Ringetsu

Edible chrysanthemum is a traditional ingredient that has been cultivated since the Edo period and has been enjoyed as food. The chrysanthemum in the image is a variety of large chrysanthemum, with the purple ones produced in Niigata Prefecture and the yellow ones in Yamagata Prefecture. These two prefectures, along with Aomori Prefecture, account for almost all of the national production of large chrysanthemums. Edible chrysanthemums have common names in addition to their variety names; in Niigata, they are called 'Kakinomoto,' and in Yamagata, they are referred to as 'Mottanohoka.' 'Kakinomoto' is derived from the fact that they were planted at the base of hedges or persimmon trees, while 'Mottanohoka' is said to originate from the anecdote that eating the chrysanthemum flower, which is the imperial family crest, is 'unthinkable.' The preparation is very simple. Remove the strongly bitter calyx and keep only the petals. Briefly blanch in hot water with a small amount of vinegar, then rinse in cold water and squeeze out the excess moisture. In cooking, they are used in dishes such as ohitashi, salads, and vinegared dishes. While cooking can diminish their aroma, they can be enjoyed raw for their fragrance. When you add chrysanthemums to boiling water, a refreshing aroma rises instantly, refreshing your mood. After blanching, when you take a small amount to taste while rinsing in water, the small petals overlap, causing a unique sensation of 'mugyugyu' with each bite. Repeatedly experiencing this sensation can evoke scenes of stepping on fresh snow or walking barefoot on rounded pebbles laid out in a shrine courtyard, enjoying the sounds and textures while gripping the stones with your toes. At those moments, I always feel a fresh sensation as if my mind and body have been cleansed. Upon reflection, the sensations gained from these experiences are quite similar to the freshness felt when a person encounters new experiences. Chewing chrysanthemum, stepping on fresh snow, walking on pebbles, and having new experiences—all contain a coexistence of certainty and uncertainty. I have had a question for a long time: despite the many colors of ornamental chrysanthemums, why are edible chrysanthemums primarily yellow and purple? Even if green varieties are unnecessary during the season of leafy vegetables, white or red would be useful in cooking and should not feel out of place once accustomed. Upon researching this, I learned a scientifically proven fact: yellow and purple are the colors with the lowest resolution for the human eye.

I will supplement the scientific research content below. - Yellow is difficult to differentiate between L cones (red) and M cones (green), making the outline ambiguous. - Purple is a mixed perception of S cones (blue) + L cones (red), and the spatial resolution of S cones is low. Furthermore, 1) The central part of the visual field has high resolution and is clearly visible, but as you approach the periphery, the resolution decreases. 2) The human brain unconsciously fills in the gaps in areas with lower resolution. Considering these facts, I have come to think that yellow and purple are colors that easily invite people to engage in imaginative activities unconsciously. The fact that I recalled past experiences while tasting edible chrysanthemum may have been influenced by this. The sensations gained from the dishes and ingredients introduced in this column all share a common point of 'some information is lacking.' Examples include first-time dishes and lightly flavored dishes. When people have little information, they unconsciously fill in the gaps with memories accumulated over time—I remember hearing such a story somewhere. Taking this into account and merging scientific facts with psychological interpretations, as we approach winter and spend time in a monochromatic world of white and black, I believe that yellow and purple serve as 'colors of imagination' for those in northern regions, adding color to a daily life that only repeats brightness and darkness. People involved with edible chrysanthemum since the Edo period may have perceived the combination of the chrysanthemum's color, aroma, and texture as a single 'taste.' At the very least, if we focus on the characteristics of chrysanthemum and take the time to savor it, we can unconsciously weave our own unique stories. The stories spun by the 'sixth sense = the function of imagination' may be a 'taste' that rivals or surpasses saltiness, sweetness, sourness, bitterness, and umami.

