A quick hello

Pickles guy here—Tomonori Tanaka.

Some people call me Hakko Shisho (hakko = fermentation, shisho = master).

I live in Kyoto, and I make pickles almost every day.

This blog is a record of those small daily scenes—so you can taste “time” in ordinary food.

[Image suggestion: A quiet kitchen scene / vegetables on a cutting board / daily life shot]

Hakusai (Napa Cabbage): The Vegetable That Made Me a Pickles Guy

If there’s one vegetable that keeps pulling me back to pickles, it’s napa cabbage—called hakusai in Japan.

It’s cheap, it’s huge, and it quietly teaches you what “real pickles” can be.

Napa cabbage is generous, but it’s also the easiest to waste. The outer leaves look rough, the core looks awkward, and suddenly half of it disappears into the trash. That’s the modern pattern: buy vegetables easily, then lose them slowly in the back of the fridge.

This is where pickling becomes practical, not nostalgic. One jar turns “about to wilt” into “ready to eat.”

[Image suggestion: Cutting napa cabbage / salting / pressing in a jar]

A pickling rule I trust

For napa cabbage, I keep it simple:

• Salt: 3% of the cabbage weight
• Weight: about 2× the cabbage weight (a real press matters)
• Extras: kombu (kelp) and a little chili—optional, but recommended

Cut the cabbage into bite-size pieces, salt it, and press it down. Water comes out, texture tightens, flavor starts moving. Often, it’s already good by the next day.

[Image suggestion: Pickling process close-up / water released / stone pressing]

The mistake we make

A lot of “pickles” today are vinegar pickles—or worse, something that tastes oddly sweet, oddly loud, and oddly artificial. If you grew up with that flavor, you might think you don’t like pickles.

But salt pickling is different. It’s quieter. Cleaner. The vegetable stays itself—just sharpened.

How to eat it

• Hot white rice.
• A crisp bite of napa cabbage pickle.
• A tiny touch of soy sauce.

That’s enough. No complicated menu. Just a rhythm.

[Image suggestion: Rice bowl and pickles / simple breakfast scene]

Taste, attention, and a boredom-proof life

Life keeps pushing us toward convenience. It also pushes taste toward sameness.

So it helps to pause and ask:

• Why does this taste good to me?
• Why doesn’t mayonnaise spoil easily?
• Why is a steamed bun so fluffy?
• What is that black fizzy drink actually made of?

When you bring your attention back—and investigate—stories appear inside almost everything.

That’s why I keep making pickles. Not because it’s “traditional,” but because it keeps my senses awake.

If you want to start small, start with one jar tonight. Tomorrow morning, you’ll taste the difference.

Want to keep tasting time?

• Get new posts: Subscribe to this blog for one small fermentation note at a time.
• Use the tool I use: See Picklestone (the press-pickling jar behind many of these scenes).
• Work with me: For menus, workshops, or editorial features—contact Hakko Shisho.