I put in three pickled plums | The story of how I could no longer go back to ordinary ochazuke

MOON side episode No.27

You don't need high-end tableware
to make the best plum ochazuke.

But,
I thought
one pickled plum wasn't enough.

Three.

Today,
I decided to go a little luxurious.

The kitchen in the evening.

Outside the window,
the colors of night were beginning to descend little by little.

The low hum of the ventilation fan.
In the pot,
steam swaying softly.

On the cutting board,
Kishu Nanko plums.

From a transparent container,
I take out three large pickled plums.

When I lift them with my fingertips,
the skin is thin,
and with just a little pressure,
the soft flesh inside comes through.

While gazing at those red fruits,
I imagine the scenery of Minabe Town, Wakayama Prefecture.

Plum trees continuing along the mountain slopes.
A white light truck climbing a narrow farm road.
A person bending at the waist,
picking up plums one by one.

Fingertips that were checking the surface
while rolling them in the palm of their hand.

I learned that there is a very long time
beyond the pickled plums
that I had thought were just sour.

That's why today,
I'm eating them seriously.

In the pot,
kombu chosen for its origin.
Dried sardines.
Bonito flakes.
Soy sauce.
Sake.
Salt.
To that, I add chicken stock.

Over low heat,
I let it simmer slowly.

The gentle umami of the kombu.
The powerful aroma of the dried sardines.
The outline of the bonito.
The depth of the chicken stock.

Different flavors,
layering little by little in the pot.

I skim the scum,
check the heat.

Check the taste.
A little more salt.
And soy sauce.

With this dashi,
I could use it for soup.
I could use it for stews.
Like bouillon or consommé,
it can be the foundation for various dishes.

However,
today I'm using this for ochazuke.

Raised with care,
put in the effort,
and the last thing to do
was to mash up the pickled plums.

I serve freshly cooked rice
into a slightly large rice bowl.

White steam
rose softly in front of my face.

In the center,
three Nanko plums.

The red plums
lined up proudly on top of the white rice.

First, the first one.

I don't pour the dashi yet.

I gently break the thin skin with the tip of my chopsticks,
and take just a little of the soft flesh.

I carry it straight to my mouth.

Sour.

I squint involuntarily.

But,
immediately after, the saltiness and
the rich umami of the plum itself spread out.

The skin is thin.
The flesh is soft.

On my tongue,
it crumbles away.

First,
I enjoy the pickled plum itself.

One more bite.

This time,
together with the freshly cooked white rice.

The sweetness of the rice catches
the sourness of the plum.

This alone is delicious enough.

But,
it's not over yet.

The second one.

This time, a bit boldly,
I break the plum with my chopsticks.

I spread the red flesh onto the rice,
and mix it lightly with the white grains.

To that,
I pour just a little of the piping hot dashi.

Kombu.
Dried sardines.
Bonito.
Chicken stock.
Soy sauce and sake.

Steam carrying each aroma
rose to my face all at once.

The red of the plum
slowly bleeds into the dashi.

One mix with the chopsticks.

I lift the bowl slightly.

Together with the dashi,
I carry the rice to my mouth.

Delicious.

The sourness of the plum that had been
hitting me head-on until just now
is wrapped in the umami of the dashi and becomes mellow.

Then the aroma of the nori seaweed.
The texture of the arare rice crackers.
The green scent of the trefoil.

One more bite.

One more bite.

The movement of my chopsticks
gets faster little by little.

And the third one.

From here on,
I stopped eating carefully.

I gather the remaining plums,
and mash them up with the tips of my chopsticks.

The first one too.
The second one too.
The third one too.

Even the flesh left around the seeds,
I scrape it off thoroughly.

The red plum flesh
spreads throughout the bowl.

The white rice
was dyed a pale plum color in places.

To that,
more dashi.

I pour plenty of piping hot dashi
once more.

New steam
rises up softly.

The sourness of the plum.
The aroma of the dashi.
Nori.
Trefoil.
Arare.

Everything
mixed together in one bowl.

Once you get this far,
chopsticks are a bit too slow.

I hold the bowl with both hands.
I bring it to my mouth.

Slurp.

One bite.
Another bite.

This time,
before I even chew,
the dashi and rice slide down my throat.

Sour.

Delicious.

Hot.

Delicious again.

Once in the middle,
I set the bowl down.

I exhale a small breath.

And then,
I hold it again.

Slurp, slurp, slurp.

The pickled plums that had been lined up as three
are nowhere to be found now.

They melted into the dashi,
mixed with the rice,
and changed their form with every bite.

At first,
savor the plum itself.

Next,
let it meet the dashi.

Finally,
mash everything up.

The bolder the way of eating,
the faster the speed of the chopsticks became.

And before I knew it,
I had shoveled it all down to the last bite.

I set the bowl down.

At the bottom,
only three seeds remain cleanly.

The mountains of Minabe Town.
Plum trees.
The hands of the farmers.
Dashi that took a long time to make.
Freshly cooked rice.

And,
three pickled plums used luxuriously.

Inside one bowl of ochazuke,
there were many things.

The best plum ochazuke
could not be eaten elegantly.

But,
that is the best.

While looking at the three seeds left at the bottom of the bowl,
I decided to serve myself another bowl.

End

▶︎Article by Manami-san, the don of the pickled plum world

▶︎Article by Yamaoku-san of the Wakayama pickled plum world

After enjoying your ochazuke,
please read these as a palate cleanser.🔴

🌙Observation Note

Items that appeared in this work

Kishu Nanko Plums

To those who read this article to the end
and became hungry for pickled plums.

I won't say three.
First, please start with one.

I am already in the world of five.🔴

※This article contains affiliate links.

🌙To those visiting MOON for the first time

▶︎This is the observation guide for "MOON | Records of Discomfort".

If you are unsure where to start reading,
please start here first.

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