nabe and kotatsu
surviving and loving winter in Japan
Hello reader, thanks for being here! I’m Kana and this is the Sunday edition of Tending Gardens, which you can read about here.
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my first winter in Japan
Growing up, I had only visited Japan with my family in the summer months. I had a one-dimensional image of Japanese weather: humid, hot, and sticky. It was the heat that makes the air feel dense and no matter how many times you showered to cool off, just breathing would make you sweat.
I remember visiting Japan in the spring for the first time as an adult. I was in Tokyo wearing a light jacket and holding an umbrella and thinking ‘huh, this is nice, this is really nice’.
When I decided to move to Japan in late October, I realized it would mean that I could experience different seasons—I could revel in the beauty of autumn foliage (koyo) in fall and the… of winter?
I actually had no strong impressions of Japanese winters other than of snowy mountain tops and snowboarding friends referencing ‘japow’ (Japan + powder, a colloquial word that expresses the good powdery like snow in Japan).
This post is a reflection and a farewell to my first winter in Kamikatsu.
kotatsu and nabe
‘Time to bring out the kotatsu?’ my host mom asked the family one chilly morning in late November. There were quick nods from the family in agreement. Moments later a low table and a thick blanket were brought out and assembled.
A kotatsu is a low table frame covered by a futon or heavy blanket. The futon is sandwiched between the table frame and the tabletop. Kotatsu is used almost exclusively in Japan.
I never had a kotatsu in my home. Probably because North American homes are well insulated. Living in an old and traditional home I realize how poorly Japanese homes are insulated. Japanese homes are extremely cold in winter because they are built for summer, essentially made for ventilation. Most old homes are made from a wooden frame and nothing more.
I learned to do everything out of the kotatsu this winter. I burrowed in the fluffy futon and made the kotatsu my place of dwelling. I would nap, read, eat and do everything with my legs and lower body blanketed cozied under the table. I basically relocated and spent the entirety of winter in the kotatsu.
Nabe was the go-to meal of gatherings and slow nights. Nabe means pot and it’s a dish consisting of a broth, meats, and vegetables. It’s meant to be a shared dish where people gather together at the table to enjoy the dish. The dish was truly a warming meal on cold days. The village felt quieter in the winter, so the contrast of warmth and laughter over nabe was such a joy. I learned a tasty recipe for a soy milk and dashi broth nabe, which was both light and creamy.
Although eating nabe wasn’t new for me, I hadn’t experienced eating it so frequently. It became a grounding comfort in food and just as the kotatsu has been my ‘home’, nabe was another piece of home.
winter vegetables
Learning about winter vegetables in Japan was eye-opening. I learned that the winter cold brings out the sweetness in a lot of vegetables. While I did know that winter is a time for root vegetables, I was surprised to learn about leaves and greens that peaked with cooler weather.
The winter vegetables I had a lot was negi, or spring onions, hakusai, a versatile cabbage, and daikon, a type of round-ish radish. I learned that these vegetables work well in nabe because they can absorb flavour really well. Vegetables I was less familiar with was probably gobo or burdock root, a think root-like vegetable that doesn’t have too much flavour on its own but works well in fried rice giving an earthy taste.
Although winter vegetables can be rather plain-looking, I learned to love the diversity in the simple flavours, particularly when cooked.
I tried mizuna, a leaf vegetable, for the first time. It has a tangy and peppery flavour that works so beautifully in salads. I made a point to eat salads despite the Japanese’s hesitancy to eat raw vegetables. The leafy vegetables were too delicious and didn’t need any cooking!
Pictured above is Abe-san, an organic farmer in Kamikatsu, tending to his negi. I mean look at the vibrancy of the leaves steams! As we were about to leave his farm one day, he gifted us with a newspaper bouquet of negi.
Abe-san told us to cut the negi into thick slices and cook it in a tiny bit of olive oil and sprinkle a tad of salt. He also told us to rinse the roots and cook them too—it was a first and incredibly delicious!
I should also mention that mikan is a winter fruit (usually in stores between December - February). I not only had the chance to eat a copious amount of mikan but also spent time on farms to pick mikan.
I survived and loved winter
People around the world assume that Canada is frigidly cold during winters but it really depends on where you are. Winter in Japan is also varied and depends massively on location. Shikoku Island does not get ‘japow’ but the skies did grace us with a handful of snowy days. I’m so lucky to have seen and felt the silence of a true winter day in Kamikatsu.
I survived the extremely cold house thanks to my good friend the kotatsu. I experience the joys of discovering new vegetables thanks to my host mom and the locals of Kamikatsu.
While I would love a couple more true winter days, I’m excited about a new season. Seasons changing is a beautiful reminder of impermanence and a reminder that change can bring so many new discovers.
There are already signs of a new season!
Thank you for being here with me this week! Have a wonderful day wherever you are in the world.
Take care,
Kana
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This post made me so hungry and nostalgic for foods I have never eaten yet! <3