Little-Known Traditional Japanese Cuisine

In the halcyon days before the coronavirus pandemic halted all inbound travel to Japan, I was blessed to take curious foreigners on hiking tours through rural Japan. One favorite route was the Nakasendo Way, 中山道, “the way through the mountains.”

The Nakasendo Way and the Tokaido were the two roads that linked Kyoto to Edo (Tokyo) during the Edo Era (1603–1867). Feudal lords were required to maintain one residence in Edo, where their wives and children lived, and another in their home province. By order of the Tokugawa shoguns, they had to alternate years spent in each locale.

To support this enforced travel, post towns were created at fairly regular intervals along these routes. These towns supplied the lords and their large entourages, as well as other travelers, with lodging, meals, straw sandals, and porters and horses for hire.

In one such former post town, I experienced a quite unexpected culinary delight.

Shinchaya Inn

It was always a joy to step into the entranceway at Shinchaya, 新茶屋, “New Tea House.” The inn is run by two generations, and they are the kindest and most welcoming people you can imagine.

The elderly father, now in his 80s, grows the rice and vegetables that are served in their meals. He also forages for wild vegetables and other delights, and hunts wild boar.

After my guests and I take turns in the bath and change into our yukatas, we are ready for our 6 pm dinner in the dining room. The meal is a feast, laid out on low tables in the spacious tatami room.

Exotic Foods

Let me preface this by saying I do not consider myself an adventurous eater. Yet, I have tried a few foods that are nothing like what I ate growing up in northern Virginia.

Years ago, I tried grilled raccoon, squirrel, and possum when visiting a friend who was keen on surviving in the wild for months at a time.

My favorite dish when I lived in Hong Kong in my early 20s was minced pigeon, not something I would consider ordinary fare.

In Japan, I’ve dined on sea cucumber, jellyfish, ray, and, on numerous occasions, raw blowfish, fugu-sashimi. Raw blowfish is rubbery, nearly tasteless, and leaves your mouth feeling a little tingly.

I have had raw chicken, tori-sashi, a specialty of Kagoshima, my adopted home in southern Kyushu. I had to politely refuse, though, when a farmer offered me a plate with raw chicken liver, heart, and gizzard.

I’ve eaten raw egg over rice (not a fan) and fermented, slimy soybeans called natto. That highly nutritious food took me eight years to get used to, but now I actually choose to eat it on occasion.

I have partaken of fish heads, served at a restaurant near the Ise Grand Shrine where the former emperor has eaten.

Along with raw chicken, another southern Kyushu delicacy that is also found in Nagano and other areas of the country is raw horse. Yes, I have eaten it.

But none of those exotic dishes quite prepared me for what came with my beautiful dinner at Shinchaya.

Dinner at Shinchaya

Comfortable, relaxed, and warm after soaking in the hot hinoki cypress tubs of the inn, we are ready for dinner.

A feast is laid out for us. Tempura vegetables from the owner’s garden. Pickled horsetails, bamboo shoots, and other wild vegetables. Stewed wild boar hunted by the innkeeper. Fresh fish from a nearby river. Salmon sashimi. Rice from the terraces next door. Miso soup. A locally baked bun called oyaki, made from fermented buckwheat dough wrapped around bean paste or vegetables.

And…

Crickets!

Well, they aren’t actually crickets, although they look like them. They are called inago, rice grasshoppers. Stir-fried in soy sauce, sake, and sugar, they taste… well, how shall I describe them?

Crunchy. They are crunchy.

The innkeeper tells me that from his childhood he gathered inago at dawn and dusk from around his family’s rice paddies. That is when they become active and are easier to catch.

“So, did you catch these?” I ask him.

“I’m too old for that now. I buy them at the local agricultural cooperative.”

Although I am not keen on eating insects, and have politely refused to eat bee larvae served at a fancy dinner, these crunchy crickets are definitely worth trying.

Another local delicacy

A delicacy of that region that I have not tried is the Asian giant hornet, called suzu-bachi. Warning signs along trails caution us in areas where they have been spotted. Their pack-like attacks can be lethal.

Yet according to the New York Times,

“The grubs are often preserved in jars, pan-fried or steamed with rice to make a savory dish called hebo-gohan. The adults, which can be two inches long, are fried on skewers, stinger and all, until the carapace becomes light and crunchy. They leave a warming, tingling sensation when eaten.

“The hornets can also give liquor an extra kick. Live specimens are drowned in shochu, a clear distilled beverage. In their death throes, the insects release their venom into the liquid, and it is stored until it turns a dark shade of amber.”

I think I’ll give those a hard pass.

The post A Japanese Rural Innkeeper Served Me the Most Exotic Food I Have Ever Eaten first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Why are there so many slippers?

The Japanese have a highly refined aesthetic regarding shoes and cleanliness. Signs at the entrances to temples, shrines, traditional inns, and many restaurants indicate that shoes should be removed before entering. There is generally a step up in the genkan entrance area where this should be done. 

The concept is simple. 

The lower level is dirty, “outside.”

The upper step is clean, “inside.”

The dirty outside should never be trod upon with socks. The raised inside should never be touched by a shoe, not even to rest your boot on while tying your laces. There is a clear line of division—the step up. 

There are generally three areas that require shoe changes.

Entering an inn, traditional restaurant, or hot springs

In the genkan, step out of your shoes and directly onto the raised inside area. Then turn your shoes with the toes pointing outside, neatly side by side, or if there is a shoe shelf, place them tidily on the shelf. 

Usually, you will be given slippers to wear inside a building. 

Often there are outside slippers in the genkan to use for short trips outside when you don’t want to bother putting on your shoes.

Tatami rooms

Tatami mats are made of woven reeds and are delicate. One does not walk upon them with shoes, nor should one pull a suitcase along them. When entering a tatami room, slip out of your slippers and step onto the tatami, leaving your slippers with toes pointing outwards, neatly lined up in the hall or room entranceway.

Restrooms

A restroom floor is considered dirty, and thus there are designated toilet slippers. When going into the restroom, step out of your inside slippers and into the toilet slippers. You will see a clear line of division, either a step, a doorway, or a division marked on the floor.

When you’re done, leave the toilet slippers with toes pointing away from the entry area, neatly side by side and ready for the next person to use.

Don’t forget to put your inside slippers back on.

Shoe etiquette in Japan made simple

When there is a step up from an entranceway or hall, you probably need to change your footwear.

Finally

Leave things as you found them, or tidier. Being aware of the customs of the land will help you to have a pleasant visit and to avoid jarring the sensibilities of the Japanese. 

To read the dos and don’ts for visiting onsens, or hot springs, click this link.

The post Essential Shoe Etiquette in Japan—3 Important Times to Change Your Shoes first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.