Japanese Roots Tokushima, Kagawa and Okayama
THERE’S THE JAPAN we know by way of its major cities: Pop culture and bright lights set the tone in Tokyo’s Harajuku and Shinjuku neighbourhoods and Osaka’s Dotonbori. High-fashion luxury and dining are front and centre in Tokyo’s Ginza and Maronuchi. Bento boxes of every description and fancy edible gift kiosks abound in the food markets of the Daimaru and Mitsukoshi department stores and the JR (Japan Rail) Stations in Tokyo, Osaka, Kobe and Kyoto.
…The scenery begins to resemble Edo-era paintings…
But there’s another Japan awaiting travellers in the Tokushima, Kagawa and Okayama prefectures in the southern end of Central Japan. The soul of this area is not defined by the adrenaline rush of urban streets, but by the calm of the mountains, Seto Inland Sea, small towns, islands and villages.
My visit took place as summer was transitioning into fall. Some areas were still lush and green, while others were ablaze with fall leaves. I had a front-row seat to this extended silk screen of hues and textures from the windows of local and regional trains and in a small bus driving over steep, slender roads. Some may argue that transit is not the most interesting part of a journey. I begged to differ, watching the changes in topography unfold before my eyes, ice-cold Minute Maid yuzu juice in hand.
Local ryokan (such as Tsurugata in historic Kurashiki City, Okayama) and mountainside onsen resorts (like Obokekyo Mannaka just beyond Tokushima City) serve variations of the formal kaiseki (multi-course) Japanese lunches and dinners, with beautifully arranged small courses. Western breakfasts are prepared through a decidedly local lens, and often in small courses. Independent restaurateurs and banquet halls offering French and Italian-style meals transform European techniques into something completely different when local fish and produce are factored in.
Everything that makes the region’s cuisine special can be tasted in flavour profiles that are less sweet than North American iterations of Japanese food and earthier and more herbaceous than similar dishes in Tokyo and Kyoto restaurants. Smooth, refined textures are supplanted by hearty, nutty ones that are perfect foils for small-batch sakes and chilled craft beers. Some cooks we encountered apologized that their food presentation might be “less gorgeous” than what we may have found in Tokyo or Kyoto, where “cusine as art” can be taken to precious extremes. We begged to differ with those cooks, as we observed as much care was put into the preparation and plating as in any big city establishment.
To experience the Okayama, Kagawa and Tokushima prefectures as the Japanese do, we stayed at hotels created for the Japanese market. Our journey’s starting point was the Bikan Historical Quarter of Kurashiki, once a town of storehouses running along the Takahashi River. Its cultural heart, the Ohara Museum of Art, is noted for its superb collection of paintings by El Greco, Monet, Matisse, Gauguin, and Renoir in one building, with Asian ceramics and contemporary art filling another. Our first kaiseki lunch at the Tsurukata Hotel, followed the visual feast. As if influenced by the Ohara exhibits, presentation was built on delicately crafted morsels served in pretty bowls and dishes against a sunlit garden backdrop. Numerous specialty food shops, pottery galleries and denim boutiques along Kurashiki’s main streets followed this aesthetic cue.
Staples of our kaiseki meals included tempura, thick cut sashimi (with ocean and local river fish), shellfish, rice, brothstyle soup, boiled pork, mamakari (a regional herring), tofu, seasonal mushrooms and chestnuts. Even as flavours and ingredients varied from region to region, every single “set” prepared was an event to be lingered over, each item a topic of conversation. At every venue, a specific etiquette is followed. Shoes are removed before you enter the room. Sake, beer or water is always poured or refilled by your fellow diner. When you stay at a hotel such as the Obokekyo Mannaka or the Kiyomisanso Hanajukai in Takamatsu, Kagawa, it is advised to suit up in the yukata (a casual cotton cousin to the kimono) provided in one’s room.
The next day, we took another regional train into Takamatsu City and then a ferry bound for the normally quiet island communities in the Seto Inland Sea. Ogijima, our destination, was not just a stop on the Setouchi Trienniale International Art Festival circuit but also one of Japan’s “cat islands,” introduced to feline lovers worldwide on YouTube. Even with interactive art installations, good hiking, roughhewn historic temples, the Onba stroller/wagon factory, and meowing balls of cuteness, it’s the food culture that completes the island experience.
