Why it’s not just another bowl of carbs

Known as soba in Japan, buckwheat, despite its name, is not related to wheat at all. It is a pseudocereal—a non-grass plant whose seeds are used like grains. You are probably familiar with other pseudocereals, such as quinoa, amaranth, and chia. Unlike true cereal grains like wheat and rice, which come from grasses (monocots), pseudocereals are broadleaf flowering plants (dicots). They resemble grains in appearance and are used in similar ways—in noodles, porridge, baked goods, and more.

Soba, a term used for both the buckwheat grain and the noodle dish, is low in calories but rich in nutrients. It’s one of the highest-protein pseudocereals, containing between 8 and 14 grams of protein per 100 grams, depending on how it’s prepared. Noodles made from 100% buckwheat flour are higher in protein than those blended with wheat flour, which is often added to improve texture and elasticity. Buckwheat protein also contains all nine essential amino acids that the body cannot produce on its own, very rare among plant-based foods.

History

One of the oldest domesticated crops in Asia, buckwheat was introduced to Japan as an agricultural crop from the Korean peninsula during the mid to late Yayoi period (300 BC–250 AD). At first, it was raised for its edible leaves, but by the Nara period (710–794), its seeds had become a vital staple. Considered peasant food, soba was cultivated in mountainous regions where rice and wheat were difficult to grow, such as today’s Nagano and Yamanashi Prefectures.

Legend tells us that En no Gyōja, the founder of Shugendō, mountain asceticism, brought soba seeds from Nara to these remote areas. His followers are said to have helped spread buckwheat cultivation to the foothills of sacred mountains throughout Japan.

The cool climate, steep terrain, and poor, rocky soil of Nagano were not suitable for rice cultivation but were ideal for buckwheat. Hardy and fast-growing, buckwheat matures in 70 to 90 days and thrives where other crops fail. Farmers could plant it after the last spring frost and harvest before autumn’s cold set in, making it a natural fit for the region’s short growing season.

The earliest known reference to soba noodles comes from a small town in Nagano, Suhara-juku, a post town along the Kisoji section of the old Nakasendō Highway. A 1574 document describing repairs to the Buddha Hall of Jōshō-ji Temple notes that a man named Kanei served the workers soba-kiri, literally “cut buckwheat,” the early term for soba noodles—to celebrate the completion of the repair work.

Health benefits of soba

One serving of soba noodles, 170 grams (6 ounces), contains:

• 151 calories
• 7 grams of protein
• 0.7 grams of fat
• 1.76 grams of dietary fiber, about half soluble and half insoluble
• 27 grams of carbohydrates (slow-digesting, complex carbs)

It’s also particularly rich in vitamins A, B1, B2, niacin, vitamin B6, and folic acid, as well as a wide range of minerals including iron, magnesium, manganese, potassium, and zinc. With a glycemic index of 54, soba is considered a low GI food, meaning it leads to a slower and more gradual rise in blood glucose levels after eating.

Oh, and did I mention? When made without the addition of wheat flour, soba noodles are completely gluten-free.

Back to history

Soba noodles are made by mixing buckwheat flour with a small amount of wheat flour, then slowly and carefully adding water little by little. The dough is mixed by hand, kneaded, rolled with a long rolling pin, folded, then cut. Soba prepared this way is called te-uchi, hand hit, noodles. Although soba noodles can be made by machines, te-uchi noodles are by far the best, as they can withstand a lower ratio of wheat flour and, therefore, taste more like soba.

Originally, soba noodles were served separately and dipped in a small bowl of tsuyu broth. But as yatai, street food stalls, proliferated during the Edo era (1603-1867), it became more common and convenient to serve the noodles with the tsuyu poured directly over them in a single bowl. Yatai soba sellers would preboil the noodles, then, when an order was placed, quickly blanch them, drain them, and pour soup on top. This dish was called kakesoba, poured-on soba. Easy to prepare, easy to eat, and inexpensive, kakesoba soon became a popular fast food throughout Edo (modern-day Tokyo).

During this period, nearly every neighborhood in Edo had one or two yatai selling soba, many of which also served sake. The city’s residents—generally wealthier than those in rural areas—were prone to beriberi, a disease caused by a deficiency of thiamine (vitamin B1). Their refined diets, centered on polished white rice—costly but nutritionally poor—lacked sufficient thiamine. By and by, it was discovered that regularly eating thiamine-rich soba could help prevent the illness.

Edo food delivery, called demae, began in the 1700s as a service to wealthy daimyō, feudal lords. Until the late Showa period (1926-1989), it was common to see bicycle couriers balancing stacks of soba in boxes and bowls on their shoulders, weaving through the crowded streets of Tokyo. However, the practice was curtailed in March 1961, when officials of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department warned, “To ride on a bicycle with piles of soba bowls on your shoulder is dangerous.” Although getting rarer by the day, I still occasionally see people delivering bowls of noodles piled on motorcycles or scooters in my area.

Soba pillows

In keeping with the Japanese motainai philosophy of avoiding all waste, buckwheat hulls have been used for centuries as a filling for pillows. Because of the airflow created by the loose hulls, soba pillows naturally resist pests, mold, and dust mites. They conform to the shape of the head and are much cooler in the hot, humid Japanese summers compared to modern feather or synthetic alternatives.

For more about Japanese food, see Washoku—Wonderful and Beautiful Japanese Cuisine.

The post Soba—Japan’s Most Misunderstood & Most Healthy Noodle first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

A Brief History of (Nearly) Forgotten Island Nation

I wrote a detailed history of the Ryukyu Kingdom here; this article offers a shorter version.

For 450 years, Okinawa was the seat of the refined Ryukyu Kingdom, a Chinese tributary, and a pivotal hub of East Asian trade. Strategically positioned at the crossroads of Japan, China, and Southeast Asia, the Ryukyu Islands became a major entrepôt, attracting trading ships from Japan, Korea, and as far south as Java. Renowned for their diplomacy, hospitality, and peaceful nature, the Ryukyu people developed a rich, cosmopolitan culture, turning their island paradise into a repository of treasures and ideas from foreign lands.

Today, Okinawa Prefecture consists of 160 islands, 49 inhabited, stretching 400 kilometers (250 miles) from north to south and 1,000 km (620 miles) from east to west. The prefecture is divided into two main island chains: the central Okinawa Islands and the southern Sakishima Islands. The Sakishima Islands are further subdivided into smaller archipelagos: the Miyako Islands and the Yaeyama Islands. 

