The Shrub with the Clusters of Lustrous Purple Berries and the Grand, Literary Name- MURASAKI SHIKIKBU (ムラサキシキブ)
By AVI LANDAU
A Murasaki Shikibu Bush (actually a variety called KOMURASAKI) at the Fumon-Ji Temple in Tsukuba ( November 2010)
Being popular ornamental shrubs, they can be commonly found throughout Japan in the gardens of private homes,in parks, or within the precincts of Buddhist temples. You can also find them growing wild in the woods, both on the plains and on the mountainsides. Still EACH TIME I catch a glimpse of them here in Tsukuba ( or farther afield) in late autumn or early winter, I am overcome by a slight wave of recognition and joy: like that felt when running into an old friend.
This is not because of the shiny purple fruit these bushes bear, which remind me of miniaturized versions of the GUMBALLS I used to enjoy so much as a kid. It is because these plants with the distinctive berries are NAMED AFTER A PERSON- a novelist, in fact. And not just any scribbler- but a giant of world literature- whose name ( though her real name in fact is unknown!)) evokes a world of sublime elegance and beauty, and whose writings expressed a profound and terrible sense of longing . It is a name especially dear to anyone interested in Japanese culture- it is that by which the composer of the GENJI MONOGATARI ( Tales of Genji) is known.
So each time I spot one of these easilly recognizeble shrubs ( when they are bearing their fruit) I cant help but call out a happy greeting to what feels like an old friend- MURASAKI SHIKIBU ( Lady Murasaki) !
I mean, how many plants do you know that are named after one of your favorite writers?!
A closer look at the KOMURASAKI`s berries (at the Fumon-Ji Temple 2010)
Just how long these berry-bearing bushes have been called murasaki shikibu is not known for sure. Apparently, they were once known as murasaki shikimi, which means clusters of purple ( murasaki means purple), but for some reason, probably because of the similarity in sound ( murasaki shikimi- Murasaki Shikibu),they came to be called by their present name.
Murasaki Shikibu Flowers in summer
You might think that this story of the murasaki shikibu plants is going to make for a SIMPLE Tsukublog article, for a change. Well, think again. Just like so much of everything else in Japan, things can get confusing.
The problem is that the plant which can be found so commonly throughout Japan and which everyone, including me, calls muraski shikibu ( in English: Japanese beautyberry, scientific name :Callicarpa japonica) is in fact ANOTHER plant- which should correctly be called KOMURASAKI (コムラサキ), in Japanese and Purple beautyberry or Early amethyst in English ( scientific name: Callicarpa dichotoma)!
The fruit of a true murasaki shikibu plant (Callicarpa japonica), in Tsukuba
How can you tell the difference? Its easy. Even for the complete layman (like me). The murasaki shikibu`s berries hang out on the ends of long stems in open clusters numbering only a handful of fruit. The komurasaki`s berries form dense clusters which appear to weigh down the branches. There are several other physiological differences in leaf shape, flower, bark, etc., as well.
So now you can tell the difference, But, for some reason, it doesnt really seem to matter. Here is what I mean:
Callicarpa japonica (murasaki shikibu) in Tsukuba
Callicarpa dichotoma ( komurasaki) seems to be much more abundant than callicarpa japonica, in gardens, parks and temples. Still, BOTH plants ( though completely different species!), are referred to as MURASAKI SHIKIBU. What can I say? It must be the irresistable attraction of the name.
So keep an eye out for these bushes- either of them! Hopefully you will spot some before the birds have finshed off their fruit ( though birds seem to love them they are not edible for humans).
When you do, stop for a while and let them carry you away in your imagination to the world of MIYABI. ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miyabi)
And dont forget to say hello to my old friend- Lady Murasaki!
Komurasaki growing in Konda, Tsukuba
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Jichinsai (地鎮祭) – a closer look at Japan`s traditional GROUNDBREAKING CEREMONY held before construction of any sort
A square marked off by bamboo and rope indicates that construction will soon begin at this site (Matsushiro, Tsukuba)
By Avi Landau
The construction business is booming. Well, at least that`s what it looks like here in Tsukuba City, despite near-depression-like conditions in other parts of the country. With the inauguration of the TX (Tsukuba Express) Line, which has made a daily commute to Tokyo easily do-able, builders and their equipment can be seen at work nearly everywhere, putting our unique city on the fast track to becoming just another generic bed-town. For those of us who like to savor this area's nature and traditions, this is a grim state of affairs and I can offer no consolation...
