Yamakawa: Three Great Confections of Japan, Furyudo, Matsue Shimane, Wagashi-na Sukuchai 010, 2025.06.01
Wagashi-na Sukuchai010 Shimane > Matsue
Furyudo "Yamakawa" (Matsue, Shimane) One of the Three Great Confections of Japan
The Three Great Confections of Japan also include Morihachi's "Choseiden" (Kanazawa) and Yamatoya's "Koshi no Yuki" (Nagaoka, Niigata), which appeared in a previous article (three posts ago)..
As these are overly famous confections, no explanation is needed here.
Please refer to websites or books as appropriate.
…or so I would like to say, but I will dare to write just a little.
The name "Yamakawa" was taken from a poem by Matsue domain lord Matsudaira Harusato (Lord Matsudaira Fumai): "The falling leaves are floating, the falling ones are sinking, the shadows of the autumn leaves are the water of the mountain stream in Takao." The light red and white represent the autumn leaves and the murmuring of the river, respectively.
It was restored by the second generation of Furyudo, which was founded in 1890 (Meiji 23).
The reason for this is that the "Yamakawa" that Lord Fumai is said to have favored at the time was a phantom confection that had once disappeared after the Meiji Restoration.
In 1918 (Taisho 7), to coincide with the 100th memorial service for Lord Fumai, the second generation of Furyudo, Ryuhei Naito, deciphered the few remaining documents and succeeded in reproducing it.
It is said that the second generation did not monopolize this technique, but widely shared it with other Japanese confectionery shops, contributing to the development of the entire Japanese confectionery culture in Matsue.
Having tasted both, my impression is that this "Yamakawa" feels slightly more elastic than "Koshi no Yuki," and I felt it was closer to a typical rakugan than "Koshi no Yuki." Even when picked up, it does not have the sensation of crumbling into powder as much as "Koshi no Yuki." I believe this is because it contains kanbaiko (known as mijinko in the Kanto region). I think the kanbaiko binds the sugar and creates elasticity by incorporating a small amount of air. "Koshi no Yuki" does not use kanbaiko and is bound by the moisture of wasanbon sugar and glutinous rice (kanzarashi-ko, or shiratamako), which is why it is more prone to crumbling.
Tea sweets of that time were valued for having a smooth mouthfeel that melted in the mouth without leaving an aftertaste, and this "Yamakawa," as well as the "Koshi no Yuki" from the previous article, certainly fit that description.
However, in terms of melting in the mouth, "Koshi no Yuki" disappeared more gracefully. There was no need to chew it. On the other hand, "Yamakawa" requires the act of lightly chewing. This is not a matter of good or bad, but rather a matter of the eater's preference.
As someone who has loved rakugan since childhood, I am more accustomed to the texture of "Yamakawa," and I am convinced that "Yamakawa" is the highest quality rakugan I have ever eaten.
That said, "Koshi no Yuki" provided a melt-in-the-mouth experience I had never had before, which was intensely fresh and a pleasure that could become addictive.
Ultimately, I end up liking both.
One thing to mention is that when this "Yamakawa" is in the box, as you can see in the photo, it is not cut, so you have to break it yourself or cut it with a knife when eating. The "content" on the box said "1 piece," and I wondered about that before opening it. Having seen the light red and white pieces in the shop display, I wondered why it was one piece and not two.
After opening the box and touching it, I realized that although the light red and white pieces have lines when viewed from above, they are actually stuck together. However, this can be easily separated into two by applying force to bend it by hand. I assume they make the light red and white pieces separately and press them together just before putting them in the box.
However, because the dough has some elasticity and does not crumble, it is not difficult to break it by hand or cut it with a knife. In particular, a knife blade enters smoothly and cuts easily without crumbling, so there is no need to worry.
But what should you do if you are out and about and don't have a knife on hand?The 5th Sanyutei Enraku(Enraku-san with the horse face) imitated eating a whole bar of yokan by biting into it, so perhaps one would end up biting into the "Yamakawa" as it is, without cutting it. Biting into one of the Three Great Confections of Japan while holding it in your hand must be a bold way to eat it, and I think that might not be a bad idea either.
By the way, if 'Koshi no Yuki' weren't pre-cut, I'd be at a loss. I can clearly see it crumbling to pieces whether I tried to apply a knife blade or just bite into it directly. If it did crumble, it would be a waste, so would I have to scrape up the powder, gather it in my palm or on a plate, hold my breath, and eat it all at once? Somehow, it brings to mind an image of Sanyutei Koraku crawling on the floor to lap up spilled shochu or finding a piece of Kabuki-age rice cracker that fell into the gap of a sofa and eating it with delight—it's not a very dignified image. (This story about Koraku-san is just a joke.)
The point is that 'Koshi no Yuki' is kindly pre-cut into bite-sized pieces.
Furthermore, while there are other Japanese confectionery shops that produce 'Yamakawa' besides Furyudo, which I wrote about in this article, Furyudo was the first to produce the revived version.
Furyudo did not monopolize the production method but shared it with the following Japanese confectionery shops.
・Saneido, known for 'Natane no Sato'
・Saiundo, known for 'Wakakusa' and 'Saimon'
・Ichirikido, known for 'Himekosode' (made to order)
(End)