Fukubukuro

Four seasons of Fukubukuro. A mystery goodie bag of my favorite things across the Japanese countryside each season.

Some of the Items from Past Collections

Genmaicha is a blend of roasted rice and sencha (green tea). Shirao-san of Hakugendo comes from a tea farming family in Miyazaki with a 100+ year history. His genmaicha is made with fully naturally farmed rice and tea. It is delicious hot, steeping with water that’s around 95 - 100℃ after its come to a rolling boil, cold brewed with loads of ice cubes and left to steep for an hour to overnight (especially suggested for those of us who are caffeine-sensitive), or mixed with rice shochu. It’s a genmaicha that is fragrant, its aroma looming long after the first sip, and its round body leaves no twangs of harsh bitterness or tartness.

Hashi in Japanese is a homonym that means both chopstick and bridge. As a traditionally anamistic culture, chopsticks are said to be the bridge between the godly world, all flora and fauna, and the human world. So in eating, we are crossing this bridge with great gratitude. These black and white ironwood chopsticks, naturally water-resistant wood, are made in a small factory in the Old Edo region, which is now Eastern Tokyo. The weight of the chopsticks, ergonomic shape, and the thin tips are just so to make eating that much more pleasurable, with minimal interference with the food as it reaches your tongue.  

Hashi-oki, or literally, place for chopsticks, are handmade in the mountains of Tochigi with local clay and a glaze that with high heat turns into glass. Hashi-oki are a critical piece of the Japanese table. As chopsticks are a holy piece of tableware, they mustn't be placed just anywhere. Hashi-oki are also a reminder to take time while eating. Suggested etiquette is to place chopsticks down on the hashi-oki while chewing, rather than overzealously preparing for your next bite. The chewing time is an opportunity to relish the changing tastes and textures of our food as they become part of our being. 

Tawashi are kitchen scrubbers made with hemp palm. They are the partner to any Japanese kitchen sink and come in many forms and sizes, but this turtle shape is the most common. They are used to scrub root vegetables, cast iron pots, and cutting boards. These tawashi that are made by hand in Wakayama, are durable and effective, yet yields just so.

In the Japan of yesteryear, brooms were woven for the most specific of uses, like for tatami flooring, for autumn leaves, for aerating rice paddies. Not only were there high-quality brooms made by artisans, but daily-use brooms were also made in the average home. These small handy brooms are the creation of artisans in Ibraraki who use broom sorghum, a grass that is found less and less with every passing year due to the drastic decline in consumer demand. Their weaving style makes for a sturdy broom whose tips can be trimmed with use, and used to tidy up the table after kitchen work such as slicing bread, shelling beans, or peeling corn husks. I can’t imagine a home without brooms.

This rectangular basket is made by a community of artisans in Oita who have been known for the quality of their woven bamboo baskets for over 2000 years. Shallow basket-woven plates fill my kitchen in all shapes and sizes as they are the ultimate multi-purpose tool. Personally, I use this basket as a drying rack when I need to wash up just a few items, as a strainer when cleaning fruit, as a plate for freshly toasted breads or chilled noodles like udon or soba, to quickly steam veg, or to sun-dry mushrooms. 

Karinto are one of my most favorite humble sweets that have been enjoyed in Japan for about 1500 years. It is nothing more than a fried biscuit. But like a churro or youtiao, it is in its simplicity that highlights the short list of ingredients: kokuto, flour, oil, honey, sesame. By the 1600s, there were hundreds of karinto sellers across the Tokyo region. This karinto is made by a fourth generation karinto maker who uses kokuto (black sugar) from an heirloom sugarcane varietal in Okinawa. Its deep, minerally qualities pair brilliantly with genmaicha’s toasted umami. 

Gangu, traditional toys that often take on a dual role as amulet, are found all across the Japanese countryside. Sometimes they are more playful like making noise or swinging about, but the Ohnokonbo, which is “roly-poly toy” in the Kagoshima dialect, is a simple sitting doll. Ohnokonbo is the wife of Daikoku, one of the seven guardian deities. In Kagoshima, she is placed in the kitchen to protect the family. These Ohnokonbo are crafted by Sameshima-san who carefully paints the sun on her belly. He says it’s the sun that rises over Sakura Island which adds to the auspicious qualities of the quietly protective gangu. 

Taneji Nakajima was a famed origami craftsman in the early 1900s. His detailed work, including finger puppets, became a massive hit. Nakajima-san’s pieces were not just made with origami but used intricate cutting techniques, as well as paint and other art supplies. In recent years, design duo COCHAE, based in Okayama, stumbled upon Nakajima-san’s work and breathed new life into this forgotten history. The characters depicted in each origami, bring us back to the family table of yesteryear when children would spend hours hovered over their creations.

