From the four winds and the scent of the earth,

come the color of the seasons.

Exploring the four seasons of Japan.

In Japan, fruits that line storefronts remind us of the season.

From summer to autumn, the season changes.

Every fruit bears a story.

On a remote southern island, merchants gather at a fruit store enjoying a chat.

They bring seasonal flavors from their own fields.

We have persimmons too.

That's a persimmon tree.

We peel and dry them in November.

It's fun. We sell a lot.

A harvest festival is underway in a grape-growing region.

Grapes have supported people's lives in a land unsuitable for growing rice.

At a local temple, a Buddha holds grapes.

The temple grows its own grapes.

These are a cure-all medicine.

In the north, fields of akebia are plenty.

It's delicious and sweet.

Tastes like the old days. We
used to eat them like this.

Woops, I ate the seeds.

A unique custom is undertaken when making offerings to ancestors.

We send the souls of the
deceased on an akebia boat.

In this episode of Seasoning the Seasons, join us on a journey of fruits from all over Japan.

It is late summer in Tokyo.

In a bustling shopping street about a century old is a store started by the grandparents of Nakamura Taiki.

Kazumiya is a fruit store that has been in business for three generations.

You see fewer fruit stores these days,
but I really want to change that.

We're different from grocery
stores or supermarkets.

Taiki's grandmother Chizuko was born in a famous fruit-growing region.

I've been here 65 years.
I'm the poster grandma.

Sweet peaches. A little bruised,
but they taste delicious.

- We enjoyed them so much the other day, too.
- Right?

Our peaches are good.

- Who are you taking them to?
- To my three girlfriends.

You don't have a girlfriend.

Autumn flavors are beginning to appear in the store.

Pears.

Hosui.

We have Hosui and Akizuki.
Hosui has a rougher texture...

Japanese pears are characterized by their round shape and crispy texture.

Each variety has its own taste, but one pear stands out for its refreshing tartness.

The variety "Nijusseiki," means "20th century."

Nowadays, sweet-tasting varieties are popular, but Nijusseiki pears have been loved for their sweet and tart taste.

Yurihama, Tottori Prefecture, is a pear-growing region.

One pear orchard is located on the hills surrounding Lake Togo.

Nijusseiki pears are more popular in western Japan than in the larger Tokyo region.

Yamada Takao and Hiroko own a pear orchard at the top of a hill.

Hiroko took care of the family farm after marrying Takao, who worked an office job.

After Takao's retirement, the couple have grown pears together.

Nijusseiki pears bruise when exposed to wind and sun.

They require double bagging in spring and early summer.

I like the Nijusseiki pears' green color.
It's the king of autumn fruits.

Every pear looks different.

Growing pears is like raising
children. They are so cute.

The Nijusseiki pear is an excellent variety, but
growing them requires a lot of work and skill.

It's hard work, but it's worth it
when we get good produce.

Shipping Nijusseiki pears lasts only three weeks from August to September.

Three hundred and sixty thousand pears are gathered per day at the fruit-sorting plant.

Oh, it's so hot.

Hiroko is an old hand at growing pears, and is put in charge of grading.

Discovered at the end of the nineteenth century,

this variety was named "20th Century" in the hope that it would become the king fruit of the new century.

- Shall we pick this area?
- This one or that one looks good.

Here you are.

A big one and small one.

The sweet and tart taste shared between husband and wife transcends the centuries.

We are in Shimoshima, Amakusa Islands, in Kyushu.

At this fruit stand are some figs.

These are common figs, but here in Amakusa,

there is an old-fashioned variety that has been passed down from the days of the samurai.

It is a fig that is said to have come from Portugal.

This fig is known locally as "nanban-gaki," which means "a persimmon-like fruit from overseas."

In the latter half of the 16th century, there were Japanese boys who traveled to Rome representing Christian lords of Kyushu.

A letter written by Father Diogo de Mesquita, who led the boys, reads as follows:

"I have brought from Lisbon to Japan a seedling of good figs, of which Japan is now replete..."

Mori Toru grows old-fashioned figs that have survived until this day.

This is a Nanban-gaki fig.

My grandma called them Nanban-gaki.

They gradually disappeared
and are almost gone now.

I thought it'd be a little sad if these
figs, introduced to Amakusa, died out.

So, my hope is to keep them
going even if I am the last.

Seven years ago, Toru changed jobs from the transportation industry.

His impetus for farming was his only son, who suffers from atopy.

At first Toru also grew pesticide-free vegetables and herbs,

but after his son's symptoms subsided, he focused on Nanban-gaki figs.

Not ripe yet.

I don't know who to learn from,
as this is a different variety.

Other farmers may say it's a good
harvest, but I may have a low yield.

Toru is adamant on naturally grown Nanban-gaki figs.

He uses no pesticides or animal compost, and plants herbs for undergrowth.

This is apple mint. Its strong
smell keeps the raccoons away.