Agricultural Development and the Aji

The organization of the kingdom began in the 11th century, when the cultivation of rice and foxtail millet spread to the central Ryukyus, giving rise to an agricultural society. Local chieftains, or aji, emerged to rule farming communities from gusuku, fortified hilltop castles. Over time, the more powerful aji expanded their territories, accumulated wealth, and
led bands of armed retainers.

These regional leaders eventually formed loose confederations that divided Okinawa Island into three polities: Hokuzan in the north, Chuzan in the center, and Nanzan in the south. While Hokuzan had fertile farmland, Chuzan and Nanzan grew more prosperous through international trade, importing ceramics and exporting goods such as sulfur and green turban shells, valued for their use in mother-of-pearl inlay. This early trade cast only a faint shadow of the flourishing cosmopolitan kingdom Ryukyu would later become.

The Rise of Satto, King of Chuzan (reigned 1345-1395)—Official Trade with China Begins

In 1349, a young local governor named Satto seized control of the central region of Chuzan and proclaimed himself king. His rise coincided with major upheavals in East Asia: the Mongol Empire was collapsing, Japanese pirates roamed the seas attacking trading ships and coastal ports, and a former beggar, Zhu Yuanzhang, was on his way to conquering China. After capturing Nanjing in 1356, Zhu went on to declare himself the first emperor of the Ming dynasty in 1368.

To the Chinese, all foreign peoples were considered “barbarians” who must submit to the divinely mandated Chinese emperor. As such, in 1372, Chinese emissaries arrived in Okinawa to establish a tributary relationship. King Satto responded by sending envoys to China, who returned with a royal seal and documents recognizing him as the legitimate ruler of Chuzan. This began formal trade relations with China—a relationship that would last for 500 years and have a profound impact on Okinawan culture.

Trade with China brought prosperity and cultural exchange. Okinawa sent goods such as sulfur and textiles, while the Chinese sent ceramics, ironware, and books. Young Okinawan nobles traveled to Nanjing to study, as it was understood that “barbarian” nations had much to learn from China—and learn they did. The students mastered the Chinese language, Confucian philosophy, ethics, history, and poetry. 

Both the tribute envoys and these students’ mastery of Chinese court etiquette earned them such distinction that, in later years, one emperor honored the king with a tablet inscribed with “The Land of Propriety,” acknowledging the refinement and decorum of the Ryukyuan people.

The First King of Ryukyu, Sho Hashi (Reigned 1422-1439)

King Satto died in 1395, leaving the throne to his son, Bunei. However, in 1407, a young aji named Hashi led a rebellion, ousted Bunei, and took the throne. Taking the name Sho Hashi, he unified Okinawa’s three polities—Hokuzan, Nanzan, and Chuzan—founding the Ryukyu Kingdom. He remodeled Shuri Castle, originally built in the 13th century, after China’s Forbidden City. For the next 450 years, the castle stood as the kingdom’s political center and a symbol of its strength and connection with China.

Chinese-educated officials guided the kingdom’s administration, strengthening diplomatic and trade ties with China. The capital, Shuri, prospered as luxury goods from Southeast Asia were funneled through the port of Naha and traded with China, Korea, and Japan. The savvy Ryukyuans, avoiding conflict and lacking military power, relied on diplomacy and cultural refinement to secure their place in regional networks.

Naha grew into a bustling port. Ceramics, lacquerware, textiles, spices, medicinal herbs, Chinese brocade, coins, books, and even exotic animals, like parrots and peacocks, flowed through its docks. While the Shuri elites flourished, much of the population remained poor. Inspired by imported luxuries they could not afford, Okinawan peasants created bashofu, a fine gauze woven from the fibers of banana plants, well-suited to the island’s tropical climate. Kasuri, an intricate dyed textile technique from the Indies, was adopted and refined, as well as tie-dyeing methods. Musical instruments and dance forms from abroad also took root, shaping Ryukyuan culture. 

Despite the growing prosperity of the capital, life for the average islander was hard. To cope, communities developed a tradition of mutual aid and cooperation, helping one another in any way they could. Known as yuimaru, this deep community spirit remains a cornerstone of Okinawan culture.

Through the reigns of Sho Hashi and his successors, the Ryukyu Kingdom evolved from a fragmented island society into a powerful and culturally rich trading nation, with the magnificent Shuri Castle as its heart.

New Agricultural Products

In 1606, an Okinawan sailor brought sweet potatoes back from China and planted them in his yard, unwittingly altering the course of the islands’ economy. Within 15 years, this hardy, high-yield crop became a staple across the Ryukyu Islands.

A second major crop arrived in 1623 when an envoy to China returned with sugarcane slips. The introduction of sugar—a prized luxury in Japan—led to profitable trade with the Satsuma domain in southern Kyushu. Together, sweet potatoes and sugarcane transformed the kingdom’s agricultural economy, strengthening food security and driving trade.

The Rise of the “Lords of the Southern Islands”—Shimadzu Rule (1609-1872)

In the late 12th century, Japan’s first shogun, Minamoto no Yoritomo, appointed Shimadzu Tadahisa as ruler of southern Kyushu, granting him the title “Lord of Satsuma” and the honorary title “Lord of the Southern Islands.” Though the latter title faded into obscurity, it would resurface with weighty consequences centuries later.

When Tokugawa Ieyasu unified Japan and became shogun in 1603, he recognized Ryukyu’s strategic value—both as a buffer against European powers like Spain, which had seized the Philippines in 1571, and as a covert channel for trade with the Ming. In 1609, Ieyasu’s son ordered the Shimadzu clan of Satsuma to conquer the Ryukyu Kingdom. 

The peace-loving islanders were no match for the battle-hardened Shimadzu samurai, armed with Western matchlock muskets. Shuri Castle fell within two months, and the Ryukyuan king was taken in chains to Satsuma, present-day Kagoshima.

Though Ryukyu was now under Satsuma’s control, the Shimadzu preserved the appearance of independence to protect access to Chinese trade. The king was reinstated, tribute missions to the Ming court continued, and outwardly, little seemed changed. But Ryukyu’s autonomy was lost, and the bulk of its wealth now flowed into Satsuma’s coffers.

Subjugated Ryukyu

To keep Ryukyu’s puppet status hidden from China, the Shimadzu clan enforced strict secrecy. Japanese writing was concealed, and if a Satsuma man was addressed in Japanese by a Chinese official, he had to feign ignorance. Okinawans were banned from adopting Japanese names, dress, or customs—a policy that, ironically, helped preserve Ryukyuan culture from assimilation.