Ishigaki Tofu is a type of dish derived from egg tofu. The separated fish roe is likened to sand or soil, and the diced nagaimo is likened to stones, giving the dish its name as it resembles a stone wall. The ingredients can be changed according to the season. The separated fish roe and vegetables are combined with an equal amount of sake and dashi, a pinch of salt for flavor, and a touch of sugar to soften the tension, along with bonito flakes to add a festive touch, and then simmered. After that, it is made in the same way as egg tofu. I learned this dish from the head chef at the ryotei where I trained. The head chef frequently created dishes that were not on the menu whenever he had a moment to spare. I would finish my preparations as quickly as possible to learn such new dishes. At that time, I used sea bream roe and taro instead of the ingredients shown in the image. As I followed the head chef's instructions to make this dish, I felt overwhelmed by the numerous steps compared to regular egg tofu. This was partly because the head chef did not explain the overall picture of the dish, only giving sequential instructions. Therefore, while making it, I did not understand what I was creating. However, I remember that many head chefs had this style back then. I tend to prefer to understand the overall picture and goals before proceeding, so I found it very difficult to focus solely on the instructed tasks and work blindly. However, once I completed it and plated each serving, I felt a great sense of accomplishment. The pale pink sea bream roe settled at the bottom of the egg tofu, overlapping with the upright cross-section of the stacked taro. The soft, feather-like color of the egg base enveloped them, contrasting with the sharp edges. It was solid and intricate, truly a 'wall' built up and layered. Unable to express this impression in words, I asked the head chef for the name of the dish. He quietly and firmly replied, 'Rock Flow of Baby Sea Bream and Taro.' At that moment, the scene before me suddenly brightened, and I vividly remember the image of lava flowing and rocks rolling down from the castle walls for defense. And with the knowledge that I had learned such a complex dish with a strong impression, I felt as if my future was expanding.

When the head chef tasted a small piece cut for sampling, the vibrant aroma of bonito flakes and sake instantly brightened the visual clarity, and the sweetness and soft texture of the egg base slowly relaxed the tension throughout the body. The sticky texture of the taro and the lively movement of the sea bream roe breaking apart in the mouth made me feel as if things were expanding in a positive direction. Later, I learned from several specialized cookbooks that the name of this dish is 'Ishigaki Tofu', but initially, I felt it was a bit lacking and explained it as 'Ganseki Nagashi' for a while after opening my own restaurant. However, as I became accustomed to managing the restaurant, relaxed my tension, and gradually developed the ability to view things objectively, I began to feel that the name 'Ishigaki' truly suited it. Kaiseki and kaiseki cuisine often feature complex dishes, many of which may be tasted for the first time. If it is a well-known dish, it is easy to express the flavor through comparison, but with a dish tasted for the first time, that is not possible. Even if one wishes to have an impression, they may only feel confused. However, precisely because it cannot be compared, the sensitivity to observe the body's reactions in order to articulate impressions sharpens. By observing the body's reactions objectively or reinterpreting those reactions subjectively, one becomes able to put them into words. And those reactions vary from person to person. During my training days, I struggled to find the words, but I strongly resonated with the chef's expression 'Ganseki Nagashi'. As an apprentice, I was seeking strength and certainty above all. I believe that the chef and I were not seeing the same scenery, but I think there were many overlapping aspects. This Ishigaki Tofu is also a memorable dish that was adopted as a starter by my mentor when I made it as a practice dish using saury roe while training at a kaiseki restaurant in later years. Therefore, at our restaurant, we use the roe of seasonal fish and prepare it several times a year. If you visit us a few times, you may see it eventually. When you see and taste this dish, what kind of reactions will arise in your body? And what kind of scenery will emerge in your heart as a result of those reactions? I hope you can quietly enjoy the small story that resides in that moment when sensation and memory are intertwined.

The sea bream used is not the fillet typically used for sashimi or grilled dishes, but rather the scraps (meat around the bones). In many cases, this part is discarded. In simple cooking terms, it becomes a firm egg tofu mixed with the scraped meat from the fish scraps and leftover vegetables. The method involves finely grinding the scraped meat from the scraps in a mortar, adding eggs and dashi, and mixing until smooth. Seasoning is added, and preferred leftover vegetables are mixed in, then poured into a steaming can and steamed. Next, the surface of the steamed egg tofu is brushed with egg yolk and grilled carefully to avoid overcooking. Since the egg yolk tends to burn easily, this brushing and grilling process is repeated several times. Each time, the layer of egg yolk thickens, and the colors of the sea bream meat and leftover vegetables become obscured. This process resembles candle making, which is why this cooking method is called 'wax grilling.' When the bright yellow of the egg yolk is layered thickly, mirin is brushed on at the end to give it a shine. The fukusa used to wrap condolence money is essentially something that wraps important feelings or sentiments. This dish similarly wraps the scraps and seasonal leftover vegetables in the fukusa of eggs and dashi. I feel that it essentially wraps the sentiment of 'mottainai' (a sense of wastefulness). It is difficult to gauge the feelings or sentiments of the person who created this dish and named it long ago, but I believe there was something they wanted to pass on across time and space. Just as patterns or embroidery are applied to a fukusa, the egg yolk is layered repeatedly to create a vibrant shine, perhaps to convey that 'something precious is wrapped here.'

