.

And uni? Uni is sea urchin. But not all of the sea urchin — only the gonads are served in Japanese restaurants and called uni.

So there’s that, too. Sea urchin gonads.

Back to the restaurant.

As we walked in, my daughter got all excited by one of the dishes listed in Japanese on the wall behind the counter.

“It’s seasonal, and they only make it this way in Kagoshima!” she enthused.

She ordered it. My son and I — not quite as “Japanese” as my red-haired and freckled daughter — didn’t pay much attention.

We ordered sushi sets, which were fresh and delicious and came with miso soup and chawan mushi, small cups of savory egg custard.

Then the dish my daughter ordered was served.

Tempura, my favorite! 

It looked delicious. But what could it be?

Cod semen

It was fish semen tempura. 

My daughter ate with gusto, and she was nice enough to share some with her brother and me.

I dare say, tempura is must be better than how it’s usually served.

Boiled, with ponzu—citrus soy sauce.

Yum.

What strange or exotic food have you eaten, that you actually liked?

The post More Exotic than Crickets — the Strangest Food I’ve Ever Eaten first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Exploring culinary traditions in Izu and Kochi

While hiking in the Izu Peninsula of Shizuoka, I was lucky enough to visit an unusual shop. Tucked away up a hill in rural Tago, on the western coast, Kanesa Katsuobushi sells bonito. But not just any bonito, they are among a handful of shops that still preserve the fish using the most ancient of methods.

Bonito, sometimes called skipjack tuna, has been a dietary staple in Japan for millennia, evident from the discovery of its bones in Jomon-era (14,000–300 BC) shell middens. And if you’ve ever eaten Japanese food, you’ve likely eaten bonito. It is the foundation of dashi broth, an indispensable ingredient in Japanese cuisine. You might have even seen fish flakes, shaved from dried bonito, dance like an apparition atop tofu, rice, and other dishes.

Katsuo, the Japanese word for bonito, can also be read as “a man who wins,” giving it a favorable connotation. Similarly, the association between the celebratory dish sea bream, called tai, and something happy and auspicious — known as mede-tai — shows how symbolism may contribute to a dish’s enduring popularity.

Because bonito is a seasonal fish, ancient people devised creative ways to preserve it. The earliest documented technique is shiokatsuo, salted and dried bonito, sent from the Izu peninsula as a gift to the Imperial Court during the Nara era (710–794). That is Kanesa Katsuo’s specialty.

To make shiokatsuo, bonito are cleaned, and their cavities are packed with salt. Each fish is then covered in salt and placed in cedar barrels to marinate for two weeks. After marination, the fish are removed, and the salt is rinsed off. The bonito are then hung in the shade and exposed to the cold westerly winds of Izu’s western coast for about three weeks to remove moisture, allowing the fish to dry and mature. As they slowly dry, the proteins in the bonito ferment and mature, concentrating their umami flavor.

Shiokatsuo is produced in early winter in the coastal town of Tago, on the Izu Peninsula, with production peaking in November.

The drying not only preserves but also ferments and ages the fish, concentrating its flavor — not unlike the process used in creating dry-cured ham.

Centuries ago, owners of bonito fishing boats on the western coast of Izu began offering shiokatsuo to Shinto shrines for purification, then serving it to their crews to celebrate the New Year. It was given both as a prayer for bountiful catches and as a guarantee of employment throughout the coming year. If a crew member was not given that gift, he knew he was out of a job.

As part of Shogatsu, or New Year’s celebration, people around Japan place kagami mochi, “mirror rice cakes,” on their house altars to welcome the god of the New Year. Not so in western Izu. Through the centuries, the custom of fishing boat owners offering shiokatsuo morphed into a unique tradition. Here, households and shrines hang shiokatsuo at their entrances to welcome the god of the New Year, as a prayer for bountiful fishing, and in appreciation to the bonito themselves.

This New Year’s tradition has kept alive this ancient method of preserving bonito . Each year in November, the Kanesa shop produces 400–500 shiokatsuo decorated with rice straw to be used during the New Year — called shogatsu-yo. And each year, they quickly sell out.

Kanesa Katsuo’s main product, though, is the most common form of bonito eaten in Japan — katsuobushi. Originating in the 17th century, this rocklike preserved fish is flaked and used as a topping for various dishes and is a key ingredient in dashi broth.