Under Shimadzu rule, Chinese cultural influence continued to shape Okinawa. New traditions emerged, such as ishigantō stones placed at T-junctions to ward off evil spirits, kamekō-baka turtleback family crypts, and shīsā lions guarding the sides of residential entrances. From the Meiji Era (1868-1912), shīsā also began appearing on rooftops.

While profiting from Ryukyu’s trade with China, the Shimadzu placed heavy burdens on the kingdom. In addition to demanding frequent diplomatic missions to Edo, they imposed steep taxes. The Ryukyu government, in turn, passed these costs onto the Sakishima Islands through a poll tax.

Instituted in 1638 and lasting until 1903, the tax required all adults between the ages of 15 and 50 to pay in rice and cloth, regardless of their ability to produce. Quotas were based on the population of each village, placing a disproportionate strain on farmers. To prevent organized resistance, the kingdom forbade the migration of islanders.

The Shimadzu also outlawed weapons—a policy some historians link to the development of Okinawan martial arts. Locals adapted Chinese ti into a system of self-defense that became karate, meaning “empty hand.” Originally practiced in secret, karate emphasized respect, self-discipline, self-control, and the principle of avoiding conflict, qualities easily understood within the context of Ryukyu’s history and culture.

The Assimilation of the Ryukyu Kingdom and the Meiji Era (1868-1912)

In 1864, the Ryukyuan king received investiture from China for the last time, marking the end of a 500-year tradition. Meanwhile, Japan stood on the cusp of radical change. In 1867, the Meiji Emperor ascended the throne, ending 750 years of feudalism and ushering in an era of rapid modernization and territorial consolidation. 

Japan quickly adopted Western models for industry, military organization, and education. Feudal domains were replaced by prefectures, and lords gave way to governors. In 1871, the Meiji government declared the Ryukyu Kingdom a Japanese domain. Eight years later, it was annexed and renamed Okinawa Prefecture. Japanese was made the official language, local dialects were banned, and schools adopted the standard national curriculum. Students caught speaking the Ryukyu language were publicly shamed.

Many Okinawans who moved to mainland Japan concealed their origins to avoid prejudice. They were often stereotyped as unsophisticated country folk, while Okinawans, in turn, looked upon the inhabitants of the Sakishima Islands as even more “backward.” The Sakishima Islanders were treated as lesser subjects; they still carried the burden of the poll tax, and their islands were now being used as penal colonies for Okinawan convicts.

The Militarization of Okinawa

From the perspective of the Meiji Imperial Army, the Ryukyu Islands were a critical link between Formosa (the Japanese colony of Taiwan) and mainland Japan. Yet, Okinawans were considered unfit for military service as most adult men fell below the minimum height and weight requirements. The older generation vehemently opposed militarization, fearing it would invite attacks. Unlike the samurai of the mainland, Okinawans had no history of combat; they were peace-loving traders and diplomats, not warriors.

However, after Japan’s victory in the Russo-Japanese War of 1905, Okinawans were drafted into the military, and fitness programs were introduced across the islands. The towns that produced the most recruits were honored. Military leaders sought to instill a fanatic spirit in the islanders to compensate for their small stature. 

WWII—The Battle of Okinawa

By February 1944, with Allied forces advancing toward Japan, Okinawa stood directly in their path, a final buffer to delay an attack on the main islands. In anticipation of invasion, civilians were conscripted to build defenses, soldiers seized homes, and centuries-old pines lining Okinawa’s highways were stripped away. 

On April 1, 1945, American forces landed near Kadena, about a third of the way up Okinawa Island. To their surprise, they encountered little resistance and quickly advanced to the eastern coast, splitting the island. Civilians fled north, unprotected and terrified by Imperial propaganda warning of American atrocities. By May 5, the northern half of the island fell under American control. 

Meanwhile, General Ushijima, the top Imperial commander, had made his headquarters beneath Shuri Castle. His strategy was to draw the American forces under Shuri’s craggy heights, unleash a powerful crossfire, and hold them off until reinforcements could arrive from the mainland.

As American troops advanced, the fighting intensified into one of the fiercest artillery battles of the war. Though they reached the castle, its 500-year-old walls held firm. Offshore, kamikaze pilots from Kyushu attacked the American fleet, causing damage but failing to disrupt operations. On May 24, the battleship USS Mississippi opened fire on Shuri. For three days, it shelled the fortress until the once-magnificent ancient castle was reduced to ruins, its formidable walls crumbled into rubble.

On May 31, General Ushijima abandoned his headquarters beneath Shuri and relocated to a cave on the southern coast. Although the retreating Japanese fought with unparalleled ferocity from cave to cave, organization and discipline had disintegrated. The Imperial forces chose death over surrender, but with utter disregard for the civilians trapped among them.

Terrified locals, including the wounded and sick, sought refuge in caves, but these sanctuaries offered little safety. Japanese troops often took over the caves, forcing civilians out or using them as sniper positions, drawing American fire.

Naha fell on June 13. In the early hours of June 21, General Ushijima and his chief of staff, facing the humiliation of defeat, went to the ledges overlooking the southern sea, saluted the emperor in distant Tokyo, and took their own lives.

War’s Tragic Toll

The Battle of Okinawa inflicted immense suffering on civilians, who accounted for the majority of the casualties, more than those of both American and Japanese troops combined. Indoctrinated by the Imperial Army, Okinawans were taught that it was more honorable to die than face the “shame” of capture. Civilians were often issued two grenades—one to kill the enemy and the other to take their own lives.

Strict military control and relentless propaganda fostered an atmosphere of fear. Anyone caught speaking English or their local dialect was executed for suspected espionage. Those urging surrender were killed. Civilians were warned of torture, rape, and death if captured. As American troops advanced, these warnings triggered mass suicides. Soldiers instructed families to avoid capture at all costs, with mothers urged to kill their children and then themselves rather than fall into enemy hands.

Survivor accounts reveal the horror. In one case, Mr. Komine recalled his family forming a circle as his father prepared to execute them. He watched in horror as his father bludgeoned his mother and siblings before he was struck. After the killings, his father hanged himself from a tree. Against all odds, Mr. Komine was rescued by American troops and survived. 

Despite the widespread fear, many civilians hiding in caves were eventually driven out by hunger or desperation. Bracing for poison or brutal treatment, they were astonished to be given water, food, and medical care by American soldiers. Okinawa remained under US occupation after the war until it was returned to Japan in 1972. 

