Talking about vegetables like we talk about fine wine
March 31 Swallows arrive for the first time.
April 15: The lark called out for the first time.
Osamu Umemoto, a 57-year-old farmer in Yasaka-cho, Kyotango, writes down seasonal changes in a thick notebook: the day when flowers bloomed on the trees in the mountains, the day when sea birds could be heard from the Sea of Japan, the day when migratory birds arrived. We have an inherent instinct to live in nature, and this is part of the key to understanding the silent “voice” of vegetables.
｜The answer is in nature
Capturing the changing seasons in his notebok.
Vegetables are originally wild mountain plants. Even the Japanese kanji used to form the word is made up of "vegetable" and "wild". If the leaves of trees start to curl up, this is an indication that they are closing their pores and trying to collect/preserve water and nutrients. Vegetable leaves are no different. Parched vegetables growing on farms also suck up the nutrients in the soil when they are watered. Even in greenhouse cultivation, plants are watered on rainy days because the plants can sense the dampness in the air and stretch their roots in preparation of absorbing water and nutrients.
Soil temperature is important for sowing and planting seedlings. Plant early when winter is harsh, and late when warm winter. The climate is different every year, so if you follow the calendar, mistakes will be made. That's why Umemoto-san looks to nature for the answers. In spring, when the magnolia flowers bloom, the rice fields are raised, and when the wisteria blooms, summer vegetables are planted. You can see wild cherry blossoms in autumn; their leaves turn red the earliest, indicating it’s time to begin preparation for winter.
By looking at the trees in the mountains, you can feel the dryness of the climate. And you can know the temperature of the soil by the transition of blooming flowers.
Nature teaches us how to grow vegetables.
It has been 15 years since Umemoto-san started farming in harmony with nature.
A childhood experience is at the heart of why he shed his former life as a Japanese salaryman. His grandfather lived in Shimoseya, a village in Miyazu City, on the other side of the mountain where he lives now. He grew up in Yokohama due to his father being transferred for work, but he spent summers at Shimoseya, during which he went into the mountains and gardens with his grandfather. His grandfather used to say that if it snowed three times on Mt. Shiogiriyama in the distance, it would snow in Shimoseya. And during that time, he had a habit of saying, "I have to finish pickling radish."
Umemoto-san majored in soil science at Kobe University because he lost in rock-paper-scissors. It was during an era when biotechnology was advancing rapidly. Although he learned about the workings of microorganisms in the forest and found it interesting, he didn’t think it would be all that useful. He ended up getting a job at an instant food company and was in charge of sales and promotion. But when he had a child, he started looking for a different place to work. He was introduced to a state-owned farmland in the town of Yasaka, in Kyotango City. The area was faced with a shortage of people willing to inherit the land for farming, forest development, and modern agriculture. So they began to accept people who wanted to migrate to the area.
｜It starts with soil science
Kyotango City is the largest production area of produce in Kyoto Prefecture with 700 tons of vegetable fields. But farmers tend to grow produce for sale and for their families separately. So did Umemoto-san. When his children became elementary school students he started shipping vegetables to schools to be used for school lunches. At home, he was giving his family pesticide-free vegetables, but for the school lunches he was still focused on shipping vegetables that looked perfect. When he realized this he stopped. He stopped using pesticides altogether and tried to grow crops by creating his own fertilizer, but he made mistakes and got sick because of it. He took a seminar on organic farming and ran into a professor from his alma mater who told him he needed to put into practice the research he had done in college.
| Forest-soil, brought to the fields
vegetables budding through leaf litter carried in from the woods
The farmland used to be a forest, so Umemoto-san set about making “forest-fields.” He started making "forest soil" on the farm. To do this he got in his kei-truck with his wife, Akiko, and drove to a riverbed. They cut a lot of vegetation and gathered leaves there, and then piled it all up in a corner of the farm. Dead leaves also collect on the forest floor. It takes nearly 100 years to produce 1 cm of humus in the forest. Cultivated land needs 20 cm of humus, which would take 2,000 years if done naturally. But Umemoto-san’s goal is to do it in twenty.
| Fallen leaves are a gold mine
The farm has become a gathering place for grass and fallen leaves. In addition to the local work, more than 100 grassy areas cut in distant riverbeds are carried by dump trucks throughout the year. Grass cut by Public Works is administratively treated as "waste," but for Umemoto-san, it is a treasure trove. He goes to the forest, collects fallen leaves, mows the grass, and hauls it back. Then, the soil and detritus that have been maturing for several years is spread over the fields. Most fieldwork is actually soil preparation.
All animals and plants live and die in the forest. Microorganisms break down carcasses, which become nutrients for living things to grow. The nutrients are present in rain and snow as they form rivers, and during heavy rains they accumulate on the riverbed as mud. Riverside vegetation is full of the forest’s life.
| The billions of lives growing our vegetables
matured soil, with 1 billion organisms in a single gram.
“This is a gold mine," Umemoto-san says. It's rich and warm and filled with the scents of the forest. He scoops some up with both hands and adds, “This is the source of life.”
