Hakko Blog Post (Shopify) — Myoga (Japanese Ginger)

Format: Shopify blog post (EN) + photo insert suggestions

Tone: B (standard) with ~5% friendliness

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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.

Myoga (Japanese Ginger): The Aromatic Bud with a Forgetful Legend

[INSERT PHOTO 1: Fresh myoga buds in a bowl / on a cutting board. Make it feel crisp and alive.]

Myoga is one of those ingredients that feels like a secret even in Japan. It’s not a “main vegetable,” and it’s not a strong spice either. It’s a fragrant bud—cool, sharp, and floral—that turns ordinary food into something awake.

[INSERT PHOTO 2: A sliced myoga cross-section (close-up). Show the pale layers and the pink edge.]

The funny part: there’s an old Japanese superstition that if you eat too much myoga, you’ll become forgetful. The story goes back to a Buddhist disciple named Myoga—so devoted he forgot his own name. Is it true? I have no scientific proof. But it’s a perfect myth for an ingredient that disappears fast: you chop it, it perfumes the room, and then it’s gone.

Shibazuke: a pickle that becomes magenta overnight

Myoga’s best friend is shibazuke—a Kyoto-style mixed vegetable pickle. It’s the kind of preserved food that doesn’t try to hide what it is: vegetables + salt + time. And it changes color in a way that feels like a small magic trick.

[INSERT PHOTO 3: Ingredients for shibazuke laid out: eggplant, cucumber, myoga, ginger, salt, and red ume vinegar (or a red ume vinegar bottle).]

A pickling rule I trust (for this mix)

Keep the logic simple, then let time do the work:

• Salt: about 3% of the total vegetable weight

• Color + aroma: a splash of red ume vinegar (and/or red shiso if you have it)

• Press: a real weight matters—this is where texture and speed come from

One basic combination I like:

• Eggplant

• Cucumber

• Myoga

• Ginger

• Red ume vinegar

Slice everything into bite-size pieces, salt, add the vinegar, then press it firmly. Water comes out, the vegetables settle, and the flavor starts moving. By the next day, the whole jar turns into that bright, deep magenta—proof that time is already working.

[INSERT PHOTO 4: Picklestone jar packed and pressed (before). Optional: a second shot of the same jar the next day (after), showing the color shift.]

How I eat it (my favorite Kyoto rhythm)

Shibazuke is strong enough to carry a whole meal with almost nothing else. Hot rice is the obvious move. But there’s one pairing that made me stop and stare the first time I tried it: shime-saba (cured mackerel) with shibazuke, wrapped in nori.

[INSERT PHOTO 5: A small plate with shime-saba + shibazuke + nori (an “iso-maki” style bite).]

In Kyoto, you’ll sometimes see a simple “iso-maki” bite like this at sushi shops—a small roll that tastes like the ocean and the garden at the same time. The fish gives you depth, the pickle gives you lift, and the nori ties it together. It’s salty, bright, and strangely clean.

Why I keep coming back to myoga

Myoga is seasonal, delicate, and slightly inconvenient. Which is exactly why it’s useful. It forces attention. It rewards small effort. And it reminds me that preserved food isn’t nostalgia—it’s a way to keep your senses sharp in a world that keeps flattening taste.

One more small story: when design helps pickles travel

An American food writer once tried making shibazuke using Picklestone and described the result as “magenta pickles.” I loved that phrase. It’s the same jar logic, the same fermentation logic—just landing in a different kitchen, in a different language.

[INSERT PHOTO 6 (optional): A bowl of finished shibazuke glowing magenta next to rice, with chopsticks entering frame.]

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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.