Okinawa’s Ongoing Struggles

Government policies have long prioritized the welfare and economic growth of mainland Japan over Okinawa, leaving the prefecture with a legacy of occupation, repression, and militarization. Today, critics argue that Okinawa continues to bear a disproportionate burden for the mainland’s interests, particularly through the continued presence of US military bases.

Okinawa’s poverty rate stands at approximately 35%, double the national average, with per capita income about 20% lower. The prefecture also records Japan’s highest rates of unemployment, irregular employment, and single-parent households, along with the second-highest divorce rate.

Educational outcomes remain troubling. Okinawa consistently ranks lowest on national academic achievement tests for students in grades six through nine and has the country’s lowest rate of university enrollment.

The elderly face acute financial hardship. Roughly 6.2% of residents aged 65 and older receive no pension—about twice the national average. Among those who do, the average monthly benefit is just ¥51,864, the lowest in Japan.

A Beacon of Resilience

Despite, or perhaps because of, a history of economic hardship and adversity, Okinawans are renowned for their kindness, resilience, and longevity. Women, in particular, enjoy an average life expectancy of 87.44 years, evoking the ancient image of the Ryukyu Islands as a mythical “land of the immortals.”

Designated a Blue Zone—one of several regions in the world known for exceptional longevity—Okinawa exemplifies the benefits of a balanced, traditional lifestyle. Residents maintain low stress levels, strong family and community ties, and active lives well into their 80s and beyond. Their diet, rich in locally sourced and nutrient-dense foods like sweet potatoes and other plant-based staples, is said to help reduce the risks of cancer, heart disease, and dementia, diseases common in Western populations.

The Okinawan way of life is rooted in a deep sense of community, or yuimaru, and the concept of ikigai, a profound sense of purpose. These cultural pillars, combined with physical activity and a healthy diet, have been praised as key factors in their well-being.

Though Okinawa has faced myriad challenges, its people continue to inspire with their warmth, deep-rooted mutual care, and positive outlook. Their enduring vitality and joie de vivre stand as a testament to the strength of their culture.

The post The Ryukyu Kingdom’s Rise and Ruin first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

The Maeda Clan’s Legacy, Kenrokuen Garden, and Translucent Gold Leaf

Kanazawa is the capital of Ishikawa Prefecture, about midway up the western coast of Honshu. The name Kanazawa, meaning “marsh of gold,” is said to have come from a story of a man who washed gold dust from freshly dug potatoes into a well. Today, the Kinjo Reitaku well, where those gold-dusted potatoes were rinsed, is located on the grounds of Kenrokuen Garden and stands as a reminder of the city’s golden legacy.

Kanazawa’s history dates back approximately 500 years to the Kaga Ikkō-ikki, a 15th-century conflict between the ruling samurai class and the Ikkō, militant followers of Jōdo Shinshū (True Pure Land Buddhism). This diverse group, which included monks, priests, townspeople, and farmers, emerged victorious and established Kanazawa as “The Peasants’ Kingdom.” Free from samurai rule, the government of Japan’s sole Buddhist fiefdom was based at Kanazawa Mido, a temple complex built in the mid-16th century on what is now the grounds of Kanazawa Castle.

“The Peasants’ Kingdom” came to a sudden end in 1580 when Oda Nobunaga’s forces, led by Shibata Katsuie and Sakuma Morimasa, stormed into the city. Following the conquest, Nobunaga gave Morimasa control of Kaga Province.

However, after Nobunaga’s death in 1582, Toyotomi Hideyoshi reassigned the province to Maeda Toshiie, a wise and accomplished samurai general. Toshiie’s ceremonial entry into Kanazawa on June 14, 1583, marked the start of the modern development of Kanazawa. The Maeda clan built Kanazawa Castle on the former site of the Mido temple, and they transformed the surrounding temple town into a new castle town.

For 285 years, the Maeda clan governed Kaga Province, present-day Ishikawa and Toyama Prefectures. One of the largest domains of the Edo period, Kaga had a rice yield of approximately 1.2 million koku—enough to support an army of 1.2 million men, as one koku (150 kilograms/331 pounds) was considered the amount needed to feed one man for a year. This vast yield made the Maedas the wealthiest feudal lords of the Edo period after the Tokugawa shoguns. Under the Maeda clan’s benevolent rule, Kanazawa flourished as their political, economic, and cultural center, and became one of Japan’s leading castle towns.

The third lord of Kaga, Maeda Toshie’s son Toshitsune, was the first to transport his rice taxes, 100 koku, by ship southwest around Honshu and up to Osaka, laying the foundation for what was to become the Kitamaebune trade route. He also led the largest contingent to support Tokugawa Ieyasu during the siege of Osaka in 1615. Following their victory over the Hideyoshi clan, Ieyasu offered Toshitsune the island of Shikoku in exchange for his Kaga domain. Toshitsune declined, and we can be glad he did.

The city developed around Kanazawa Castle, which shaped the layout of its streets, neighborhoods, gardens, and sophisticated water systems. Many Buddhist temples were relocated to the city’s outskirts to act as defensive perimeters, while Ikkō temples—historically linked to rebellious activities—were moved within the town for closer supervision. To mitigate the risk of uprisings, non-Ikkō temples were strategically placed to oversee the Ikkō sect temples.

The Maeda lords prioritized culture and education over military strength. They invited scholars and master artisans from across Japan, fostering the development of Kutani ware ceramics, lacquerware, metal casting, tea ceremony, Noh theater, and the geisha arts. This cultural patronage extended beyond the samurai elite, touching the lives of townspeople and granting them access to a level of sophistication rarely available in other regions.

By the late 19th century, Kanazawa had become Japan’s fourth-largest city, following Tokyo, Osaka, and Kyoto. However, the Meiji Restoration of 1868 shifted the political landscape, stripping the Maeda clan of power and centralizing authority in Tokyo. As Japan modernized, attention and resources were increasingly focused on the growing metropolises of Tokyo, Osaka, and Nagoya. As Kanazawa was left behind, its economy declined, threatening the continuation of its once-flourishing traditional crafts and cultural practices. Yet, its craftsmen and artisans carried on.

During the 20th century, Kanazawa was spared the devastation of World War II largely due to its limited industrial and military importance and its somewhat isolated position on Japan’s west coast. This fortunate outcome, combined with the city’s peaceful history under the Maeda clan during the Edo Period and its relative lack of natural disasters, has allowed entire districts of Edo-era architecture to survive intact.