While street food lovers can partake in just-caught-andfried oysters sold near the marina, Café Iori captures the Setouchi Trienniale installations in edible form. Reservations are a must in this tiny house with a 16-guest capacity, enlivened with bright colours, books and art photographs. The food, which owner Mr Maeda (a former executive chef in Osaka) bills as “French,” takes on fresh new life with ingredients harvested in a garden steps from his establishment. Fifteen US dollars bought us a three-course meal of a salad topped with sea perch, a noibe (white fish) main course in mustard sauce served with a buckwheat crêpe, and a sweet potato gratin.
The next day, our guide and driver led us inland to Tokushima farm country and Mima, a city established in 2005 by absorbing numerous towns including Wakimachi, which in its 17th–18th century heyday was a merchant hub on the Yoshino River and later a hub for textile production and indigo dyeing. Udatsu Street is lined with many former private homes and businesses crowned with udatsu — walls made from a clay material that prevented the spread of fire from house to house. The buildings now house boutique food shops, a museum in the former Yoshida Family residence, and cafés such as Funatoto, serving soba soups and warabi, a dessert of mochi covered in nutty soy powder.
After a stop at Miyoshi City’s Lantern Shop (providing mood lighting and décor for discerning customers since 1610) to see 11th-generation craftsman Masanobu Miyoshi defy gravity with wood and paper, we head to the Kiyomisanso Hanajukai Ryokan. Here we notice the flavour profiles become even earthier. Sea bream starts making regular appearances,
both in sashimi and cooked forms. Miyoshi City is also home to small family-owned sake producers, such as Ima Komachi, presented with the dual challenge of maintaining generations of brewing traditions while responding to the changing demand for varied sake varieties in Japan and beyond, according to owner Morihiko Nakamura.
As one drives deeper into the Shikoku Mountains through the Iya Valley, the scenery begins to resemble Edo-era paintings. Modern strip malls of Miyoshi City give way to slender roads that lead up the slope to hidden finds such as the Tsuzuki Soba Atelier. Its spirited 70-something owner, Reiko Tsuzuki offers classes on how to craft fresh buckwheat noodles and serves meals with tempura venison, sweet potatoes, herbs, and foraged mushroom along with hand-pressed iwa-dofu (“stone tofu”). Of course, the main attraction is her freshly made soba noodles, served either cold or in a broth made from dried sardines, shiitake mushrooms and kelp.
Tsuzuki considers herself a “food preservationist.” As roads and transportation improved in the once-isolated area, she had to close her bakery and figure out how to support her children. After a neighbour invited her to sample her homemade udon noodles, Tsuzuki was so impressed that she opened up the restaurant and atelier to educate people from Japan and abroad about the value of keeping old recipes and techniques alive.
“As young people buy prepared meals at their local delicatessen, I can see why they may resist making things from scratch, as doing this costs money and recipes take a lot of time to prepare,” she says. “However, they are doing this at the risk of losing their family’s food heritage, forgetting how to use ingredients to make those old traditional recipes their own.”
As time passed, word got out and people from around the world now seek out her restaurant and atelier.
The literal and figurative pinnacle of our Tokushima exploration was a home stay at Tougenkyo-Iya Mountain Village. The century-old thatched farmhouse cottages were restored and repurposed under direction of American-born Japanese preservationist and historian Alex Kerr, and the Chiiori Trust organization. Most are outfitted with well-equipped modern kitchens, and provisions can be brought in prior to arrival as there are few shops in the immediate area. Guests can also arrange for a local mom or grandmother to come to the house and prepare
a feast that may include shabu-shabu and adaptations of spring rolls, ginger potatoes, sweet and sour tofu, roasted konnyaku and vegetables from their community garden — the same things she would serve her own family.
Cafés we visited for breakfast, (such as MiyoshiHigashiiyaochiai), are operated by former city-dwellers who embrace simple food that feels so perfect when matcha green tea and mountain views complete the picture.
Even with the advantages that modernity brings into our lives, there are times when we want to turn off the iPhone, reflect on the past, and just let life happen. It’s heartwarming to know there are still places in Japan — land of innovation — that are free from the buzz and excitement that define larger cities. Food culture, like the streams, mountains, and Inland Sea, is about slowing down, meeting people, and enjoying things as nature intended.