From the Inlets, a new look at Kyoto’s Sea
living with the sea 8.12.2020
Does the sea call to me?
When commuting by crowded train
I suddenly miss the small town I visited in Kyoto on the Sea.
Lingering on my taste buds are the various fish I tried as well as the clear, delicate sake. Entangled in this is the remnant flavor of a calm summer breeze and salt spray.
Unlike the city, there are few trains, and the area lacked large commercial areas.
Some might think its too rural, but visiting reminded me of life as it was.
Eating seasonally and connecting this to the beautiful landscape gives harmony to life. But really, it’s the people living so connected to the sea that made me realize how vital this area is.
Where else could I be embraced by the moon and stars in a mirror-like cove, melting
into nature as the tide allowed me to forget myself.
The people here taught me to slow down.
And I want to share this message with everyone who has an appreciation for nature and the sea.
How they live in Kyoto by the Sea is how we all want to live.
Our days should be filled with meaning like this. It’s definitely a place I want to come back to.
And I want to take others with me, people with whom I can share what Kyoto by the Sea means to me.
Allow me to share how the people here live with the sea.
Elusive black chikuwa, freshly made
3:00 am. The light goes on in "Chikuwa-dori," a shop that makes the iconic round fish cakes in the fisherman town of Miyazu.
A fragrant scent fills the inside of the shop where the pleasant sounds of freshly baked chikuwa falling from the machine resonate.
"Would you like to try it?" asks Taichi Hirose, fourth generation of “Kanehiro,” a Miyazu chikuwa specialty shop. I was fascinated by the fluffy texture and sweet, fragrant taste. I had only seen the chilled version at the supermarket, so this was like a completely different food.
But there is something on my mind. “Why do you make these in the middle of the night?” I ask.
Taichi's father, Katsuichi, replies. “When the temperature rises in the summer, the paste won’t stick to the sticks, so I bake it during the coolest time of day, which is at night. This is how it’s always been done. There was no air conditioning in the past.”
As the stick rolls around, the paste wraps around it. It’s mesmerizing.
He continues to explain, “Plus during the day, there are phone calls from people placing orders, and customers, which makes it difficult to focus on making the chikuwa. It takes half the time to bake the same number at night.”
Every store on “Chikuwa Street” is family-run. It is the reason why the chikuwa industry has continued to be successful for generations, as business owners have kept costs down by keeping the shops in the family.
Interestingly, the back of the shop was actually in the sea until the 1940’s when some of Miyazu Bay was filled in with more land. There is a fish loading area nearby, and there are still eight kneading shops in and around the surrounding streets, including tempura and kamaboko (fish cakes).
Katsuichi reminisces a bit from when he was younger. "I used to carry loads of sardines on a wheelbarrow and bring them to the store. ‥ A long time ago, Miyazu Bay was packed with so many sardines that the sea darkened. But since there were no cars at the time, even if a big haul was caught, they couldn’t be shipped very far. So this industry developed in order to process, keep, and sell the sardines we caught.”
Chikuwa that’s made by mixing in minced sardines makes the fish cake darker. So Miyazu's chikuwa has come to be called "black chikuwa." Kanehiro still uses seasonal fish caught in the sea.
“Sardines, flying fish, whiting, conger eel, shad, and more are all used. Because seasonal fish is fatty, adding it to a nabe pot or miso soup increases the flavor,” Taichi explains. “I knead salt, sugar and potato starch into the minced sardines and wrap it in a spiral. Then I put it on a machine and bake it while rolling it across an open flame. It’s a long-practiced skill to know when the surface is just right, to pull the chikuwa off just before it burns.”
It is 4:30 am when baking finishes. When the squeaking noise of the rotating machine stops, it means it’s time to bag them. After cleaning up and preparing for the next day, they finally take a break. Katsuichi tells me, “By making chikuwa at the same time in the same way, the taste stays the same. That’s how we preserve Miyazu's food culture.”
If you want to eat freshly made chikuwa, make a reservation at Kanehiro (0772・22・2987) by 4pm the day before. However, they are only open early in the morning. You can also buy their chikuwa nearby at Miyazu City Food Wholesale Center (morning market) around 6 am. Regular holidays are Sundays and public holidays. Access is best by bicycle. I wholeheartedly recommend eating freshly made chikuwa while watching the sunrise on the shore of Amanohashidate.