In the post-war era, as Japan underwent rapid economic growth and globalization, Kanazawa drew on its rich cultural and intellectual heritage to merge its traditional crafts with contemporary art, nurturing a new creative cultural industry. This dedication to preserving and evolving its artistic legacy earned Kanazawa recognition as a UNESCO City of Crafts and Folk Art in 2009. The relocation of the National Crafts Museum from Tokyo to Kanazawa in 2020 further underscored this status. 

The legacy of the Maedas’ investment in the arts remains evident today. Kanazawa is well-known for its traditional crafts, including gold and silver leaf work, lacquerware, ceramics, and silk production, as well as its performing arts, such as Noh theater and geisha.

Kenrokuen, One of Japan’s Three Great Gardens

Japan has a well-known affection for “Three Greats,” a cultural quirk I’ve written about before. Tracing back to at least 1899, a beautiful example is the Three Great Gardens—Kairakuen in Mito, Kōrakuen in Okayama, and Kenrokuen in Kanazawa.

Each of these Three Greats is a strolling garden created by feudal lords near their castles in the early Edo era. One theory as to why those gardens were chosen is linked to the classic imagery of “snow, moon, and flowers” (雪月花). Kairakuen (偕楽園), famed for its 3,000 plum trees, evokes flowers (花). The stillness of the pond in Kōrakuen (後楽園) mirrors the moon (月). And Kenrokuen (兼六園) dazzles with the snow-draped beauty of its trees supported by yukitsuri (雪).

Kenrokuen, the jewel of Kanazawa, covers 114,436 square meters and has been open to the public since 1874. Its story began in 1676 when Maeda Tsunanori, the 5th lord of the Kaga Domain, laid the foundations with a landscape garden called Renchitei. A fire destroyed it in 1759, but the family restored it by 1774. In 1822, its name was changed to Kenrokuen, meaning “Garden of Six Elements,” a nod to a classical Chinese poem that elucidates the six contrasting qualities of an ideal garden: vast space, quiet seclusion, human artistry, timeless elegance, flowing water, and sweeping vistas. The poem suggests that uniting all six is nearly impossible—yet a walk through Kenrokuen proves otherwise.

As you wander its paths, these elements unfold naturally. The garden’s oldest fountain, Japan’s first powered by natural water pressure, marries human ingenuity with the rush of flowing water, its height rising and falling with the level of the nearby pond from which its stream flows. The terrain shifts subtly from secluded resting spots to sudden, expansive views, like the Kasumigaike pond that reflects the surrounding greenery and sky.

When the haiku poet Matsuo Basho visited Kanazawa in 1689 he left the following, now inscribed in stone:

あかあかと、日はつれなくも、秋の風

bright red burning
bitter sun…
but autumn in the wind

A small war memorial in the park, the Meiji Memorial, was erected in 1880 to honor 400 soldiers from Ishikawa Prefecture who lost their lives quelling a rebellion in southern Kyushu. The statue is cast in the form of the mythical hero Yamato Takeru, who, according to ancient legend, also suppressed a rebellion in Kyushu.

Gold Leaf

Gold leaf production in Kanazawa began in the late 16th century under the rule of the Maeda clan. While the Maeda actively promoted this art, their ambitions were curtailed by the Shogunate, which confined gold leaf production to designated regions like Edo and Kyoto. It wasn’t until these restrictions were lifted following the Meiji Restoration in the late 19th century that Kanazawa’s gold leaf industry blossomed into a public art form.

The process of creating gold leaf is both intricate and labor-intensive. It begins with a gold alloy—blended with traces of silver and copper—rolled into thin sheets by a mill. These sheets are then placed between layers of hakuuchi-gami, a handmade washi paper essential to the process. To make this paper, white washi is soaked in a brew of straw-ash lye, hot water, egg white, and persimmon tannin, then dried and pounded for three months until it becomes a smooth, durable, brownish sheet. The paper’s quality determines how thinly and uniformly the gold can be stretched.

The gold alloy is sandwiched between sheets of bound hakuuchi-gami, and machine-pounded for three days until it reaches an astonishing thinness of 0.0001 millimeters—so thin the gold leaf becomes translucent. Kanazawa produces 99% of Japan’s gold leaf and all of its silver and platinum leaf. Known collectively as Kanazawa haku, these delicate sheets are a shining example of the city’s traditional handicrafts.

I could go on about the wonders of Kanazawa—three geisha districts where working geiko bring history to life; the breathtaking garden behind Oyama Shrine and another in the Nomura Samurai House; the world-class museums; the Noh theater; and the bustling Omicho Market running over with fresh seafood and energetic merchants. It’s no wonder that Kanazawa is one of my favorite cities. The lingering influence of the Maeda clan radiates through its prosperity, timeless traditions, and continually evolving arts. I hope you will one day have the chance to experience this beautiful city.

The post Kanazawa’s Impressive Golden Culture first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

The ultimate in sacrifice for others

For centuries, some individuals in Japan willingly underwent the grueling process of sokushinbutsu, 即身仏, self-mummification. This extreme ritual was believed to lead to enlightenment and would transform the practitioner into a Living Buddha. The characters of sokushinbutsu—即 “at once,” 身 “this body,” and 仏 “Buddha”—reveal its meaning. These transcendent beings are revered for their ultimate sacrifice, having dedicated themselves to alleviating the suffering of others caused by illness, epidemics, and famines. 

Self-mummification dates back to ancient China and was later brought to Japan, where it evolved under the influence of Kūkai (774–835), the founder of Shingon Buddhism. Kūkai’s esoteric teaching emphasized that through rigorous spiritual practice, one could attain Buddhahood in their present existence — a concept known as sokushin jōbutsu. 

According to tradition, Kūkai himself achieved this state over 1,200 years ago. Today, he remains in eternal meditation within his mausoleum at Okunoin—an expansive, ancient cemetery within the Kōyasan temple complex in Wakayama Prefecture. To this day, monks continue to offer him meals each morning and night.

Dewa Sanzan

I was given the rare opportunity of visiting one of these living Buddhas in the mountains of the Dewa Sanzan, which consists of the sacred peaks of Mount Haguro, Mount Gassan, and Mount Yudono in northern Yamagata Prefecture. The Dewa Sanzan is home to the most known sokushinbutsu, with six of Japan’s 18 known mummies, although both these numbers are disputed.