The cotton furoshiki are mud and botanical dyed by artist Kyoko Takekasa. The chemical reaction that occurs from the iron content of the mud, results in fabrics that are vibrant yet comforting. Wrapping has been a significant aspect of Japanese culture for at least 1500 years. Japan is known for its overabundant wrapping at department stores or supermarkets. While I wish this wrapping culture hadn’t replaced linens with plastic, its roots lie in the etiquette to wrap anything that you may be presenting to another. It is unjust to both what you are giving and whom you are sharing it with, if that item, whatever it may be, is left bare. While wrapping has a long history, the word furoshiki comes much later. Likely in the late 1700s. Furoshiki, which literally translates to bath mat, served a dual purpose: used as a towel under your seat, as baths were originally more like steam rooms, as well as wrapping and carrying your personal items to and from the bath house.

Asa rivals rice and soy beans as one of the most significant agricultural products of Japan. However, everything changed after WWII. When Japan lost the war to the United States, the landscape of Japan changed forever. A directive was given by the American Army to rewrite the Japanese constitution. One of those changes was to include the Hemp Control Act. The Japanese countryside used to be filled with asa. It was so much a part of everyday life that it is a traditional pattern that’s still used in clothing, tableware, and the arts. Yet no one of our generation has seen the real thing. To have it dramatically wiped away from use by the public was devastating to put it lightly. 40 thousand people lost their jobs and an entire country lost one of the most vital building blocks of living. While in Japan, asa was not used for smoking, it was used for paper, fabric, furniture, fishing nets, architectural materials, and medicine. There is a single farm that currently cultivates asa, but its harvest is reserved to make religious robes, and offerings and ornaments for shrines. The threads of this furoshiki are from Italy, and have been woven by a family in Gifu that had cultivated asa for over 10 generations. It’s an ode to what was, and what is possible.

I made rice amulets for my nearest and dearest, made from an heirloom red rice varietal. This rice is grown specifically to make shiménawa or woven cord, to welcome the new years gods. During New Years, shiménawa can be found in shrines and homefronts across the country. Now that I have made one myself, guided by a shiménawa artist, I can say with great confidence that it is no small feat to make perfectly pruned, delicate, complex shiménawa. And thus, you must excuse me with this amulet. It is my symbol of friendship. Sending you great gratitude for sharing this lifetime with me.

I ordered a Sendai Papier-Mâché Bobble-head to be made based on the recipient's birthday information. Gangu is the traditional word for toy. But gangu are much more than toys, they often double as amulets or offerings. Firstly, the paper must be made. Rocking and sifting, rocking and sifting, to make delicate, nearly translucent paper.  Like a miniature hospital operating room, a small scalpel, tweezers, and scissors are used to architect each body, and  handmade washi is laid layer by layer, just so, to enjoy the refined texture on the finished piece. The kooky and humble depiction of the animals pulls at my heartstrings. The artisan has been making them in this way since 1960. 

In a seaside town of Fukuoka, there is a young family making olives, oranges, umé, figs, loquat, apricots, strawberries, lemons, honey, and black soy beans, amongst other things. The husband was an aircraft engineer in Tokyo. He says that while he enjoyed a fulfilling life in the city, several years ago he was called to choose a homestead life. Wakamatsu-san tends to his fields by mimicking the environment of the nearest forest, to ensure a healthy circular ecosystem for his farm. These black beans have been roasted to enjoy as a tea. Simply place several into a mug and pour just-boiled water to steep. Once you drink the tea, you are free to eat the black beans as well. 

How many black beans for your cup of tea? The bamboo chazashi is a perfect measure for one cup of tea. The same goes for tea leaves. As per the Japanese way, rather than scooping an overflowing amount of tea leaves onto the chazashi, the required amount is “just enough”. If you’d like exact measurements, please contact me for detailed information. But my hope is that you’ll find your perfectly comfortable “just enough”. The chazashi is made from a single bamboo, so each has its unique qualities. That said, the bamboo has gone through the hands of an artisan in the mountains of Nara who selects, cuts, and shapes each to ensure the highest level of handfeel and ease-of-use. 

These chopsticks were crafted by an artisan assembly with a 400 year history in Fukui. The serving chopsticks or toribashi are made with white bamboo. Placing the node of the bamboo at the center is a design called nakabushi, enjoyed by Sen no Rikyu, known as the father of Japanese tea ceremony. The disciples of Sen no Rikyu often prefer their chashaku, the long tea spoons used for powdered matcha, to have a nakabushi. In the case of toribashi, the nakabushi is not just a design element but also serves as a marker for your hands. While most chopsticks are meant to be held near to top, these serving chopsticks have no top. They are tapered at both ends. This way, both you and the gods can enjoy the meal simultaneously. Its practical use is to use the same toribashi for two different dishes, without mixing flavors.