Known as the hardest food in the world, katsuobushi takes six months to prepare. First, the bonito is filleted, deboned, and cleaned before being boiled and left to dry on racks in a hot oven. Then the dried fillets are coated with koji mold — the same koji used in the production of sake, miso, and soy sauce — and left to mature for about four months. 

This process results in blocks of preserved fish that will later be shaved into “fish flakes.” Special heavy-duty planes are needed for shaving the rock-hard katsuobushi. Your mandoline slicer just won’t do. 

Bonito in Kochi

Each year, bonito migrate from the warm waters of southern Okinawa Prefecture along the eastern coasts of Kyushu, Shikoku, and Honshu.

To avail themselves of this bounty of the sea, fishermen in Kochi city on Shikoku island have long used a 400-year-old traditional method called ipponzuri, catching the bonito with a fishing pole. The fishermen first lure a school of these torpedo-shaped, silver-blue fish into a concentrated area and then catch them one by one. A single fish can weigh as much as 5 kilos (11 pounds).

Although fishing using large nets would be easier, this method is avoided to prevent damage to the fish and the unintentional capture of other species.

Seasonal treasures

Bonito are primarily harvested twice a year: from March to May in spring and from September to November in fall. The fish caught during these periods are renowned for their differing yet exceptional flavors.

In the early 17th century, the great haiku poet Yamaguchi Sodo extolled,

The poet was expressing his delight at the harbingers of warmer months — one of which was the first bonito of the season. 

Riding the warm Kuroshio current up from the south, these Hatsukatsuo, first bonito, or Noborikatsuo, up-bound bonito, caught between March and May were historically so valued that they were considered almost worth “pawning your wife and children” to obtain. Celebrated for their mild flavor and lower fat content, these fish are said to be best served as katsuo no tataki, or seared bonito.

Those caught from September to November are Modorikatsuo, returning bonito, or Kudarikatsuo, going back bonito. These fish have eaten heartily during their southward migration, resulting in a higher fat content that contributes to a more delicate taste and texture, making it an excellent choice for sashimi.

Kochi is also famous for its himodori katsuo — bonito eaten the same day it is caught — prized for its luxurious freshness.

Bonito is by far the most popular fish in Kochi, particularly Kochi City, where households consume an average of 5,163 grams (11 pounds, 6 ounces) per year — far more than any other city in Japan. This consumption has fostered a wide array of cooking styles.

How bonito is eaten

Aside from katsuobushi, sashimi is widely popular. But in Kochi, bonito sashimi takes a backseat to the local specialty, katsuo no tataki. 

To prepare this delicacy, the bonito is cleaned and filleted, and all bones are carefully removed. The resulting quarters of the fish are skewered and held over a fire of rice straw until the outside is seared. This rapid grilling eliminates excess moisture and any lingering fishy smell, enhances the flavor, and creates crispy skin. The seared fish is promptly plunged into ice water to halt the cooking process, then drained and sliced. Katsuo no tataki is served with condiments and sauces that vary by region and individual chef.

Shio tataki, another popular dish, features warm grilled bonito lightly sprinkled with salt. Fishermen often eat it with thin slices of fresh garlic. Other condiments include ponzu, a sauce made from soy sauce and local citrus, as well as salt and garlic, myoga (a mild type of Japanese ginger), scallions, shiso (perilla) leaves, and nihaizu, a 50/50 mix of soy sauce and vinegar.

And there are more. Tosa-maki is rolled sushi filled with seared bonito, shiso leaves, and sometimes raw garlic. Another is harambo, broiled bonito belly served with salt. Chichiko, bonito heart, is generally prepared in one of two ways — stewed in a sweet and salty broth of ginger and soy sauce or simply grilled with salt.

For the more adventurous palate, there’s shuto, written with the Japanese characters for “sake” and “theft.” 酒盗 This peculiar name comes from the dish’s perfect pairing with sake, tempting drinkers to steal the tasty dish. Shuto is a paste made from the salted and fermented organs of bonito mixed with sake, mirin, honey, and onions, resulting in, shall we say, a unique and bold flavor.

Although I traveled far to learn about this amazingly versatile fish, the largest number of bonito caught in the country is right in Kagoshima Prefecture, my home.

The post Bonito — Ancient, Essential Basis of Japanese Cuisine first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.