I use the term “known” because, at the start of the Meiji era (1868–1912), self-mummification was outlawed, and the locations of those who had recently undergone the process were lost. Many more sokushinbutsu may remain hidden in remote mountain regions, still waiting to be exhumed. In fact, several previously unknown mummies were discovered by chance in 1959.

But sokushinbutsu are not the only mummies in Japan. Four generations of the Northern Fujiwara family were embalmed, mummified, and interred beneath the altars of the golden Konjikidō at Chūsonji temple in Iwate Prefecture. Well, only the head of the youngest.

How to become a living Buddha

Achieving self-mummification required adhering to a strict diet, sometimes for as long as ten years, to prevent decomposition after eventual death by starvation. The practitioner undertook mokujiki shugyō, “tree eating,” to reduce body tissue as much as possible. Practitioners abstained from eating gokoku-dachi, the five staple grains—rice, barley, soybeans, foxtail millet, and proso millet. Instead, they consumed the products of the forest, such as nuts, berries, pine needles, bark, resin, and the cores of bamboo leaves. As the months passed, the amount eaten was reduced.

The idea was to eliminate all fat and any substances that could contribute to bodily decay after death. The long, slow process of deliberate desiccation began with the body burning fat, which reduced subcutaneous fat and moisture levels—primary causes of decay. The practitioner would remain still, allowing the body to consume muscle as an alternate source of glucose.

To help the body become less prone to decomposition, some practitioners are thought to have consumed pine-needle tea or urushi, the sap of the lacquer tree. Pine-needle tea is believed to destroy gut bacteria, preventing them from consuming the body post-mortem. Similarly, drinking urushi may have served as a form of internal preservation, helping to deter decay.

This torturous lifestyle continued for 3,000 days—days filled with the chanting of sutras. When his body had withered to little more than skin and bones, the practitioner moved to an underground chamber, about three meters deep, where he was essentially buried alive. A bamboo tube inserted through the ceiling provided oxygen. 

In the complete darkness of this nyūjō-zuka, chamber of enlightenment, he sat meditating, fasting, and chanting sutras while ringing a bell. When the bell ceased to ring, it signaled he had entered metsushinjō — the extinction of the mind and attainment of stillness. His chamber was then sealed for three years.

This ritual was beyond harsh, and it was hardly foolproof. Many who attempted the process failed, dying before they achieved their goal. Or perhaps their bodies decayed even after enduring the severe 3,000-day regimen.

Shonin Honmyōkai

The sokushinbutsu that I encountered was at the Honmyōji temple in Tsuruoka, Yamagata. His name is Shonin Honmyōkai, and he entered nyūjō in 1683.

In his youth, he was a samurai named Togashi Yoshibei, who served the Shonai clan. When he was 39, his lord became deathly ill. Yoshibei and other vassals went to sacred Mount Yudono to pray for his healing. His lord was, indeed, healed.

But, instead of returning to the service of his lord, as was expected, Yoshibei stayed on Mount Yudono to continue his Buddhist prayers. Enraged by what he saw as desertion, his lord punished him by canceling his marriage and withholding his salary. Undeterred, Yoshibei entered Chūrenji Temple as a disciple and took the name Honmyōkai to mark the beginning of his new life of asceticism. The “kai” in his name is the kanji kai 海, taken in honor of Kūkai.

Moved by the hardships and recurring famines endured by the villagers living near the temple, he resolved to become a Buddha who could intercede on their behalf. He yearned to help ease their suffering and save them from their difficult lives. With this goal in mind, he began his nine-year process of self-mummification.

Honmyōkai endured a life of extreme asceticism. He slept outside, experienced countless insect bites, and ate and slept little. From a spot overlooking settlements and fields, he ceaselessly prayed for the local people’s prosperity and chanted sutras. As the years passed, his body gradually shrank and lost strength.

When sufficiently weak, he did what he could to help prepare the chamber where he would be entombed. In the darkness of this underground crypt, he continued to pray and chant. Finally, his bell ceased to ring, and those keeping vigil knew that he had entered nyūjyō—the state of eternal meditation transcending ordinary consciousness, as Kūkai had done before him.

His tomb was sealed. 

A Living Buddha

Three years later, Honmyōkai’s tomb was opened to see if he had succeeded with mummification and had thus attained a high spiritual state. His body was completely preserved. He had become a Living Buddha and could intercede for those in need. Since then, he has been enshrined at Honmyōji temple as a Buddha. He is still worshipped today.

Every twelve years, his garments are changed in a solemn and private ritual. His old robes are cut, and small pieces are enclosed in cloth packets sold as omamori, charms believed to bring blessings and protection to those who carry them. 

As the priest of Honmyōji reminded me, the blessings and conveniences we enjoy today are thanks to the sacrifices and efforts of those who came before us — Honmyōkai and countless others. This humbling realization behooves us to follow in their footsteps, ensuring future generations inherit a world enriched by our efforts, kindness, and commitment to the greater good of humanity.

The post Sokushinbutsu—The Fascinating Practice of Self-Mummification to Attain Buddhahood first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

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.

Bonfires blaze across the countryside of Japan in early to mid-January each year

Dondoyaki, どんど焼き, sometimes called Sagichō, 左義長, are great bonfires where communities gather to burn their New Year‘s pine and bamboo decorations while sending the Toshi-kami, the God of the New Year, back to the realm of the spirits. This event marks the end of the New Year’s festivities.

This custom finds its roots in the Heian Era (794-1185) ceremony of Sagichō, 左義長, where aristocrats would gather at the imperial court and burn their New Year’s decorations in a carefully constructed bonfire on the top of which were hung a folding fan or tanzaku, long narrow strips of paper upon which wishes are written. A diviner would sing as the fire raged.

The sacredness of the fire led to the belief that being touched by sparks would ensure health and vigor for the year. Burning the first calligraphy of the year was a sure way for the gods to help the writer improve their skills. And as the fire died down, eating delicious dango rice dumplings and mochi roasted on the embers would protect from sicknesses during the year.

As the centuries passed, this custom made its way to the common people, and it is how people came to celebrate Dondoyaki today.

The bonfires are usually held around January 15th, a day traditionally called Koshōgatsu, 小正月, Little New Year’s Day. Although local customs respect different dates for Koshōgatsu, that day marks the end of the New Year’s celebrations. A variety of events are held across the country on Koshōgatsu — from people dressing as demons and scaring children into good behavior to peacefully eating rice gruel mixed with adzuki beans. But the most universal is Dondoyaki.