Tea towels made by 100 year old botanical dye artist Samiro Yunoki, depicting the bounty of the season. In white, turnip. And in green, threeleaf arrowheads and carrot. The technique used is called chūsen. Rather than printing onto the fabric like silkscreen, a thick paste creates an embankment where the dye is poured so that the threads thoroughly absorb the color. This produces a final product that has no defined front or back. The detail-oriented approach makes these tea towels a rare gem. Because the tea towel is a 100% cotton dimpled fabric, it is quick to dry.

“Oni wa soto! Fuku wa uchi!” This is the phrase that you’ll hear from homes everywhere at the beginning of February, as we call in the Lunar New Year. Since the 1300s we have been shouting “Devil spirits outside! Prosperous energy inside! ” while throwing roasted soy beans at the Oni, the red devil spirit. But previous to this, peach branches were used to rid homes of devil spirits. The devil spirit isn’t something that is foreign. It is a spirit that is within each of  us. So every year, we take this time to acknowledge the spirit, and replace it with prosperous energy. Now, in homes with young children, it’s usually the littles throwing soy beans at their parents or grandparents, as they wear an Oni mask. But nothing goes to waste! The soy beans are then collected to eat. Add them to a stew, curry, or batter.

Furoshiki is dyed in ai, Japanese indigo, using the shibori method. Ai is a result of deep fermentation. Sukumo is created from ai plants that are ultimately blended with a variety of other elements such as saké or rice bran to fuel the living, breathing organism. The elements that are blended with the ai, as well as the ratio, differ depending on artisan as well as region of Japan. From planting to fermentation to dying, it takes a full year to create an ai-dyed linen. Shibori means “to wring”. Like tie-dye, the shibori method involves thread to wrap, as well as stitching through the fabric and/or folding to make patterns. When fabric or thread is dyed in ai, it goes through an evolution of color. Slowly but surely the pigment is absorbed and layered, which is how Japanese indigo gets its deep, full-bodied color. During the dying process, ai-dyers are witness to a single, magical moment. For a millisecond, the thread turns a bright gold color when the ai breathes into the fabric. Ai has both antibacterial and anti-pest qualities so it is perfect to protect your body, your food, wines, or other favorite items, as the weather warms.

Once the rice steams, transfer it to a sheet tray or other vessel with a large surface area, and add vinegar, and if you prefer, a dash of sweetener to the rice. As you cut and fold the rice to carefully bring the ingredients together, use the Sensen Shibu fan to help  any excess water content to evaporate. This process produces a vinegared rice that is flavorful but still bouncy. This fan is handmade in a region of Kumamoto known for its 400 year history of fan artisanship. Splitting the bamboo, preparing the details of the frame, pasting the hand-sifted washi, and finishing with astringent persimmon extract. The persimmon extract is the critical final step that makes for a durable hand fan. And makes it very much appropriate for use as a cooking tool. Like fine leather, you can enjoy the color deepen over time. 

There are two different types of sushi I’d like for you to try. The first is maki-zushi, or rolled sushi, using the makisu, which looks a little like wooden window blinds. The, what we call, blue bamboo is a sign that the bamboo is fresh. And over time it will evolve from green to a straw color. The Tokyo area is known for makisu craftsmanship because while the city is still young, about 400 years, Tokyo is where “nouveau” sushi, or sushi as we most associate to the word now, was developed: nigiri-zushi and the maki-zushi. Maki-zushi is made by placing a large sheet of nori onto the makisu and placing the vinegared rice above with your favorite ingredients and using the makisu to nudge along the rolling process. One of my favorite ingredients, especially when making a plant-based maki-zushi is soy sauce-caramelized walnuts. Do give it a try!

The second type for sushi is oshi-zushi, or pressed sushi. In tracing the 1200 or so year history of sushi, oshi-zushi plays a significant role in Japanese food culture. Its roots are as an offering to the gods. Whether to ensure a bountiful rice crop, or to ensure safety at sea. Rice would be placed into a box and salt-cured fish would be laid on top. It has also been eaten at festivals, acting as an ornate centerpiece of the table. Traditionally, oshi-zushi is prepared the day before, and left to rest overnight to allow the flavors meld and become one. The shape of the box and the ingredients differ based on region and season. This oshi-zushi box by artisans in Gifu, a region known for woodwork, is made with hinoki, a wood that is often used for kitchen and bath tools as it is compatible with water and also has antibacterial properties. Now, oshi-zushi can be quickly made to be eaten straight away. Layering your favorite ingredients and cutting like pound cake to serve.

Finally, mamé-zara, bean plate, a nod to its small size, is a familiar face of the Japanese table. They are the perfect shape and size for a sweet nibble to pair with your tea or coffee, for pickles or a bit of something extra to add to your food at the table, and for soy sauce and wasabi when you eat sushi. These Yamuchin mamé-zara are made in Okinawa. Yamuchin is Okinawan folkware, known for their hearty structure and muted yet playful designs. Yamuchin ceramics are often made in collectives across the island. You can feel the heart and warmth of the people through their work, and relax into the grounding effects that the Okinawan clay provides.