When serving this amber egg during the time when summer nights become somewhat more comfortable, it is called 'Moon Viewing Egg' as it resembles the full moon of the Mid-Autumn Festival, reflecting the beauty of autumn on the dining table. The rich flavor, the spherical shape representing perfection and reincarnation, and the lingering elegance of the eternal amber color evoke a sense of depth, as if one is spending a long autumn night of abundance.

Boil the quail eggs together with the fruit of the gardenia to dye them a deep yellow. Create a miso bed using white miso, Nara pickled miso, sake, and mirin, and soak the eggs in it. Shape the dashi kelp into a calyx and cut dried kelp into thin strips to resemble branches. During my training days, I would go once a week to gather seasonal leaves for cooking. In December, the leaves would be persimmon leaves. By mid-month, most of the leaves have fallen. When viewed from a distance on a cloudy day, the gray-brown trunk can appear dark. Its painful appearance reminds me of the anxiety and impatience towards the seemingly endless training, creating a chilling draft in my heart. The persimmon tree, scattered with vibrant leaves, looks lonely and desolate, but when viewed differently, it sometimes seems to be breaking through the earth with a strong outstretched palm, trying to grasp something. I felt a memory of having seen this 'certain' feeling, this 'unwavering' impression somewhere. Years later, while comparing kelp dashi and bonito dashi, I finally found the answer to this. I realized that this impression surprisingly overlaps with the impression I felt from the kelp. When I open the bag, the strong aroma of bonito flakes overwhelms me, but the memory of that sensation is faint, and bonito dashi itself has the characteristic of deteriorating quickly. In contrast, the taste and aroma of kelp feel leisurely and unreliable as they appear, but they last longer. In the long term, I was made aware that kelp dashi is 'certain.' Making this dish reminds me that this small dish, not even a single bite, evokes a perspective of looking at things in the long run, especially as the mountains begin to sleep and the cold seeps into the bones.

The method of making it involves kneading 1 part strained warabi, 1 part kuzu starch, 5 parts kombu dashi, 1 part sake, a pinch of salt, and sugar to taste. It is shaped into a ball, wrapped, tied, and chilled in ice water. It is served not as a water dish but in a small bowl called hassun, drizzled with a flavorful vinegar based on kombu dashi. In June, red warabi begins to arrive from Uonuma. Red warabi refers to the reddish-black or reddish-brown warabi in its raw state, harvested in the deep mountains with little sunlight. On the other hand, the green warabi that has been arriving since early May is collected at the foot of the mountains where the sunlight is strong, marking the end of the season. Therefore, one can easily imagine farmers foraging for wild vegetables deep in the mountains. This red warabi is placed in a container, sprinkled with rice straw ash, hot water is poured in, sealed, and left for about four hours. Each piece may vary in color, but according to its original color, it transforms into metallic, lustrous shades such as greenish-blue, reddish-purple, and blue-purple. This colored warabi is blended in a mixer and strained for use. The difference in taste and flavor compared to the typical warabi mochi made with potato starch or warabi starch is very subtle, but I believe a faint bitterness can be pleasantly felt. Additionally, the color becomes a bluish-green like in the image. This bluish-green seems to reflect the mountainous scenery seen by the people living in the satoyama during this season of the rainy season. Why do I have such associations? Every time I see this red warabi resembling kuzu tofu emitting a 'wet light', a faint question seems to accumulate in my heart. Our garden is similar to this. As the fresh green season passes, various trees stretch their branches and lush green leaves, evoking the image of a deep forest. When it rains, the greens of the leaves and moss feel particularly deep. Then, when the sunlight after the rain filters through the trees covering the sky and shines on the moss wet with raindrops, it reflects the wet light like this red warabi kuzu tofu. When I see something emitting wet light, it is hard to focus at first glance. This is likely because the contours of the subject are not easily captured. However, I now feel that this slight 'gap' creates room for human imagination to expand. Transparent kuzu tofu, jelly, simmered dishes, fresh creations. Or amber, wet eyes, the paint of an SL, goldfish in an aquarium, the art style of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, and the forest after the rain. All of these evoke a sense of moisture and seem to quench an insatiable thirst for time.

