FOOD FOR PROSPERITY

Tokyo: this world-class metropolis is a veritable gourmet wonderland.

Discover the stories behind the ingredients that make this city so delicious - so "oishii."

Japan is home to many annual traditions that have been cherished for generations.

And lucky foods are an important part of that.

Praying for healthy children, longevity, and prosperity...

People in Japan have savored seasonal foods with gratitude since long ago.

Wow.

Oh, I really like this.

Light and refreshing.

Whether to invite a bountiful harvest, health, longevity, or success in business, food plays a symbolic role in annual events, and brings great mystical powers!

Join our reporters on a recap of some of Japan's most festive foods covered on Trails to Oishii Tokyo so far.

Beautiful red.

Wow.

Look at that.

Trails to Oishii Tokyo.

"Kagami mochi" is a New Year's decoration featuring round mochi rice cakes stacked on top of each other.

Considered a lucky food, mochi is made of rice, Japan's precious staple.

Rice is a symbol of providence and vitality, so mochi is said to be packed with special powers.

Our American reporter Hunter visits a farm in Saitama to learn how to make some.

- Hello.
- Welcome.

He'll meet Hagiwara Satomi, whose family has farmed here for generations.

She's also active in green tourism, sharing her knowledge of traditional farming culture that involves living in harmony with nature.

Mochi is a big part of this.

- Please teach me how to make mochi.
- Sure. Let's begin.

Thank you.

The rice eaten daily in Japan is "uruchi-mai," or non-sticky rice.

To make mochi, however, sticky rice is used.

Mochi rice is pre-soaked in water over night and steamed over high heat for about 40 minutes.

It's ready.

This is her son, Tetsuya.

He kneads the rice with a mortar and pestle, or "usu" and "kine" in Japanese.

Put some weight into it.

So your arms don't get tired.

Once the rice is mashed together, they'll begin a method called 'tsuku.' - Slowly.
- Got it.

Hunter begins to swing.

It's a joint effort.

One person pounds while the other resets the position of the mochi.

The duo needs to find a rhythm, and work in harmony.

The mochi is struck about 200 times.

This presses the rice together into an elastic and sticky dough.

It's very sticky.

It's then separated into smaller pieces.

Pinch some off like this and make it into a ball.

Freshly pounded mochi is easy to separate by hand.

- You have big hands.
- I do!

Kinako powder is a common mochi topping.

It's roasted soybeans grated and mixed with sugar.

The mochi I've had before was very, like, stretchy and sticky.

But this mochi here, it's not sticky or stretchy, so it's easy to chew, and it's very easy to swallow.

Like, it doesn't...it doesn't get stuck in your mouth.

So, you could easily overeat this kind of mochi.

When fresh, mochi is elastic but easy to chew - - something that can only be enjoyed for a short time, as the mochi will dry and harden quickly.

Mochi is holy to me.

I see.

We pound mochi and thank the gods
for a good year, and pray for another.

That's the mochi culture.

- Deeper than I thought.
- Right.

In the past, the sound of pounding mochi signaled the end of the year in Japan.

Naturally dried mochi was an important preserved food.

Even today, it's often grilled or simmered.

In Japan, families eat a special
mochi dish at New Year's.

Here it is.

"Zoni."

"Zoni" is a soup containing seafood or vegetables along with mochi.

It often has a soy sauce or miso base.

There are too many zoni recipes to keep track of.

It's a special dish eaten at home at New Year's.

Traditionally, rice is believed to be a gift from the gods.

Mochi was shaped to resemble a round "yorishiro," an object that attracts the gods into the home, giving them a physical space to dwell during festivities.

This is said to be why mochi is round in western Japan, especially in Kyoto.

Here is zoni from Kyoto - a sweet, miso-based soup with round mochi.

Very elegant, very Kyoto.

Creamy soup with chewy
mochi is a great combination.

Zoni from Tokyo is simple and soy sauce-based.

This mochi is rectangular and grilled.

Rectangular mochi was a product of Edo, now known as Tokyo.

With a booming population came increased mochi demand, so it was stretched and cut into rectangular pieces for mass production.

The new type caught on and spread around eastern Japan.

The crisp texture of the grilled mochi
pairs nicely with the soup.