At the headwaters of the Takeno River, which flows near the farm, you’ll find the Uchiyama Beech Forest. Over the years, a variety of organisms become a part of the soil, which dissolves in water and flows down the mountain into the valleys. Life is restored by returning the river vegetation and fallen leaves of the forest to the vegetable fields. When this sustenance is laid out on the fields, worms and beetle larvae munch on it and add their nutrient rich bio-waste to the equation. Countless microorganisms also settle there, eating the dead grass and leaves, decomposing them into humus.
food is the doorway to nature. (picture by Umemoto-san)
Heaps of vegetation become about one-tenth their former size, but there are still about 1 billion microorganisms in just a liter of soil. This microscopic army fertilizes the fields, and the vegetables absorb all of the nutrients and grow healthy. Then we eat them so we can live as well.
| Insects: our cohabitants
larva of the small cabbage white butterfly. Likely snacking on the outer leaves.
Nearly no fertilizer is added. This is to stimulate natural metabolism. Vegetables take in water and necessary nutrients from the roots. If you don't provide fertilizer, the plants will try to survive by rooting more. This draws out the inherent power of the plant, resulting in strong vegetables that can withstand disease. And so no pesticides are used. Umemoto-san doesn't care at all if the cabbage has butterfly larva because butterflies also have a role in the ecosystem.
“Shindo fuji” is a Buddhist teaching emphasizing that the body and soil are one. Both humans and insects are raised on the plants growing from the soil. Even as the world changes, this is a truth that remains constant.
｜Questioning “common knowledge”
carrot shoots are great in Korean pancakes and Genovese sauce
People who study agriculture gather on the farm. Every day they question established cultivation methods from the ground up. Junior high and high school students also visit from afar. Kengo Inoue, who has been working at Umemoto Farm for four years, was a system engineer in Osaka. He worked long hours, and when he got tired he would go visit his wife and Umemoto-san's farm. He learned surprising things, like he could eat the thin carrot tops. It has a profile similar to parsley. "It was so fresh and I was impressed that there was nothing being wasted of the vegetable," he said. He was fascinated by a life working in the sun and nature and decided to move. “Here, we make miso and salty soy sauce ourselves,” Inoue says. "I have the knowledge to make anything by hand. And I want to learn more."
It’s evening. After finishing the field work, everyone shares their "awareness" of the day.
"That spider was nesting in the same place in the tomato field."
"I found a frog that has a tail."
Umemoto-san asks his trainees to tell him more.
| As technology evolves, we risk losing our instincts
We think we see, but we can’t. We try to see but we fail to notice.
During the era’s when people used to pray to the heavens for good harvests, the people of Japan used nature to tell them when you grow crops. Everything from the blooming of flowers to the birth of insects was important. It’s been over 100 years since that was common practice. As technology evolves, life becomes more convenient. We are losing our animal instincts and traditional wisdom is dying out.
If we lose power, how will we live without money to buy food? And to that point, global warming has led to more natural disasters across the archipelago. And now we have the turmoil caused by the COVID-19 virus, and imbalance in the supply and demand of electricity, and cold fronts that threaten power outages. These “what if” scenarios are becoming more and more real.
｜A cafe & restaurant serving seasonality
In 2020, Mr. Umemoto opened an organic cafe "Tentomushi Batake" next to the farm. The chef is a skilled artisan of organic cooking, and continues to study his craft. The vegetables also play an central role, practically calling out to the farmers, “eat me now! when they reach peak freshness. Everyone on the farm shares the same sentiment, “I want people to feel energized by vegetables!”
Check out Organic Cafe Tentomushibatake.
Now let’s discuss soil, as we would wine.
How best to convey this sentiment? Umemoto-san looks at the soil he has raised.
A well-known wine region of France is Burgundy, France, and they put vineyard ratings on the label. It is a reflections of the soil composition, direction of the sloping land, the irrigation, and the history of production. Wines produced in the ‘special’ and ‘top grade’ fields are of the highest rarity and value. The individuality of a region is called terroir (from the French). For wine sommeliers, it is an important factor when talking about wine.
In the same way, it may be worth talking about the soil that Umemoto-san and his colleagues have cultivated. His forest-infused humus soil, which has been aged for many years in his fields, is full of life. He speaks about the healthy vegetables growing there like one would a fine wine. Why don’t we start spreading the message of vegetable terroir.
Come and harvest vegetables. Learn what the soil has to offer.
Once COVID has settled down, Umemoto-san is thinking about starting a harvesting experience. On their website, they already have a way to order remotely. But Umemoto-san wants people to come to the farm at least once. He says, “You need to touch this soil. Then you will understand the full extent as to why the vegetables you are eating here are so healthy, and healthy for you."
It’s about growing what you eat, and forming a bond with the forests and fields.
Umemoto’s Farm also offers vegetable sets. You can make a reservation for customizable sets on their website (only in Japanese for now).
For inquiries, please contact Organic Cafe Tentomushi Batake (0772-60-8673). 441 Kurobe, Yasaka-cho, Kyotango-shi, Kyoto Prefecture. For inquiries in English, contact Kyoto by the Sea DMO using our online form. Or you can ring us as 0772-68-5055.
