No beating around the bush at this time of year. What's needed is good wholesome nourishing fare, with a hint (or more) of chili spice. Here are three recent winter warmers that have hit the spot...
Oyster and tasai pho, with hints of coriander and lemongrass — at Meets, in the back streets of Shibuya...
Ishi-yaki bibimbap — at Hanchanne, also in Shibuya, right across from Hands...
...and ramen at Ichikanjin — formerly of Hachioji but now well established in new digs in Kamakura.
Only black pepper here, no chili. But you've got to love the bowls!
The persimmons are done: now it's time to dry some satsuma imo sweet potatoes. These have to be steamed, peeled and sliced, before being laid out on a woven bamboo tray — loose mesh to allow plenty of air circulation.
At the same time, he's preparing some kiriboshi (literally "cut and dried") daikon. That is just shredded raw and then left out in the cold winter air to concentrate all its nutrients.
I love this shop, especially the little display of good-luck amulets over the cutting board...
It's so tidy and organized, no wonder this fishmonger has won certificates for the cleanliness of his operation.
Outside one of our local sake shops, the new sugidama hangs fresh and green and aromatic. These balls of cedar sprigs bound together to form a bushy globe — I've heard them described as disco balls from the forest — are much more than just decoration. They're also packed with symbolism and significance.
Long associated with the sake breweries, these sugidama are displayed each autumn as the new season's sake is released. Seen under the eaves of a shop or izakaya tavern, they are a statement to customers and passers-by alike that fresh supplies of sake have come in.
And even if you can't read the characters on the sign dangling underneath, you can guess that something special has been delivered. It's the taruzake — sake that is shipped in and dispensed from large wooden barrels.
These are not delicate daiginjo brews; they are robust and viscous, tasting prominently of cedar resin — think of taruzake as the retsina of the sake world — but they too have their special meaning. They tell us that the New Year is just around the corner.
Kan-buri, yellowtail caught in winter, is one of the major delicacies of the season. So when we spotted one the other day — the first time our local market had got them in — it was too tempting to miss.
This handsome fellow was landed in Toyama on the Japan Sea coast and trucked down overnight to our market in Kanto. It was still incredibly gleaming fresh.
At ¥3,880 for a quarter, and four times that for the whole fish, tennen buri ("wild" — ie not fish-farmed — yellowtail) is certainly not cheap. But it will get even pricier just ahead of the New Year holidays. Plus a quarter of a fish this size provides at least three meals.
The big question always is: belly or back? This time we chose the former, because it's so rich and fatty, perfect for sashimi if it's as fresh as this. When we buy for the New Year we prefer to get the back section, as it's leaner and keeps better — and also goes better in our ozoni soup (most people in this part of the country use chicken, but we've usually had our fill of fowl after all the Christmas feasting).
It's always fascinating watching the market guys prepare the fish for us (the old guy as often as not with a smouldering cigarette in his mouth). It's the effortless ease that comes from years — if not generations — of experience. That and incredibly sharp knives.
Here is the younger guy in action, cutting up our order...
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