People enjoy their zoni as they pray for good health and safety in the new year.

Deeply rooted in Japan's culinary culture, mochi adds sacred symbolism to annual festivities.

Oh, that's so nice!

Wow.

You can see that the rice is becoming a bit pink already.

"Sekihan" is a typical food served on festive occasions.

It's rice cooked with "azuki" beans.

"Azuki" are small red beans.

Their deep red color is said to ward off evil spirits.

Azuki also invite good health and fortune, making them a must for festivities.

Saskia, from Belgium, heads to Tamba, Hyogo, where some 1,000 farmers grow the region's high-quality Dainagon azuki.

Hello.

This is Nakade Yasuhiro, the 12th-generation owner of this long-established farm.

- This is an azuki field.
- I see.

Azuki beans are in here.

Oh?

Yes, in these pods.

Open them up to find the azuki.

Ah, there they are. Cute.

- Pretty color, right?
- Yes, very pretty.

Azuki are planted in mid-July, following the rainy season.

They're harvested from November to December.

Farmers know when to pick them by how dry the pods are.

They change color at different times.

It all takes a month or so.

The beans in green pods don't have deep color yet.

- As they dry, the color gets deeper.
- I see.

- We pick all dried pods by hand.
- By hand?

We circle the field many times.

- That must take a while.
- Indeed.

Azuki are vulnerable to low temperatures, and are easily damaged by frost.

Dried pods must be identified and harvested quickly before frost sets in.

It's, like, really difficult because you have to look at every single one then pick them.

So, it takes a long time to pull them off.

Sorting is also done by hand.

They're closely inspected for insect bites and quality.

Damaged and small ones are discarded.

Azuki are from a legume family that originates in East Asia.

Ancient remains indicate they've been in Japan for over 5,000 years, and it's thought they were already being farmed by then.

Japan's oldest history text, the 8th-century Kojiki, refers to azuki as one of Japan's "gokoku" - its five most important crops.

Since ancient times, azuki beans have had a special place in the hearts of the Japanese.

Azuki beans are a key ingredient in "wagashi," traditional Japanese sweets.

Saskia heads to Kyoto to find out more.

A sampling of delicately designed, autumn-themed wagashi.

Created by master artisans, they're like edible works of art.

I'll try this autumn manju bun.

How pretty.

The beans have such a nice shape.

Here I go.

Sweet with a beany texture. Delicious.

Thank you.

Tamba Dainagon have a strong flavor.

They're a wonderful ingredient.

We cook them so that they maintain their form.

That way they're warmer and fluffier.

- Is this azuki in here?
- Yes.

"Oishii!"

The wrapping has a different sweetness.
What a great balance.

Thank you.

It's made from azuki too.

Azuki come in white varieties, too.

The wagashi wrapping is created by making sweet simmered white azuki into a paste, then steaming and kneading it.

Autumn flare is added with food coloring.

Azuki took wagashi to new and sophisticated culinary heights.

You can say azuki is the backbone of wagashi.

It's the most important ingredient.

- No azuki, no wagashi?
- That's right.

Azuki - the little red bean that plays a big role in Japanese tradition.

This is "osechi."

It's a special meal eaten at New Year's.

It invites good fortune into the New Year, and each ingredient has its own special meaning.

Shrimp, with their hunched-over backs, represent longevity.

Fish roe symbolizes fertility.

And you can't have osechi without "renkon," the funny vegetable with holes in it.

It's been considered a lucky food since ancient times.

Meet Kyle from Canada.

He's at a wholesale market in Tokyo to find some renkon.

Excuse me.

Can you show me some renkon?

- Here we are.
- That's renkon?

Though it's called lotus root in English, it's actually a tuber, which grows thick underground much like a potato.

The lotus is an aquatic plant noted for its beautiful white and pink flowers.

Said to originate in India, it came to Japan about 1600 years ago via China.

The main consumers of renkon are Japan and China, though it's also consumed elsewhere in Asia.

It's often eaten at New Year's.

If you cut it, you see holes.
We say they offer a view into the future.

So eating them brings good fortune.

The holes are endless.

They're good luck because
you can see into the future.

Definitely a clear view.

The idea is that renkon offers a clear glimpse into the future.

But it's probably better to eat it than play with it.

How does it taste?