Corn tofu is one of the dishes derived from sesame tofu. There are many other derivative dishes as well. For example, peanut tofu, black sesame tofu, and walnut tofu are commonly seen in retail stores. Furthermore, a specialized cookbook from 30 years ago introduced tofu made with asparagus, tomatoes, green peas, broad beans, fish milt, and edamame, showcasing a wide variety. In our restaurant, we also offer tofu with our unique arrangements in addition to these. For instance, we use butternut squash and new potatoes, combining milk and fresh cream with dashi made from shellfish and shrimp instead of kelp dashi, creatively using ingredients and cooking methods. When looking at these derivative dishes over time, a trend emerges where ingredients with stronger flavors are gradually used. Corn tofu, compared to sesame tofu, has a clearer and more approachable taste. Additionally, by frying it, the fat enhances the flavor and prolongs the aftertaste. In other words, it shifts towards a taste that everyone finds 'delicious.' How to make it: First, boil the corn, remove the kernels with a knife, and pass it through a sieve to make a paste. Next, prepare dashi with the core and kelp, dissolve kudzu in the cooled dashi, add the paste, and knead it. The seasoning consists of a small amount of salt and a few drops of light soy sauce. Pour the kneaded tofu into a mold, let it cool, cut it into pieces, dust with potato starch, and fry it. The grilled dashi should be about half the concentration of tempura dipping sauce. If you want a bit more richness, there are recipes that add a small amount of ground sesame to the tofu. Taste memories and emotions: Currently, there is a trend towards stronger seasoning in the dishes around us, so I cannot say how you might feel about it. However, I first made and tasted this corn tofu about 20 years ago. At that time, I was so moved that I was convinced, 'This is definitely it!' I was the head chef at my workplace then, serving small pieces of corn tofu as a 300 yen appetizer. There were customers who came back for seconds, finishing an entire tray. The challenge of sieving: However, this corn tofu is a very labor-intensive dish for the maker. You might imagine that when corn is blended into a paste, the fibers mix in and the texture becomes unpleasant.

Furthermore, when there is a lot of fiber, the sweetness diminishes. Therefore, to maximize the sweetness ratio, thorough straining is necessary. This is also why the core is used when making dashi. This straining process is frequently done in the steamed bun dishes and processed food dishes we serve, but it is the most labor-intensive among them. It requires more strength than finely textured lily bulbs, and it takes about 2 hours to strain 20 ears of corn. The process is simple but requires strong force. Place the corn on the straining mesh and, using a spatula, twist while applying strength with your back, shoulders, arms, and wrists, either pulling or pushing as you twist. This action is repeated mindlessly. It feels like a time of ascetic practice rather than meditation. In an environment where you do not have to be aware of the external surroundings, you block out the thoughts, emotions, and sensations that arise from within yourself and continue to focus solely on what is in front of you. It is truly a time of facing 'now, here.' Sweetness and the lingering of emotions Sweetness alleviates human tension. While engaging in this mindless work, the unconscious thought crosses my mind that 'the energy I pour in relaxes people in proportion,' creating a strange feeling. I am reminded that we are engaging in delicate exchanges of sensations, and I realize that we usually exchange such subtle sensations collectively. Corn contains multiple sweet substances, such as fructose, which is sweeter than sucrose (granulated sugar or white sugar), and conversely, maltose and glucose, which are weaker. This diverse sweetness creates a rhythm of flavor that rushes up steep slopes and slowly descends gentle foothills. This is due to the nature of nerves, which perceive strong stimuli quickly and briefly, while weak stimuli are felt slowly and for a longer duration. Furthermore, research suggests that emotions move in the opposite direction of nerve activity. In other words, strong emotions have a long aftertaste, while weak emotions have a short aftertaste. I believe that corn tofu, with its diverse sweetness, brings about strong emotions and long sensory aftertastes. Additionally, it is interesting to note that within the corn tofu, there remains a subtle sweetness that rivals sesame tofu. In recent years, summers have been prolonged. If this corn tofu can bring even a little effective relaxation to the minds and bodies of those who have maintained tension, it would be a great joy.