Toru harvests only when the figs are ripe.

By morning it could be
too ripe and spoilt.

Well, let's leave it until
tomorrow morning.

Nanban-gaki figs bear less fruit than the commonly sold figs.

Very few farmers grow them as their skin is thin and they spoil faster.

When ripe, the skins break
easily, just by touching them.

But the ripe ones always taste good.

As soon as they are picked, the figs are sent to the customer.

Hello.

The Okamuras are an old family that have enjoyed a lineage of over 400 years.

Toru helps them prune the trees in winter.

It's bearing fruit early this year.
But only about one-third.

- In size?
- Yes, with all the rain.

We used to have another fig tree.

My grandfather said it was a fig.

But he called this one
a 'Nanban,' not a fig.

- It's different in shape from regular figs.
- This area is purple.

- It's tastes just like ours.
- Hmm.

- It's really moist.
- Yes.

It's definitely been around
since the Edo period.

It's said to be a fig brought
to Amakusa from Europe.

The old Namban-gaki fig from the Okamura family is passed on.

Toru received some branches and planted them in his orchard.

About ten young trees have taken root.

Toru wants to cherish the history of the figs.

And someday, he'd like to see them in many fruit stores.

I'd love to see customers come to stores
to buy figs labeled as 'Nanban-gaki figs.'

I'd really like many people to
know the name Nanban-gaki.

Right now, figs in the stores have no description on them.

Toru hopes this will change soon.

Some customers wait for a special kind of food in autumn at fruit stores in Tokyo.

Next will be chestnuts.

Pears and grapes before that.

- What is a chestnut? Is it a vegetable?
- It's a fruit.

Anything that grows on a
tree is basically a fruit.

Fruit is good for the body.

Better than fried food.

See you.

Nakatsugawa in Gifu Prefecture is an old inn town along the highway connecting Tokyo and Kyoto.

It has long been known for its chestnut production.

Long-established stores and inns from the days of the samurai line the streets in this mountainous town.

This store used to sell vinegar.

This store started as a blacksmith.

Now both stores are Japanese confectioners, known for their chestnut sweets.

We've come to buy kuri-kinton.

I eat some every year, always.

It's a seasonal treat.

"Kuri-kinton" is a mashed chestnut sweets eaten in New Year's in Japan.

But in Nakatsugawa, the kuri-kinton is a little different:

the chestnut is hollowed out and sweetened, and reshaped into a chestnut.

This area has always been rich in wild chestnuts.

Until rice was introduced, chestnuts were the staple food of the ancient Japanese.

Farmers pick up chestnuts in a field where the trees are kept low for easy maintenance.

Hara Tadao sells chestnuts to Japanese confectioners every day in autumn.

We pick up all the fallen ones.

You leave them too long,
and they lose their freshness.

Chestnuts are ready to eat when they fall.

Sometimes you can get a
direct hit from the thorns.

It hurts.

This is a variety called Tanzawa,
and it's good for making kuri-kinton.

- They're ok.
- Tastes good.

This is the base for kuri-kinton.

You scoop it out, add sugar and simmer it.

We've made it like that since
the days of my granddad.

This is what we'd call kuri-kinton.

In the old days, every home made kuri-kinton, and confectioners started selling them about 150 years ago.

These are good. A nice color and sheen.

Tadao's relative Hara Zenichiro is the fourth-generation proprietor of a Japanese sweets shop, Kawakamiya.

The Tanzawa season is almost over.

They're good, large chestnuts.

Kuri-kinton, a fresh confectionery, is only available during the chestnut harvest.

Autumn is the busiest time for the town.

Today's goal for this factory is 20,000.

The kneaded chestnuts are squeezed with a tea towel, to form a chestnut shape.

Squeezing them by hand is extra
work, but it adds a human touch.

Using a towel to make the chestnut
shape gives it a rustic feel.

September 9 is the Choyo Festival in Japan which celebrates good harvests and longevity.

In Nakatsugawa, it is called the Chestnut Festival,

and confectioners gather to pray for a bountiful harvest and prosperous business.

"Kuri-kinton was very much favored."

In the town center, chestnuts are distributed to the residents,

just as roasted chestnuts were once shared with travelers on steep mountain roads.

A sweet and soft gift enjoyed only in autumn.

Is it sweet and delicious?

The town of Ujitawara, south of Kyoto, is known for its Uji green tea production.

Among the tea fields are persimmon trees.

November is the season of dried persimmons.

The local dried persimmons are rare and unique.

Shimooka Kiyotomi is the fourth-generation owner of a large tea estate.

I don't know how old these trees are. Was
the tea estate first or the persimmon tree?

Bitter persimmons grow in the tea fields.

For generations local tea farmers have made dried persimmons from these trees in their tea fields.

These particular dried persimmons are called "Koro-gaki."

Koro-gaki production starts just before the persimmons are fully ripe.

The variety is "Tsurunoko," one of the smallest in Japan.