Kyle visits a restaurant in Ueno, Tokyo to find out.

Twenty renkon dishes are found on the menu.

Enjoy.

This is pickled renkon.

It is created by boiling and then soaking renkon in water, followed by marinating it in vinegar, which gives it a nice white sheen.

So, the renkon has a crispness of a fresh ripe apple, but not quite as crunchy as a carrot.

It's right in the middle there.

That crispness is one of renkon's main selling points.

Renkon is common in simmered dishes.

Here, it's simmered in soup stock for half a day.

It offers a firm texture that's different from its raw crunchiness.

A dish that shows off renkon's unique character.

When cooked, it's super sticky.

Look at these strings.

Renkon contains a large amount of dietary fibers that aren't broken down when boiled.

It also contains as much vitamin C as a lemon, plus iron and tannins.

Now, Kyle's in Ibaraki, the largest production area of renkon.

So far, there's no field in sight.

He sees someone working in the distance.

What are you doing?

- Harvesting renkon.
- Renkon!

Here.

There it is.

Look, it's a renkon!

It's under there?

Yes, in the mud.

This area is mostly wetlands.

Renkon grow in the mud, so that's just right.

Kyle gets into a waterproof, cold protection work suit to help out.

I think I just sank up to my knees in mud.

Actually, it feels great.

Kind of therapeutic.

Renkon is harvested here with a method called water drilling.

Water is sprayed into the mud with these high-powered hoses.

Wow, that's powerful.

Renkon grows in the mud beneath the water.

After flowers blossom, new stems appear from the nodes between the root and become renkon.

Those mysterious holes inside the renkon are actually pipes for oxygen.

The underwater stems are able to grow so large by sucking in oxygen through those pipes.

New nodes then spawn new stems, causing the renkon to grow in an ever-widening circle.

Avoid hitting the renkon directly.

Otherwise, it'll break.
Just use it on the surrounding soil.

Earth to renkon!

Where are you, renkon?

I broke it. Sorry.

It looked like a good one too.

How do you raise good renkon?

The soil must be kept soft.
Otherwise, they won't come out nice and round.

These renkon farmers use virtually no herbicides or other chemicals.

Instead, they concentrate on developing good soil.

Finely-ground soil is mixed with water to make a very smooth mud.

It's in this mud that nice round renkon are able to grow.

Lotus flowers have a very strong connection with Buddhism.

Take a close look at this Buddha's seat.

He's actually seated on a lotus flower.

The lotus is a beautiful flower that emerges from mud.

In Buddhism, it is a symbol of purity and innocence, never to be influenced by earthly wickedness.

Japan: a country steeped in Buddhist tradition.

No doubt the Japanese appreciation of renkon as more than just a food is deeply entwined in that tradition.

The month of November - when families visit shrines to pray for the healthy growth of children that have just turned 3, 5 or 7 years old.

The kids are given little bags of lucky treats.

What's inside?

This - "chitose ame."

"Ame" means candy!

Chitose ame is made of malt syrup that's been stretched and hardened.

The length symbolizes growth and longevity.

Surely, eating the candy will help kids grow big and strong!

Chitose ame was apparently given
to visitors during the late Edo period.

They symbolize the growth and well-being of children.

Medical care wasn't the way it is today.

Hygiene was poor as well.

The candy symbolized growth and
even provided nourishment.

As an American, our candy culture isn't nearly as deep as that.

You know, we have Halloween, Valentine's Day, Christmas, and we consume a lot of candy, but it doesn't really have any deep meaning besides the fact that it's delicious.

It tastes good.

So to hear the tradition, about 200 years long from the end of the Edo period, and how it's not just sugar, it's not just candy,

but there's a deeper meaning to it, I found that very interesting.

Anxious to see more types of ame, Hunter checks out a shop with over 100 years of history.

- Hello.
- Welcome.

- I'm Hunter.
- I'm Watanabe. Nice to meet you.

Likewise.

I heard you have interesting ame.

What is it?

That would be this.

Open this up.

Huh.

- Who is this?
- Kintaro.

Who is that?

Kintaro is a strong folk hero who bravely defeated a bear.

He's a popular icon and a symbol of children's growth.

Try breaking it in half.

Sure, I'll take care of that for you.