How to make the broth. Put equal amounts of sake and water in a pot (enough to submerge the clams), then add kombu and clams and bring to a boil. When the clams open, remove them. Strain the remaining liquid (clam broth) in the pot after removing any scum, and add it to the combined dashi of bonito and kombu. Season with a few drops of light soy sauce and an appropriate amount of salt. A point to note is that if the clam broth is too strong, it may taste bitter, so it is necessary to adjust the amount added to the combined dashi. The cause of the clam's bitterness is likely due to umami component called succinic acid. The taste of succinic acid is umami derived from sourness and bitterness. When tasting commercial umami seasoning directly, it can taste harsh and unpleasant, causing the tongue to naturally contract, suggesting that there is a concentration at which umami is perceived as delicious. Compared to the astringent effect experienced when tasting powdered umami seasoning primarily made of glutamic acid, the astringent effect from succinic acid extracted in sake and water is characterized by its strong intensity but short duration. By the way, as a basic property of nerves, prolonged stimulation excites with a weaker stimulus compared to short-term stimulation. This is represented by the strength-duration curve. Clams are in season in spring. Therefore, this dish is often served at farewell and welcome parties, retirement celebrations, and graduation ceremonies. When I see such events, I can't help but reflect on my past, recalling the cold days with snow still lingering, practicing for graduation ceremonies day after day. The absence of close seniors. The fact that they, who seem so big now, are embarking on a journey to a larger world. Thinking about this makes the gymnasium scene appear dark and blurred, while my body feels constricted, and my heart seems to rise starkly white. My eyes capture the shadow of the scenery, my skin senses the premonition of goosebumps, my nose and mouth feel a thirst for change, and my ears pick up the vibrations echoing in the gymnasium, conveying a sense of solemnity, sadness, and loneliness. After finishing practice, seeing the sunlight streaming in from the exit brings a sense of release into reality and relief. The entrance and exit of the gymnasium seem like a gateway to a different world, and while I feel a sense of guilt for the pleasant times and places, I eventually find myself pushed along by the bustling crowd. And there is a fear of losing the subtle information conveyed by my senses, or the ability to read that information, amidst the throng of people.

sensation without a sense of reality

We carefully rehydrate the thick dried fern shoots that have arrived from Kita-Uonuma in Niigata Prefecture. They are soaked in water overnight to plump up, then boiled for a full day. After that, they are soaked in water overnight to remove any off-flavors, wrapped in fried tofu, and tied with dried gourd. Next, we use plenty of broth and add more bonito flakes, cooking it for another full day. The seasoning consists only of light soy sauce and sugar, but it is a traditional dish where the rich aroma and umami of the bonito flakes can be felt. First, fern shoots are one of the wild vegetables harvested in spring. While many wild vegetables are shipped in their raw state, fern shoots are processed products. They must be dried in the sun once, and the dried fern shoots need to be kneaded by hand to soften them. These tasks are performed by farmers. We use these dried fern shoots and take our time to cook them. Next, I will explain the origin of Shin-Tani Braised Fern, which is derived from the legend of the vine leaves associated with Shin-Tani Mountain in Osaka. For about 1000 years, the legend of the vine leaves has been passed down, set in the forest of Shin-Tani in Osaka. Abe no Yasuna saves a white fox that was being chased by hunters. Later, he is cared for by a woman who calls herself Kuzunoha, and they eventually fall in love and have a child named Dojimaru. However, when Dojimaru is five years old, it is revealed that his mother, Kuzunoha, is actually a white fox, and she disappears. At the time of their parting, she left a poem on the shoji screen that reads, 'If you long for me, come and visit the forest of Shin-Tani in Izumi, where the vine leaves of resentment grow.' Later, Dojimaru becomes Abe no Seimei and leaves his name as an onmyoji (a practitioner of Japanese esoteric cosmology). This story has been passed down through joruri (a form of Japanese puppet theater), kabuki, and cuisine, known as Shin-Tani Udon, Shin-Tani Sushi, and Shin-Tani Braised Fern. In terms of cuisine, dishes that use fried tofu may bear the name Shin-Tani, in reference to the legend of Kuzunoha from Shin-Tani Mountain, as it is said that fried tofu is a favorite food of foxes. The taste, flavor, and shape express the bitterness of the fern shoots, representing the bitter experience of being chased by hunters and the separation from family, while the sweetness of sugar and the umami of bonito flakes represent the happy family life. The indelible bitter experience is enveloped in familial love, and the shape of the dish conveys various sensations from this story to the present day. Although opportunities to see this dish have decreased, we continue to make it without sparing effort during the season from late spring to early summer when dried fern shoots are available.