It is interesting, however, that in Japan, busy carpenters and construction workers means busy Kannushi, or Shinto priests. This is because their services are required for performing the Land Purification Ceremony (Jichinsai 地鎮祭) which is carried out as a matter of course before any type of building or construction project begins. And, because most want such a ceremony to be carried out on an appropriately auspicious day according to the Japanese calendar (and there are only a few such days ,about 8 each month), in boon times like these it is getting to the point where Kannushi have to be brought in from out town, with local priests being fully booked up on these lucky days for weeks in advance.
It would be hard to miss a Jichinsai if you happened to chance upon one, with the colorfully garbed priest being an eye-catching sight in any neighborhood. Even if you never did have such good luck, you are still very likely to see the remnants of these ceremonies, which are also SURE signs that construction will very soon begin on that particular spot. What I am referring to is the small, square, 3-dimensional sacred space demarcated by four bamboo poles (IMI-TAKEH, 忌竹) set upright in the center of a proposed building site connected at the tops by lengths of rope which are adorned with strips of paper. This was the space to which the kami (god/gods) was/were called down to for the Jichinsai ceremony, in order to ask permission to manipulate the land.
Seeing such open-air sanctuaries is a glimpse at Japanese religion in its earliest and purest form, as it was before the introduction of Buddhism and its grand temples, which inspired the natives to house their Kami in equally impressive wooden houses which are now called jinja , or shrines.
Recently, many friends have been building or rebuilding houses and I've had several chances to observe the details of the Jichinsai Ceremony. Of course, each particular ceremony is slightly different and customs vary according to the type of shrine the priest is associated with. There are also regional variations. Still, the ceremonies have become surprisingly standardized, especially when it comes to those held for the construction of private homes.
A family gathers as the kannushi performs a jichinsai ceremony
I have decided to focus on one particular ceremony, that of my friends Tatsuya and Mariko Nomura, to give readers some idea of how they are planned and carried out.
The Nomuras are born and bred Tsukubans, who have lived most of their lives near the deep shadows created by Ichinoya Shrine's giant zelkova trees (the largest in Ibaraki). Mariko is a serious afficcionado of the Japanese Tea Ceremony and has been wanting an authentic tea room for some time. Since their house was getting on in years, they finally decided to have it knocked down and have a new one built. This would not have just one, but two tea rooms.
After selecting an appropriate builder and deciding on a design, the company brought up the question of the Jichinsai. They said that they could make the arrangements, unless Tatsuya and Mariko wanted to do it themselves. Since The Nomuras lived near the Ichinoya Shrine and have had a long family connection to it, Tatsuya said that they would take care of it themselves.
As it is with most Japanese, it is only natural to have such a ceremony performed and Mariko told me that she would have felt uncomfortable if they did not have one done. In fact, from what I have learned from many discussions, if clients refuse to have the ceremony, the builders insist upon it, as the carpenters and other workers would feel uneasy without having it.
It was then necessary to coordinate a date with the construction company. This is because the ceremony should be attended by at least three representatives of those involved in the construction. Usually this means the salesman, the architect, and one of the carpenters. The company suggested a date, a Saturday in July, which would fall between the scheduled demolition of the old house and the beginning of construction. Importantly, the proposed date was a Tomobiki（友引） day, the second luckiest of lucky days on the Japanese calendar after Tai-An (大安).
Tatsuya quickly set about reserving the priest for that day, and hurried over to the shrine office. The priest said that he was completely booked up for that day, but would somehow fit the Nomuras in, early in the morning. When Tatsuya asked about the fee, he was told that he could make a donation in any amount he pleased (later he would ask around the neighborhood and find that 20-30,000 yen was the norm). Tatsuya was then given a printed list of things to prepare, and these represent the standard objects used in the Jichinsai as practiced throughout the archipelago and wherever Japanese have settled abroad.