Oh, we have twins!

Right. The pattern runs through.

Cool!

So, there's a super long face inside.

Exactly.

I see.

Every cross-section has a spitting image of Kintaro.

This is done in a process called "kumiame."

Kintaro ame takes five people to make.

Each part of the candy is colored separately.

Ame cools and hardens quickly, so they have to work fast.

This is why the work is divided between five people.

Teamwork is key.

It's time for the kumiame stacking process.

The mouth is made first.

The black and white strips make the eyelashes!

Ready, go.

And there he is!

The full face weighs 50 kilograms!

How do they make this into small candy?

Here we go!

Four large rollers in this machine stretch it, making it long and thin.

The ame goes from 70 centimeters to 250 meters long.

Kintaro shows up on every cross section!

One roll makes about 7,000 pieces.

Candy filled with a parent's desire for children to grow up big and strong like Kintaro.

Speaking of growth... check out these tall trees.

In Japan, bamboo symbolizes vitality.

Bamboo shoots, or "takenoko," are another lucky ingredient often used in festive dishes.

Bamboo grows well and quickly, so they also symbolize success.

Janni from Sweden visits a restaurant in Tokyo to try some takenoko.

Hello.

Tanaka Masaru goes directly to production areas to carefully select his takenoko.

We don't eat much takenoko in Sweden.
Is it popular in Japan?

Yes.
It's the flavor of spring.

It's eaten from March to early May.
The peak is during cherry blossom season.

That's when it tastes the best.

But you can't eat them raw.

Takenoko are quite bitter, so they need to be prepped first.

Add takenoko, powdered rice bran, and a chili pepper to a pot, and bring it to boil.

Let them boil for about an hour.

Takenoko are boiled in their skin to retain "umami."

They need to soak for about 10 hours after boiling.

Then rinse the bran off and you're good to go.

The skin is taken off to reveal a yellow shoot.

Here's a cross section.

This one piece actually has three different textures.

The tips of young shoots have a
tenderness you can enjoy first.

The center has a firmer texture,
and more so towards the bottom.

That makes them fun to eat.

Boiling takenoko with wakame seaweed is a great way to savor the different textures.

Janni starts at the bottom of the shoot.

"Oishii." Great texture.
It has a slight crunch to it.

Now the soft tip.

It's so nice and juicy.

It soaked up the tasty dashi.
Oishii!

Preparing takenoko in different ways brings out different textures and flavors.

It's cooked over charcoal and covered with soy sauce, providing an aroma and sweetness similar to grilled corn.

Cooking it different ways brings out
different textures, flavors and aromas.

It's quite a fun ingredient!

I see it as a type of Japanese soul food.

I try to make it even softer, milder and tastier.

It's a versatile ingredient I experiment with every year.

How nice.

Now, Janni is on her way to Otaki in Chiba.

Being 70% forest cover, the area provides a rich takenoko harvest.

Janni visits a farmer's house before sunup.

Good morning.

Morning!

I heard you grow delicious takenoko.
You start this early in the morning?

Right. I want to supply ones that
are dug out first thing in the morning.

This is my grove.

That's quite a slope.

They set off to work on the steep 45-degree slope.

Janni searches, but doesn't see any takenoko.

Look here. See?

There's an opening.

That's what we're looking for?

There it is!

Here we are.

This is tough work!

- It's like a treasure hunt.
- It really is.

How nice.

- Our takenoko.
- Great.

Takenoko grow on a rootstalk attached to a parent stalk deep in the ground.

When they first emerge, they grow several centimeters a day.

After 10 days, they can grow dozens of centimeters a day, or even over a meter.

The struggle is choosing which to leave behind to act as parent stalks the next year.

I start to see nice takenoko
between early and mid-April.

But I refrain from digging them up.

Animals will eat them, so as they grow
taller, I keep them covered.

Those strong parent stalks
produce good takenoko.

The stars of his grove are the white bamboo shoots.

Do you see the white roots?
Other bamboo have red roots.

Let's take a look.

White takenoko are comparatively sweeter and softer, so they're quite special.

You can even eat them raw.

It's sweet!

And very moist.

Juicier than expected.

Interesting.

This is a first for me.
You can eat it raw.

Absolutely.

