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.

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Hinona: The One‑Stroke Turnip That Becomes a Pickle

[Insert Photo 1: Whole *hinona*—the long, slender turnip with a red‑purple to white gradient.]

Hinona (*hino-na*) is a traditional vegetable from Shiga—said to have been eaten for around 500 years.

It’s about 30 cm long, somewhere between a turnip and daikon, and it carries a gentle bite that feels perfectly made for salt pickling.

What I love most is its shape and color. The fading gradient—red‑purple into white—looks like a single brush stroke.

Before you even taste it, it already feels like a finished piece.

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The “trick” is in the hands

Hinona is a little fibrous, so I don’t treat it like a soft vegetable. I *work* with it.

Rub it with salt until it relaxes, then coil it into the jar like a small snake.

When you press it, water rises quickly, the texture tightens, and the flavor starts moving.

[Insert Photo 2: Hinona coiled inside the jar—like a spiral / snake.]

This is why I keep coming back to press‑pickling. It’s not nostalgia. It’s physics: salt, pressure, and time.

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How I pickle it (simple, repeatable)

• Wash and trim the hinona (keep the interesting shapes).
• Rub with salt until it softens slightly.
• Add a strip of kombu if you have it.
• Press it down firmly—then let time do the work.

[Insert Photo 3: The jar after pressing—liquid rising, vegetables settling.]

By the next day, it’s already bright and crisp.

If you leave it longer, the edges round out and it gets deeper—more “quiet,” more layered.

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Fresh vs. aged: two different pleasures

When it’s young, hinona pickles taste sharp and lively.

When it’s aged for months, it becomes *hine‑zuke*—wrinkled, darker, and surprisingly beautiful. It’s the same vegetable, but time has re‑drawn it.

[Insert Photo 4: Aged *hine‑zuke*—the wrinkled texture close‑up.]

That wrinkled surface is why I sometimes think of hinona like ink painting: one stroke, then time adds shadows.

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Slicing changes the taste

With hinona, the cut matters.

Thin rounds feel crisp and clean.

Thicker pieces feel more “rooty.”

Cut lengthwise and it becomes sharper, almost spicy.

[Insert Photo 5: Three slicing styles on one plate—thin rounds / thick cuts / lengthwise.]

Try it with hot rice, or alongside a simple soup. It doesn’t need a loud menu—just a rhythm.

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Want to keep tasting time?

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• **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.