I bought some to take home with me. They told me that I can put it in aluminum foil and warm it in a toaster oven, which gets it closer to the freshly-baked flavor. Even the supermarkets in Miyazu have locally made products like chikuwa.
The story of Miyazu chikuwa and Sanuki udon
Chikuwa and udon are a pair. And there are udon artisans who are always searching for the best chikuwa to use in their dishes.
Suginoya is a restaurant located in front of Moto Ise Kono Shrine in Ogaki, Miyazu, right across from Amanohashidate. Masato Yamazaki, a local chef who trained for eight years in the mecca of udon, Kagawa Prefecture, was trying to perfect a chikuwa tempura to compliment his udon. But the udon restaurants in Kagawa are basically self-service when it comes to toppings so the chikuwa tempura always gets soft sitting in the service area waiting to be taken.
Mr. Yamazaki tells me, “I really want customers to eat freshly fried food. I searched for the perfect chikuwa and it was actually here, in my home town! I so happy to finally find a topping that could match the flavor and depth of the sanuki udon.”
The chikuwa are cut into two pieces, coated and submerged in 175-degree oil. When it’s deep-fried until it becomes a golden brown color, the water content drops, which concentrates the flavor and brings out the fragrance even more.
“I can’t tell you how many chikuwa I ate before arriving at the current chikuwa tempura, balancing the crispiness of the outside and chewy interior. It was a lot of trial and error,” Yamazaki explains.
I had to try it for myself, so I ordered a bowl. I let the chikuwa soak it in the seafood stock (dashi), which combined the flavors of the minced sardines and dashi together, creating a whole new experience. The chikuwa is called black chikuwa because of it's dark color, which is thanks to the use of local blue-backed fish like sardines.
“Make it black chikuwa udon.”
Mr. Yamazaki explains that this phrase popped into his mind, and he decided to use it for his signboard that displays the restaurant’s menu.
The popularity of Mr. Yamazaki’s restaurant, Suginoya has spread like lightning, all by word of mouth from diners who have tried his amazing dishes. Mr. Yamazaki, a perfectionist in the kitchen, recently came up with a way to maintain the quality of his chikuwa tempura no matter who makes it. What he does is take the two halves of his cut chikuwa and puts them together when he throws them into the oil. And because they are connected by the tempura batter, they naturally float up to the surface of the oil. Then they split apart with the cut ends facing up. In this way, the batter is perfectly crispy every time.
While I eat, Mr. Yamazaki tells me his story.
“I was obsessed with Sanuki Udon 20 years ago. While working as an office worker in Shiga prefecture, I went to Kagawa by motorcycle and finally freed myself from my job. I started training at Sanuki Udon Shop. For three and a half years I also worked as a store manager and visited a total of 1,000 restaurants for research.
In 2012, I renovated my parents' coffee shop and opened my own udon shop. The “chikuwa tempura set” is royalty in the udon world. After trying over 170 types of chikuwa in Kagawa, I was astounded when, after coming home, I tried Kanehiro's chikuwa. Really, I was dumbfounded. It’s hands-down the best chikuwa out there and it took me leaving Miyazu and coming back to find it. This incredible secret weapon, which I couldn’t even find in the battlegrounds of Sanuki’s udon world, was sold in my hometown’s supermarket.”
I was also fortunate enough to notice the excellence of Miyazu chikuwa because one of Japan’s leading udon shops scoured Kagawa for “the best chikuwa tempura” and found it in his hometown in Kyoto by the Sea. Udon artisans across Japan also affirm that Suginoya's black chiku udon is a specialty of the highest order in Japan.
I think the development of specialty products is important, but Mr. Yamazaki taught me that it’s even more important to find what’s special to you, in your own life. After eating Suginoya’s black chikuwa udon, I could understand how fulfilling having meaning in your life is, no matter what it is. There is passion and purpose in Mr. Yamazaki dishes, and you can taste it. He is embracing his life wholeheartedly, and today as well, he’s frying chikuwa.