An interestic collection of offering at a jichinsai in Tokushima Prefecture ( from the Yamada Komuten homepage)
First, for marking off the sacred space, Tatsuya would need to get four bamboo poles, 3-4 meters in length, which are available at most home improvement centers (the Kannushi would provide the rope and paper strips). Next they would need offerings to the Kami which should consist of Yama-No-Mono (mountain products), for which Tatsuya prepared grapes, nashi-pears, pumpkin, corn, eggplant and green pepper, as well as Umi-No-Mono (sea products) for which he prepared dried squid and dried kelp (sea bream was recommended, but would spoil quickly in the summer heat). Also as offerings, they had to prepare a bowl of rice. For ritual ground-breaking, a bucket-load of sand or soil would be needed. And then, for purification of the land and its four corners, they would need salt. After re-checking the list to make sure that they had everything required of them, they waited for the designated day to arrive.
On the morning of July 28th, the Kannushi arrived with a car-full of gear, already dressed in his full regalia. He immediately set about putting up the sacred space, and the altar (kami-dana) within it upon which were placed the sea and mountain offerings. This took about 20 minutes. The representatives of the construction company arrived and the Kannushi greeted everyone:
"Now, Nomura Tatsuya and Mariko's Jichinsai shall begin!"
The priest then called the kami down to the sacred space with a chilling cry of OOOooooh, reminiscent of the chanting in a Noh drama. Then began the ritual purification (oharai) which is such an important feature of Japanese religion. With his wand, the Kannushi first purified the Kami altar, then the four-corners of the lot, and finally, the Nomuras themselves.
The priest then beckoned to the Nomuras to follow him as he walked to each of the four corners, for purification with water and tiny paper squares. Tatsuya and Mariko also sprinkled water, under the direction of the priest. Then came the offering of the sacred sakaki branches to the Kami. One by one, all those present were handed a sprig which was placed on the altar. Just after doing so each person bowed twice, clapped twice, and then bowed once, which is the typical way to grab the attention and pay respects to Japanese Kami. For this part of the ceremony, Tatsuya's 90 year old father, came out of the shade and into the early morning summer heat to make his offerings.
Next was the ritual ground-breaking. In a pile of soil just outside the sacred space, the Kannushi placed an amulet. Tatsuya and Mariko then, together, took hold of a ritual hoe, and pretended to strike the soil 3 times crying Ay-Ay-Ay. This was repeated by the architect and carpenter.
And finally, just as in a Japanese style wedding, sake was offered to the couple and was drunk out of traditional dishes. The same was then offered to all those present.
It was then time to send off the Kami with an extended and goose-bump raising OOOOoooooohhh! The Kami was then gone. The amulet was taken by the architect who said it would be placed in the foundation of the house.
The Kannushi announced that the ceremony was completed and began packing up. Tatsuya told him to please take all the food offerings, which he promptly did after receiving the envelope containing his fee. The bamboo and rope which mark off the sacred space would remain until the onset of construction.
Such ceremonies are carried out for any type of building activity: building or rebuilding a home, erecting a grave, clearing wild land for agriculture, well-digging etc. Since in Japan everything belongs to the Kami, it is necessary to acknowledge them and pay respects before using the land for our purposes. Purification is necessary to clear away any bad luck, impurities, or evil which might be connected to that land. The Kannushi also prays for safety, happiness, and protection from disaster.
The ritual digging implements used in the JICHINSAI ceremony
These ceremonies are currently part of the debate over the separation of church and state in Japan, as all official construction projects are usually preceded by extravagant Jichinsai which are paid for by tax yen. As I have stated earlier however, workers would find it uncomfortable to go ahead on a project without having the ceremony.
With all the destruction going on around us of nature and rustic old buildings, it is a little comforting (just a tiny bit) to find the color and magic of the Jichinsai.
Since Tatsuya and Mariko do not want their photos to appear in cyberspace, I am not posting any pics of their JICHINSAI. Until I did some other up from my own collection or get some new shots you can look at what theyve got on google. Just search under:
地鎮祭 in Japanese.
I stumbled across this interesting post-jichinsai scene in Saiki Tsukuba on Christmas Day 2010. This parking lot will obviously be ripped up soon to make way for some sort of building. The bamboo poles were being held in palce by steel rods driven into the pavememt
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Autumn is SANMA-TIME, as Japan`s Favorite Fish of the Common-Man, Sanma (秋刀魚)- is at its JUICY best
A typical Japanese lunch- Yakizakana teishoku (a grilled fish set meal), featuring rice, miso soup, tofu, pickles and a grilled SANMA with a little grated radish on the side
Thanks in part to the widespread recognition of its healthful, aesthetic, and palate-pleasing qualities, Japanese cuisine has in recent years become a truly GLOBAL PHENMENON. And though now the world over, through encounters at restaurants or through one or more of the many books or articles being printed about Japanese food, the general public has become familiar with the likes of sushi,tempura, sukiyaki, or shabushabu, very few non-Japanese, even those who consider themselves great fans of Japanese fare, have ever heard of , let alone tasted, what is probably the most typical Japanese food, especially of autumn- SANMA, a silver, knife-shaped fish which is usually eaten grilled whole, and served with grated radish, soy sauce and lime (kabosu).