Harvesting is done in the old-fashioned way.

Persimmons have been eaten since ancient times.

Did the farmers imitate the way how monkeys pick the fruit?

Where they can't reach, the farmers drop them with a bamboo pole.

A sheet spread over the tea field gently catches the fruit.

- Did you pick most of them?
- Yeah.

His octogenarian father is still a master at his work.

This Tsurunoko variety is only
found along the old highway

that connects the 2 ancient
capitals of Nara and Kyoto.

Some say these dried persimmons
were the first green tea sweets.

Koro-gaki is produced in autumn, when tea farming is at a standstill.

It is a source of winter income for tea farmers.

When they were covered with a white powdery crust of sugar crystals,

the dried persimmons were taken to the capital along with tea.

Dried persimmon and tea complement each other in flavor.

If it's any sweeter,
it interferes with the tea's flavor.

It's said that green tea sweets
were created in Kyoto

based on the sweetness and
hardness of dried persimmon.

Shelves called "kakiya" are set up in harvested rice fields where persimmons are peeled and dried.

The more work we put in,
the whiter they get.

The ripened persimmons are sweetened by sieving them in early winter.

When they are covered in a white crust, they are ready as the best companion for green tea.

It is Autumn, the season when grapes begin to bear fruit.

In Katsunuma, Yamanashi Prefecture, preparations begin for a ritual to honor the spirits of ancestors.

Good morning!

This 1,000-year-old ritual is known as "Torii-yaki,"

in which a bonfire is built in the shape of a "torii," a Shinto shrine gate.

Today it is part of the autumn harvest festival, which takes place in two weeks.

Students from the local Katsunuma Junior High School climb this slope to prepare wood for the Torii-yaki ritual.

At the foot of the hill, vineyards stretch as far as the eye can see.

The area has been known as a grape-growing region since ancient times.

Wrong way.

After the students finish stacking the wood, they came to visit a temple locally known as 'the grape temple.'

Daizenji Temple was founded about 1,300 years ago by the monk Gyoki.

Its enshrined deity, "Yakushi Nyorai" or Medicine Buddha, holds a bunch of grapes in its hand.

It is believed that the monk Gyoki saw the Buddha in his dream and carved the statue himself.

Inoue Tesshu is the 41st chief priest of Daizenji temple.

The mountain where the Torii-yaki is held was once the temple's territory.

We've finished preparing the wood piles, now
we have to make the Grape Festival a success.

Please climb up one step at a time,
and remove the dirt from our hearts.

Carry the torches and hope
for a bountiful grape harvest.

Legend has it that the monk Gyoki brought grapes to this area

after they were introduced from the continent together with Buddhism.

It's a Medicine Buddha holding grapes.
That's why it is called 'Grape Buddha.'

It holds grapes instead
of a medicine jar.

This thousand-armed Avalokitesvara statue holds something interesting.

It's a grape, a sign of a good harvest.

The grape trellises that stretch along the approach to the temple are a vineyard owned by Daizenji.

Tesshu, the chief priest, grows the grapes himself.

This grape is a variety called
Berry A and is for red wine.

They're a bit sweet this year.

These are Koshu grapes,
used to make Koshu wine.

This must be the grapes
the Buddha is holding.

Katsunuma, with its sandy soil, is not suitable for growing rice.

Instead, grapes grown on the hillsides have supported the lives of the locals.

Daizenji Temple makes its own wine every year.

- Pretty sweet this year.
- Yes.

The white wine they press is the oldest grape variety in Japan.

It is the same grape held by the deity of the temple.

Tesshu oversees the wine-making process.

The wine is offered to worshippers of the temple.

Thank you.

- Delicious, right?
- Very grapey.

A bold grape wine.

When the wine is made, it's time for the harvest festival.

On October 1st, selected students will carry torches to the Torii-yaki.

- We're at the front?
- The very front.

I'm nervous.

The Buddha holding the grapes and a monk growing grapes.

This is the cornerstone of the 'Grape Temple.'

With torches in hand, the students climb up the slope past the vineyards.

Good job. Well done.

The Torii-yaki burns, with gratitude for the bountiful fruit that blessed us,

and with thoughts of departed loved ones to whom we raised a glass of wine.

Fireworks in full bloom like grapes paint the night sky, adding a final touch to the festival.

Grapes usher in the autumn season at the fruit store in Tokyo.

- Which one tastes best?
- Your wife always buys one of these.

I'll take this then.

It's for my wife, naturally.

They're delicious, she loves them.

My kids love these,
so it's a souvenir for them.

I was going to eat them.

With my child.

My daughter and
granddaughter are visiting.

- Here's your change.
- Thank you.

A small bit of luxury to share with your loved ones.

Would you like to try some?

And maybe think about the land and the people who grew the fruit.

Beautiful Shine Muscats for 1,000 yen.

Another day, and another blessing of the land hails in a new season in local fruit stores.