Dondoyaki

In early January, using a wide space within the grounds of a shrine, a rice field, or an empty lot, communities gather new bamboo, straw, and branches and build a tower-like pile that will be the base of the bonfire.

On the day of Dondoyaki, people bring their new year’s decorations, noshi wrapping paper from winter gifts, and the children’s first calligraphy of the year to be tossed into the flames. Simply throwing those things away is considered to be disrespectful and terribly unlucky. Using them as a means to send off the Toshi-kami is best.

Roasting mochi

As the fire dies down, young and old alike put pieces of mochi rice cakes on sticks and roast them in the fire like marshmallows, just as the Heian aristocrats did over 1,000 years ago. Sometimes the adults are served hot sake or, as in Kagoshima in the south, sweet potato shochu mixed with hot water.

Dondoyaki is not just a way to send off the Toshi-kami, but it is a wonderful way to strengthen community bonds — and enjoy nice warm roasted mochi.

There is one more fire during this period worth mentioning, and that is done exclusively by Shinto priests.

Burning the previous year’s amulets

On New Year’s Day or shortly thereafter, people pay their first visit to a Shinto shrine, called Hatsumōde, 初詣. People flock to shrines, both small and large, to bring their fuda household protection amulets, daruma dolls, and omamori lucky charms to be ritually burned by the Shinto priest. They pray for blessing, protection, success, and prosperity in the months to come. Then they line up to buy new omamori and fuda protection amulets for a fresh start for the new year.

To read about Kagoshima’s unique version of Dondoyaki, go to Giant Bonfires Banish Demons.

References:

図説民俗探訪事典 compiled by 大島 暁雄, 1982, kotobank, ウェザーニュース

The post Dondoyaki—Burning New Year’s Decorations to Send off the God of the New Year first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

The Obon Festival of Japan

Each year, families across Japan welcome home the spirits of their ancestors during the three-day festival of Obon. It is most widely observed in mid-August, although the timing and type of celebrations vary by region and local customs.

Some areas in northeastern Honshu follow the lunar calendar’s date for this holiday and hold their Obon festivals in July. Some areas of southwestern Honshu, Shikoku Island, and Okinawa celebrate Obon in September.

Obon’s origin

The Obon festival traces its origin to Buddha’s disciple, Mokuren, whose mother had fallen into the world of the hungry ghosts, an unpleasant realm in the afterlife. His heart ached to imagine her suffering.

In answer to his appeal for help, the Buddha instructed him to make an offering to his fellow disciple monks of a wide variety of food, and not only his mother, but also the last seven generations of his ancestors would be saved.

Mokuren obeyed the Buddha, placing his offerings of food on a tray, or obon, which is said to give the festival its name. He then danced a dance of joy, filled with a mix of newfound gratitude toward his mother, and the joy of knowing that she and his other ancestors had been released.

So Mokuren gave us three important Obon traditions:

• Offerings
• Gratitude towards mother
• Dance of joy

Now we’ll see how these have developed into today’s Obon festivities.

Welcome home, Spirits!

Families return to their ancestral homes to welcome the spirits of their departed ancestors on August 13th. Many people go to their family’s graves to accompany the spirits back to their houses, some lighting fires to guide the way. At the threshold of the house, water is set out for the spirits to wash their feet before entering.

Inside the house, a shelf is constructed with a frame of bamboo or chestnut, laid with a board. This is called a Bon-Dana, and it will hold offerings to the ancestors’ spirits. Traditionally, a rush mat is placed on the shelf, upon which are placed flowers, incense, rice dumplings, noodles, vegetables, fruit, and most importantly, water. Front and center is placed a mortuary tablet —a stone tablet inscribed with the names of the family’s deceased—like a place-marker at a banquet. Behind all this is hung a decorative scroll.

The recently deceased are honored with elaborate bamboo and cedar leaf decorations placed in the front yard or under the eaves of the house. They have not yet joined the collective ancestral spirit of their family, or Sorei. After 33 or 50 years, depending on the tradition, they will finally lose their individuality and merge with the Sorei.

Each family’s Sorei visits them four times a year, at Obon, at New Year’s, and at the spring and fall equinoxes.

But what of Homeless Spirits?

Muenbotoke are spirits of those who have died an unnatural death, at sea, along the road, or those who have no family to look after their graves. If left to themselves, it is believed that they will bring harm, so these spirits, too, are honored at Obon.

Although these strangers have no place on the family’s Bon-Dana, people may build a simple shelf and lay out food, such as eggplants and cucumbers wrapped in leaves, for the Muenbotoke. Others may lay big taro leaves upon the floor beneath the family’s Bon-Dana, upon which offerings of food are placed.

Gratitude to the living

Obon is not just about the dead. Elderly parents are given gifts of special food and drink in a show of appreciation and filial affection.

Dancing

Hearkening back to Mokuren’s dance of joy, Bon-Odori are dances held during the Obon holidays. People dress in colorful summer yukatas and dance a synchronized dance through the streets or in circles around a raised platform at shrines. Besides sending the spirits on their way to the realm of the dead with gratitude and joy, the dances also serve as prayers to ward off potential haunting or curses.

Until we meet again

On the night of August 16th, many families walk to their family graves to send their ancestors back to the spirit world. But there are other customs.

Perhaps because people in days past felt the world of the dead was across the sea, or above the sky, various traditions developed. Some people wrap offerings in lotus leaves or reeds and send their ancestors off in these makeshift boats down the river. Others form boats from straw and release their ancestors’ spirits into the sea, while others place paper lanterns on the water for their ancestors’ spirits to ride back to the spirit realm.

Most famously, the Kyoto Gozan no Okuribi is held to send the spirits off to the heavens. Five great fires are lit on five mountains surrounding Kyoto City, one by one starting at 8pm on August 16th, each forming a different Japanese character.

In some sections of the country, people prepare Shōryō-uma, horses and cows made from cucumbers and eggplants, for the spirits to ride back into the realm of the dead.

There the spirits will continue learning and growing until their next, not so widely celebrated, visit during the autumn equinox.

All photos ©Diane Tincher, unless otherwise noted.

Sources:

図説民俗探訪事典 compiled by 大島 雄, kotobank.jp, http://www.shingon.org/, and many more Japanese webpages.

The post Obon—The Happy Homecoming of the Ghosts first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

For centuries, daughters have been the focus of celebration on Hinamatsuri

One of the Five Seasonal Festivals

Hinamatsuri, the Dolls’ Festival, is a special Japanese day of celebration for girls in which elaborate sets of courtly dolls are displayed in all homes with daughters and in various public places. The day is also known as the Peach Festival and the Girls’ Festival. 