In fact, while researching this article, I went through all the English language books on Japanese cooking and culinary culture I could find at Tsukuba`s libraries and bookstores, and was amazed to find no references at all to grilled sanma. I attributed this to the fact that this fish, called saury, or pike mackerel in English, is not readilly available at most supermarkets or fish store outside of East-Asia. That might explain why this most common Japanese fish dish would be omitted from cook books designed to be sold in Wesetrn countries. If the readers couldnt buy sanma, I guess including the recipe for it would just be a waste of space.
This does not explain, however, why there would be no mention of sanma in a very detailed book (put out by Lonely Planet) on how to order Japanese food while visiting Japan! The only thing I could think of that could explain this oversight would be that editors considered grilled sanma HOME COOKING.
If this was their reasoning for failing to include sanma in their book, they surely have made a major error. Because not only is grilled sanma a staple of TEISHIKU (set lunch) joints which cater to university students, but it is also a typical fish to be ordered grilled at IZAKAYA- Japanese style pubs which also serve up traditional dishes.
So here, for the english speaking ( or should I say READING) world, I would like to put grilled SANMA in its proper place as one of Japan`s great foods, -healthy, delicious, and beautifully served. A representative taste of autumn, which by the way, makes for one of Japan`s most reasonably priced meals.
Sanma depicted on an advertising banner at a supermarket in Tsukuba
In Japan there is an old saying SANMA GA DERU TO ANMA GA HIKKOMU (秋刀魚がでると あんまが引っ込む), the equivalent of the American expression-An apple a day keeps the doctor away ( though literally it means- when sanma comes out, the masseuse stays in!), which is a testiment to the nutritional value which the Japaneses have long attributed to this fish. It came as no surprise then today,that when I mentioned sanma to my friend Yoshida-Sensei ( a man in his 80`s), the first thing he said was- Ah! Its good for the eyes!
But even more than being highly valued for it health giving properties, sanma is enjoyed for its taste, which as I have already mentioned above is one of the representative tastes of autumn. The word SANMA is in fact a haiku KIGO (seasonal keyword) for autumn ( the characters now used to write the name of this fish- 秋刀魚- literally mean autumn knife (shaped) fish).
Why autumn? Well, it is in that season, when large schools of these fish have arrived off the coast of Northeastern Japan after having swum down from the cold waters of far northern seas, that they have been traditionally caught, using light to easilly attract them to fishing boats at night ( in former ages it was the bright autumn moon which attracted the fish to the surface). At this time the fish still have plenty of oily ( and tasty and nutritious) body fat. It is this fatty layer which makes them so tasty, and also makes it necessary to grill them them, as opposed to being eaten raw as sashimi.
Sanma fresh off the grill at my house in Tsukuba- makes my mouth water looking at it!
Interestingly, in the days before fresh fish could be quickly transported to anywhere in Japan, it was said that in Kanto sanma was delicious, while in Kansai ( western Japan- including osaka, etc.) sanma was not. The reason for this was that while the fish caught of the coast of what is now Chiba Prefecture or Ibaraki still had plenty of fat on them, by the time they made it near the shore of Wakayama, etc. in western Japan, they had swum all that succulent oil right off.
In fact in those parts of Japan where these lean sanma were caught, it was common ( and still is) to eat them raw as sashimi. ( I have read that in western Japan sanma has been called SAIRA, which is the same named used for this fish in Russian!)
An important consequence of being so fatty, is that when sanma are grilled they create a lot of smoke. Traditionally housewives would grill sanma outside in the yard on round grills called SHICHIRIN. These days, most sanma are grilled indoors in the broiler which can be found in just about any Japanese kitchen. Even ventillators turned up to full blast cannot stop the whole house from getting filled up with smoke.
Frequent grilling of smokey sanma is probably the reason that the very fire safety conscious Japanese usually do not have smoke detectors in their homes (like most westerners do). If they did have them, they would go off every time sanma was cooked!
