Spring in Nagasaki is sweet and a little dry. | A story about the 'unbeatable alliance' of peach castella and milk

March.
Around the time when hina arare and diamond-shaped rice cakes are lined up across the country.

But in Nagasaki, a peach sits prominently in the center.
Yes, the 'peach castella'.

In China, the peach has long been a symbol of 'longevity' and 'warding off evil'.
In Japan, too, it is considered a fruit that dispels evil spirits, and the name 'Peach Festival' (Hinamatsuri) bears traces of this.

Castella, which was introduced from Portugal in the 16th century.
The auspicious peach culture originating from China.

These two met in the port town of Nagasaki and joined hands.

Portugal's castella culture.
China's peach-based good luck culture.

It is truly a crystallization of sweet diplomatic relations.

Peach castella and my defeat

I understand the logic.
The history and the wishes are beautiful.

But.

I used to hate this peach castella.

Because it is sickeningly sweet.

I hear people say it's a moist and gentle castella.

Is that an urban legend?

The boldness of layering even more sugar on top.
The pressure of the celebration is intense.

……However.

The peach castella in my memory is not moist.
Every single one of them was dry.

Castella is a confection that stands on the power of eggs and sugar.
It is not the type that is moistened with butter.

Perhaps that is why.

It takes the moisture out of your mouth in an instant.
Saliva quietly stolen at a celebratory table.

A drink was essential.
Milk was the best.

Peach castella x Milk.
That is no longer just a partnership; it is a joint struggle.
An alliance that cannot function with just one side.

Even though the international diplomacy was a success,
diplomatic relations with my tongue have yet to be normalized.

That is why, even now that I am an adult,
I have never bought and eaten peach castella myself.

That wall of sugar and
the memory of its dryness still stand within me.

But, I think.

Perhaps that excessive sweetness
was the measure of the wish for me to 'please be healthy'.

Modesty is not enough.
Without holding back, without sparing anything.

That is why it is so white and so thick.

I want to accept the wish.
But my sense of taste is honest.

Will a spring ever come
when I can face it without milk?

Or will I, as expected,
reconcile with a glass in hand?

Spring in Nagasaki is sweet and a little dry.🍑🥛

What kind of story is this, anyway?