Hinamatsuri falls on the 3rd day of the 3rd month and is one of the five seasonal festivals, go-sekku. These were imported from Tang Dynasty China in the 8th century as days to banish misfortune and to wish for good luck and good health in the coming season.

Each of the five seasonal festivals falls on a lucky day — 1/1 (moved to 1/7 so as not to overlap with New Year’s Day), 3/3, 5/5, 7/7, and 9/9 according to the lunar calendar. With the adoption of the Gregorian calendar in 1872, these holidays were moved to Western dates that mirrored their former auspicious odd-numbered lunar months and days.

Heian Era Roots

During the Heian Era (794–1185), aristocratic children played with paper or straw dolls. Reflecting ancient Shinto thought, these dolls came to be used as vessels into which impurities were transferred. A springtime custom called nagashi-bina developed, in which dolls imbued with the children’s “sins” were placed in streams to wash out to sea, thereby purifying the children.

The third lunar month was when the peach trees blossomed. These delicate pink blossoms were thought to ward off evil spirits, and they have become an integral part of Hinamatsuri decorations.

Courtly Dolls

During the more than two centuries of peace during the Edo Era (1603–1867), the simple paper and straw dolls of the Heian children transformed into the elaborate and beautiful dolls we see today. These dolls embodied the Edo Era people’s image of the elegance and refinement of the Heian imperial court. 

Hina Doll sets originally contained only one male and one female, a Heian Era emperor and empress, which were to take upon themselves the impurities of the children. As the years passed, the number of dolls increased to include a complete royal retinue with all their accoutrements. 

The sets grew to occupy either 5 or 7 tiers. The dolls were displayed before and during the Hinamatsuri, with the prayer that they would bring good fortune and a happy marriage to the girls in the family.

Hina Dolls Today — What Is on Each Tier

Let’s take a look at a Hina Doll display. The photo above shows an elaborate, yet typical, traditional doll set.

Tier 1

The emperor and empress hold the place of honor seated in front of a gold folding screen. These dolls do not represent a specific royal couple, with the rare exception of some sets that were made in the late 1800s to represent Emperor Meiji and Empress Shōken.

As is the custom, the male doll is holding a shaku, or ritual baton. The female is holding a folding fan. They are flanked by two paper lanterns called bonbori.

Between them are vases of miniature peach branches, a decoration called sanbō kazari, which one imagines was given as an offering to the couple.

The male on the left signifies that this set is a Tokyo style set. Those of the Kyoto style have the male on the right.

Tier 2

Three ladies-in-waiting occupy the second tier, ready at a moment’s notice to pour sake for the happy couple. 

Separating the ladies are two tables holding pink and white mochi — pounded sticky rice cakes. 

The colors pink and white are often used for celebratory events. White symbolizes long life and fertility, and red or pink is traditionally used to ward off evil.

Tier 3

Musicians wait upon this level, ready to entertain the royal couple. Four men hold instruments — a flute and three different types of drums — and the singer holds a fan.

Tier 4

On this tier we have the highest ranking aristocrat, the elderly Minister of the Left, and the next highest ranking, the younger Minister of the Right.

Between the men are tables to hold festive foods and diamond-shaped tables holding diamond-shaped sweets called hishi-mochi, a specialty reserved for Hinamatsuri. 

Hishi-mochi are layered mochi cakes in pink and white, with a green layer added to represent good health, and in some areas, a yellow level symbolizing nanohana flowers, some of the first to bloom in spring.

Tier 5

Upon this level sit three guards or helpers, each with an interesting name: the quarrelsome drinker, the maudlin drinker, and the merry drinker.

True to the actual trees in the royal palace in Heian, there is a tachibana orange tree on the western side and a cherry blossom tree on the eastern side.

Tier 6

Here you will find items one needs inside the house — tiny dressers, long chests for kimono storage, chests for clothing, mirror stands, hibachi braziers, boxes of tea ceremony utensils, and even a sewing box.

Tier 7

Finally, we have things the couple would need for traveling — a palanquin in which to be carried, nested boxes for food, and an oxcart for the many chests of clothing. 

About Hina Dolls

Classic Hina dolls are still made in the traditional way. Starting with a wood, straw, and paper base, the dolls are clothed in many layers of silk, stuffed with cotton to create the form, and finally finished with a delicate face carved from wood and covered with gofun, a layer of ground oyster shell and glue to give the face a pure white finish. Long hair made from silk or real hair is attached and styled in the ancient Heian fashion.

Hina dolls and their furnishings are very costly works of fine craftsmanship. Just one doll can take up to six months to create. Some sets are considered family heirlooms and are passed down from mother to daughter through generations.

The dolls can be displayed from the first day of spring  —  the day after the demons have been vanquished on Setsubun  —  and enjoyed throughout the month and on Hinamatsuri at the beginning of March. 

Women are admonished to put all the dolls away the day after Hinamatsuri. Failing to do so was believed to result in a daughter marrying late.

Hinamatsuri Food and Drink

What would a Japanese holiday be without special food? Here are a few of the celebratory foods for Hinamatsuri.

• Hina arare — crunchy, colored, rice cracker balls.
• Hishi mochi — multi colored mochi cakes stacked in diamond shapes. The diamond shape is also considered lucky.
• Ichigo daifuku — strawberries covered in sweet azuki bean paste and mochi — have recently joined the ranks of Hinamatsuri treats.
• Sakura mochi — azuki bean paste filled pink mochi cakes, wrapped in edible cherry blossom leaves.
• Ushio jiru — a clear soup made from hamaguri clams. As clams have two connected shells, they signify the wish for a happy marriage.
• Chirashi zushi — sushi rice into which is mixed, for example, simmered carrots, mushrooms, and lotus root, then topped with shrimp and/or sashimi, egg, and nanohana florets. Probably every cook makes it differently, while sticking to the pink, white, green, and yellow motif.
• Ama zake — sweet, thick beverage made from rice koji, the fermented rice used to make sake and miso paste. It is non-alcoholic and is considered healthy.
• White sake — strong, sweet sake with a cloudy white color.

In recent years, people have started to forgo traditional sweets in favor of beautiful, store-bought cakes, but no one with daughters will ever forgo celebrating Hinamatsuri.

The post Hinamatsuri—A Joyous Day for Girls in Japan 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.