Janni learns a fresh white takenoko recipe from Setsuko, Kimizuka's wife.

White takenoko isn't as bitter, so no prep is needed.

Slice it up and boil it.

Add soup stock and miso paste.

Wow! It's still crisp.

A similar aroma and sweetness to corn.

Because it's fresh.

It was used as-is, so the sweetness
and umami remain strong.

Representing progress and success, takenoko invite the coming of spring.

A full moon in mid autumn.

In Japan, moon-viewing festivals are held to admire the night sky and make offerings to the moon.

A typical offering is a taro root vegetable called "sato-imo."

What does it symbolize?

To find out more, Kyle visits the Tsukiji Outer Market.

Good morning.

Hello.

I came to learn about sato-imo.

These are all sato-imo.

- All of these?
- Yes.

They all look different.

But all in the sato-imo family.

Sato-imo is grown nationwide.

It's thought Japan has over 200 types, which vary widely in size and shape.

This is the standard type.

- Quite round.
- Yes.

It actually looks like a tiny coconut.

It's got little hairs, fibers, it's brown...

Looks like a mini coconut.

My impression is that sato-imo is kind of
minor compared to potatoes or sweet potatoes.

True. It's simple but satisfying.
It's an essential ingredient for celebrations.

Rice is the staple in Japan,
but sato-imo was eaten here even before rice.

Before rice? That's amazing.

Sato-imo is a variety of taro, a root vegetable from tropical Asia.

Sato-imo is thought to have been brought to Japan over 3,000 years ago.

It's regarded as one of the oldest plants cultivated here.

For centuries, this 1,000-year-old shrine in Chiba has held a ritual in which sato-imo is dedicated to its deity during the Lunar New Year.

With a mound of sato-imo offered by farmers in the area, people pray for a rich harvest and sound health.

Sato-imo has been a go-to offering since ancient times.

They're like messengers that send people's wishes to the gods.

Kyle heads to Saitama, a major sato-imo production area.

Good morning.

Hosonuma Hiroshi is a 12th-generation farmer.

His family has grown sato-imo here for almost 300 years.

Here's the sato-imo.

So tall!

Until three centuries ago, this area was a large marsh.

For sato-imo, which favors water-retaining soil, the quality of the land here is ideal.

The secret to its symbolism lies beneath the soil.

Here we go.

- Look at this lump.
- Oh, it looks round...

Yes.

He washes off the soil to reveal a cluster of sato-imo.

Interesting.

When you plant just one in spring,
this many grow by autumn.

Seriously? How does it work?

Many grow from one.

I'll show you.

It's hard to see, so I'll break it up.

When you plant a seed plant, a parent corm grows.

Then child and grandchild corms emerge.

Exactly.

That's why we've long valued sato-imo as
a symbol of fertility and prosperity.

Kyle picked one that produced 45 offspring.

The true symbol of a big, happy family.

This is why sato-imo has been a key celebration food since ancient times.

Kyle will try some of Hosonuma's home cooking.

Peel the brown skin completely.

It's getting slippery!

Wonderful.

Done!

That is sticky and slimy.

Look at that.

Wash off the stickiness by adding a pinch of salt and rinsing quickly.

This helps it absorb condiments too.

A quick rinse is enough.

Next, saute in a pot.

Pour in enough water so that the corms are nearly submerged.

Then add some sake...

and sugar.

Mix and turn the heat to medium.

Ooo, it looks creamy already.

After 10 minutes, add soy sauce.

Simmer it down, but try not to burn it!

Let the flavors soak in, and dish it up.

All right. And we are done.

With that, this Japanese home-cooking favorite, sato-imo tumbles, is complete.

Oh, hot. Mmm.

That is moist. It's just moist and tender and just creamy.

And the sauce, that's just rich and full of flavor, wow.

So simple but so good.

Sato-imo is truly special.

It's our soul food.

Lucky sato-imo is a foundation of Japanese food culture, and will continue to nourish and warm the hearts of Japan for many generations to come.

Since long ago, food has carried profound meaning in Japan.

It offers a tasty way for people to pray for a long and prosperous life.

Long-standing traditions have added great depth to Japanese food culture that takes it far beyond flavor and nutrition.

It's truly food for prosperity.

In Tokyo, every ingredient has its own story.