The large ohagi my grandmother used to make is the origin of my love for anko

Once I started writing about anko,
I wanted to write about this and that,
and my love for anko just won't stop.

Whenever something happened,
my grandmother would always make ohagi for me.

Since it was country-style ohagi,
it was huge,
and covered in plenty of anko.

On the days she made ohagi,
my grandmother would cook the anko from the morning,
and I loved watching her do it.

The adzuki beans were grown by my grandmother in her field.
She grew them specifically to make ohagi.

I remember hearing my aunts
saying that she should just buy adzuki beans instead,
but my grandmother wouldn't listen, insisting she had to grow them herself.

The anko made from those beans—
my grandmother made it simply because she wanted to feed it to her grandchild,
that was the feeling she put into making it.

And the piping hot anko made from those beans—
the happiness of tasting it fresh,
even now, it makes my heart tighten.

Rolling the sticky rice,
and coating the rolled rice with anko,
she did it all in the dirt-floor room.

Since it was a country house,
it had a large dirt-floor room.

It was cool, and she would spread newspapers on the cold wooden floor,
line up the sticky rice and the anko there,
and coat the rolled rice with the anko.

With her back hunched over,
in a posture as if she were crawling on the floor, the image of my grandmother making ohagi
is something I can still clearly remember even now.

Including things like that,
it all contributes to the deliciousness of the ohagi,
and I suppose, the deliciousness of the anko.

On the days she made ohagi,
I was so, so happy,
I would eat ohagi for breakfast,
ohagi for lunch,
ohagi for a snack,
and ohagi for dinner.

It's partly because I love ohagi,
but when I would say how delicious it was while eating,
my grandmother would look so happy,
and I think I ate so much just because I wanted to see that look.

Even now, when I remember those times,
I feel like I'm being wrapped in something incredibly warm and gentle.

That's why,
deliciousness isn't just something you feel with your tongue.

Even though nearly half a century has passed since then,
I still remember those times.

For that reason,
I have been in love with anko ever since.

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■See how to make "Okuzono-style Anko" in the daily recipe

■ Reading the movie diary 'Sweet Bean'