The name originates from Mineoka Farm, which is considered the birthplace of dairy farming. In Japanese cuisine, dishes that use milk are often associated with the characters Mineoka or Mineoka. The ingredients used are milk, fresh cream, a small amount of cooking sake, salt, and light soy sauce, as well as kuzu starch. It can be understood as a pattern where milk is used instead of the kombu dashi and sesame in sesame tofu. The method of preparation is similar to that of sesame tofu, but the kneading time differs. It takes about three times longer to knead, resulting in a chewy, rich, and creamy texture. However, compared to sesame tofu, the flavor is lighter, which I imagine gives it a more defined texture. Additionally, because of this, it is a dish that has a dual nature, serving as both an appetizer and a dessert. In the past, milk was said to be good for the body, but recently it has been noted that adults have difficulty digesting it due to a decrease in tolerance to lactose as they age. This is known as lactose intolerance, and it is said that the rate among Japanese people is about 85%. This reflects the relationship between milk and Japanese people. On the other hand, it seems that there is little research on the correlation, so I would like to document my personal research results and provide a new perspective on enjoying food. However, since this is personal research, I cannot guarantee results, and I believe that the number of people who can apply these findings practically is limited. In the past, I often had an upset stomach after drinking milk. As a child, I drank it to grow taller, and after opening a store, I felt it was a waste to let near-expiration products go to waste, and I drank it for its nutritional value, but I often ended up with an upset stomach. Additionally, the habit of drinking cold milk quickly, due to its smell, may have also influenced this. One day, I casually wondered what would happen if I calmed my mind and savored it slowly, and as a result of changing my awareness and drinking method, I realized I no longer had an upset stomach. Since then, I have started to think about the reasons why I no longer get an upset stomach from milk, leading me to the following hypothesis. In essence, eating and drinking need to enhance digestion and absorption by increasing the activity of the parasympathetic nervous system. The parasympathetic nervous system responds to the internal environment, so I thought it was important to avoid the heightened brain activity and skeletal muscle use associated with sympathetic nervous system activation and to calm the mind to activate its function. From this perspective, I will specifically look at the following two aspects.

First aspect: Improvement of digestive function. It is believed that by calming the mind and savoring slowly, the parasympathetic nervous system is enhanced, increasing blood flow to the stomach and intestines. This change may allow for the digestion of milk, which is typically difficult to digest, to a degree that does not upset the stomach due to improved gastrointestinal function. ~Contrasting past behavior~ On the other hand, in the past, I would chant my wishes like a spell to achieve my goals, gulping down milk and breathing heavily. I think this behavior weakened the activity of my gastrointestinal system due to the coldness and heightened the function of the sympathetic nervous system. I felt a concentration of blood in my head and heart-lungs, and in this state, I believe I was creating conditions unfavorable for digestion and absorption. ~Revisiting the correlation between myself and milk~ Traditionally, it is said that adult Japanese people find it difficult to digest and absorb milk. I can also say that I unconsciously created a state where digestion and absorption were difficult. However, by reevaluating my relationship with milk, I think I found a way to assist digestion, even though I cannot be confident about nutrient absorption. ~Changes in consciousness and harmony of the internal environment~ External information such as "nutritious," "expensive," and "can make you energetic" directs consciousness outward and encourages the selection of dishes based on social evaluation criteria. This increases the function of the sympathetic nervous system and triggers the "fight or flight response." Conversely, enjoying the changes in organs and sensations felt when tasting food is an act of perceiving the internal environment. There may be people who find that change interesting. Reflecting on my experience, drinking milk felt like a battle. Specifically, I can say that I was consciously fighting in my head while my body was unconsciously fleeing. It often takes a long time to deeply recognize something that lacks real feeling, but recalling experiences is easy and felt quite absurd. After all, I have been taught to "eat slowly" and "eat calmly" since childhood. Accepting this absurdity took a long time. In my case, I think it was because I had a strong sense of purpose, leading to a significant gap, or a large relativity. However, through such a process, I felt that small adventures gained by focusing not only on the external environment but also on my internal environment are also good.