Grilled sanma served without heads or tails ( quite rare!) with a dab of grated radish and a sprig of ginger
When writing about sanma and Japanese culture, it impossible not to mention the classic RAKUGO (traditional comic stories) routine known as the MEGURO NO SANMA spiel, which is based on a true story. It is this tale which has solidified, as if in stone, sanma`s position a food of the common people. Here is a summary:
One day, while the third Tokugawa Shogun, Iemitsu, was out hunting with his falcons, he was overcome with hunger. Stopping at a tea house in an area called Meguro (now in central Tokyo) and asking for something to eat, the shogun was served grilled sanma, a lowly dish which he would never under any circumstances be served at the castle. As you might have guessed, Iemitsu his rustic lunch. In fact, back at Edo Castle, when asked by the master chef what he would like for dinner, the Lord replied- sanma. After having confirmed that sanma was what the shogun really wanted, the chef ordered some brought in. The chef then proceeded to skillfully fillet it and then steam it up, removing all the unseemly fat. When dinner was served the shogun`s mouth was watering in anticipation. But when he put the fat-free, skinless, bone-less, gut-less fishmeat to his tongue and started to chew, his heart sank in disappointment. All he could say was- when it comes to sanma, Meguro is the place.
The restaurant at which the story took place still exists today.
The sanma festival held in Meguro (Tokyo), each year in September
And though Ive never eaten there, sanma has still become one of my favorite foods in Japan, having grown accustomed to it at the cheap set lunch joints around Tsukuba University. One grilled sanma with a dab of grated radish on the side. A big bowl of Ibaraki rice. A small square of tofu. A little dish of pickles, A bowl of miso soup. All the tea you can drink. From anywhere between 6oo and 900 Yen.
Im drooling just thinking about it.
If you have the chance, why dont you give it try!
There are many ways to prepare sanma, but any Japanese will tell you that grilling, despite all the fishy smoke, is THE best way to enjoy it.
Who cares if it`s common !
Sanma deserves a place in the internationally recognized pantheon of great Japanese foods!
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Tsukuba`s Smokey Autumn Air (The Gomi-Moshi Problem)
The view from my living room window ( Tsukuba- November 2010)
By Avi Landau
You wake up and open the curtains. Tsukuba’s autumn glare, markedly different from last week’s type of daylight, makes you squint, making you think that snow has probably fallen in more northerly or mountainous parts. Outside you can spy pampas grass, quince and persimmon. Eager for some fresh air, full of the memory-evoking and melancholy smells of Fall, you open the window and take a deep breath through your nose. UGGHH! You slam the window back shut as a thick pillar of smoke starts invading your room. You puff vigorously out of your nostrils to clear your nasal passages of any acrid residue, and quickly retreat into the inner-sanctums of your abode. The inconvenience gets worse as you start going about your daily routine – you are not going to be able take advantage of the sunshine and hang your laundry out to dry (in Japan dryers are still uncommon) or air out your futon mattress (which is what most Japanese do, as the sun kills bacteria and mold). Instead, you have to make sure the doors and windows are sealed and bring your dog inside.
What’s the story?
No, there is no house on fire in the neighborhood, nor is there a Grateful Dead concert going on next- door. It’s just what is probably the most annoying aspect of country life in Japan — the neighborhood farmers burning their agricultural waste! In Ibaraki this is often called GOMI MOSHI (from gomi moyashi, literally garbage burning).
Though it is actually now illegal (and has been for more than a decade), the authorities don’t actually enforce this rule, especially when it comes to elderly farmers (many of whom, for example my next door neighbor, seem to burn stuff everyday as a hobby), who can’t easily break the habit. For them it is perfectly natural, because in the old days ALL garbage was burned and burning is still a convenient way to get rid of leaves, twigs, stalks, etc. Burning also kills insects and plant diseases as well (which is what they tell me when I ask them why they do this). Watching them at it, I would also venture to say that another reason why they continue make these very smokey autumn bonfires is that it is a lot of FUN for them.
For the rest of us, however, it is a horrible intrusion into our homes, and very probably hazardous to our health and that of our families and pets. Even walking down the street isn’t safe. You might think that the road ahead is clear but suddenly the wind might change direction and blast you with smoke from a nearby, previously unnoticed gomi moshi fire. Of course you could hold your breath and dash away so as not to inhale any toxins, but still your clothes would smell smokey all day. European friends of mine actually left Tsukuba and moved to Tokyo saying that the air in the big city was cleaner!
I have never called the city office to complain or inform, but I am often tempted to when I see grandchildren (or great-grandchildren) or chained dogs being bombarded by this smoke. In all probability, what is being burned also contains plastics or other materials which would emit toxic fumes.
As someone who loves the Japanese countryside and is ardently interested in local traditions I am sad that I have to say that I hope that this annoying and dangerous, age old custom GOES UP IN SMOKE.
Burning agricultural waste in Higashi-Oka, Tsukuba
I have written more on Tsukuba`s autumn and winter bon-fires here:
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Daikon Radish hung out to Dry mark the beginning of the TAKUAN making season
Drying Daikon in the Sun- Hitachi OmiyaBy Avi Landau
Though it was still only mid-afternoon, the sun was already starting to set behind the mountains of central Ibaraki, and the perfectly clear winter skies ( so typical of that season, in Japan), started to pinken near the horizon.
Walking along a country road, hoping to slowly savor the further deepening and spreading of color, I suddenly came upon a typical ( but still always surprising for me) scene of the Japanese countryside in winter- large, daikon radishes, hung out in the sun to dry.
And though the radishes that I had just come across were still firm, fat and juicy looking ( they had obviously not been out their very long), their WHITENESS, which should have been dazzling after the washing they had gotten before hanging, was now gently reflecting the hues of the sunset ( a scene which the photos I took with my cell phone camera DO NOT do justice to).
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Japanese farmers hang radishes in the sun in early winter as the first step in the process of making the very commonly eaten pickle called a TAKUAN ( which was named after the man who is said to have invented it- the Buddhist monk, artist, poet swordsman and tea ceremony practicioner- TAKUAN-SOHO, 1573-1645)
A packet of takuan (on top)Though in recent years, practically odorless, STORE BOUGHT types of TAKUAN, which in supermarkets look like golden-yellow eels tightly airpacked into see-through plastic packages, have started to appear more and more frequently on tables ( and in lunch boxes) throughout Japan, in Tsukuba, and the rest of Ibaraki there are still plenty of families that continue to make them at home. These HOME-MADE TAKUAN vary in taste ( along with the recipe) from family to family and are often very strong smelling ( one of my neighbors presents me annually with a fresh batch of takuan which even wrapped tightly into TWO plastic bags SMELLS SO STRONGLY that I usually leave them OUTSIDE my door ( still, they are DELICIOUS !).
The home-made takuan are also much more appealing to me because they dont have all the CHEMICALS in them that the store bought ones do!
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The radishes are usually left hanging for 8-10 days. Its interesting to observe them day by day, starting out all white, juicy and plump, slowly yellowing, wrinklng and the bending into soft, yellowish, boomerangs.
These dried out radishes are them laid in a special barrel to be soaked and fermented in salt and NUKA ( rice bran, which is removed from the rice grains during polishing). Depending on the family recipe, the farmers might use sugar, citron, kelp, persimon skins etc., as ingredients. Up in Hitachi Omiya, in central Ibaraki, the farmers throw some NAILS into the mixture as well. They say the iron gives their takuan a distinctive flavor!
When the barrel is full, the lid is put on and something heavy ( often stones) are placed on top to press down on the mixture.
In about 40 days the TAKUAN will be ready.
Outside a takuan factory in Hitachi OmiyaThough these pickles are a representative food of winter, they are in fact eaten all year round. Until recent years, Ibaraki farmers usually ate them with each meal- or whenever rice was eaten ( still if someone makes rice-balls ( onigiri) for you they might give you an accompaniment of takuan. Obviously, in the days before refrigeration, it was a vital PRESERVED food.
Because of the ready and year-round availabilty of so many other types of delicious TSUKEMONO ( Japanense pickles), the consumption of takuan has certainly declined, and some have told me that they eat less takuan these days to keep keep their diet less salty.
Takuan Served at Ajiyama in Tsukuba
With the bed-town-ization of Tsukuba proceeding at full-throttle we will be seeing less and less radishes hanging out to dry around here. One sad day, you might only to be able to find evidence of the custom around here in the archives of Tsukublog. Until that time, keep an eye out for them. They are out there hanging at this very moment!
I have written more about DAIKON here-
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