Goma candy is not a dish that is very familiar to many. I myself have not seen it in stores or books outside of the traditional inn where I trained, and I do not know who invented it or when. The method of making it involves mixing 5 parts water, 1 part kudzu, 1 part caramel, and 1 part sesame paste in a pot, heating it, and stirring until it reaches the desired consistency, then pouring it into a mold to cool. It is served with black syrup on top. The method is somewhat similar to making sesame tofu, but it differs in that caramel is added to the ingredients and black syrup is used instead of soy sauce. Similar dishes that come to mind include sesame pudding, sesame yokan, sesame mochi, and sesame dumplings. The deliciousness of this goma candy lies in the sweetness of the black syrup layered over the subtle acidity of the caramel, combined with the gentle nuttiness and bitterness of the sesame, enhanced by the strong roasted flavor and bitterness of the caramel, creating depth. The unique elasticity and stickiness of kudzu contribute to a long-lasting and robust flavor. I really like this dish, and aside from recent times, it was served at the restaurant when it first opened. However, it was only served once because, for some reason, it was returned about one in three or four times. Therefore, I thought that Western sweets or visually stunning desserts would be preferred, and I did not make the simple-looking goma candy for a long time. Recently, I started making it again because I have become able to explain the goodness of this dish in my own words. Flavor has aspects that can be felt not just as a 'type of taste' but also as a 'movement' that arises in the tongue and body. When we reinterpret that movement as a vector (direction and strength), the nature of bitterness and sweetness can be understood more three-dimensionally. In other words, it is about understanding flavors, which are generally perceived as static properties, in a dynamic structure. For example, after drinking strongly bitter coffee, the sensation of the tongue continuing to move unconsciously due to tension can be perceived as a 'spiral' movement. Additionally, sweetness can be reinterpreted as a 'left-right' movement because, after eating something sweet, the sides of the tongue relax and spread out.

Physiologically, the simultaneous existence of different reactions such as tension and relaxation, as well as movements with different directions like spiral and lateral, can be felt as a 'contradiction.' I believe this makes understanding this dish difficult, unlike typical desserts composed of strong sweetness and weak acidity. However, this contradiction also exists in our daily lives. For example, when you perform well in your event at a sports day, but the final team result is disappointing, joy and happiness coexist with frustration and disappointment in your heart. The reverse can also happen. In any case, there exists a state where tension and relaxation, as well as the direction of consciousness and bodily movements, coexist, and you should feel a numbness in your head and body. You may find it hard to move your limbs, feel as if your body does not belong to you, or have difficulty hearing; this numbness varies in location and intensity. While more specific descriptions are possible for each, I think they can be summarized in a higher level of abstraction with the single word 'numbness.' Even during the closing ceremony of the sports day, on the way home, or when it became a topic in class a few days later, that contradiction likely continued to linger in your heart. No matter how much you think about how to sort out your feelings, you cannot understand it. And even if you worry about it, it does not resolve. That 'time spent thinking and worrying' is what I feel makes this dish delicious, and it is also a time to savor the 'beauty of lingering emotions' that accompanies human activities. I am also considering serving this dish again during the long nights of the season. At that time, I hope you will enjoy the numb scenery that emerges from the dynamic structure of this dish. 'Time spent thinking and worrying.' The scenery that can be seen after exhausting energy in this time. I believe you will find beauty in the scenery seen from that 'empty self.'