Post akakabu
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.
Akakabu-zuke (Red Turnip Pickles): The Color That Moves Through Time
[IMAGE 1: Hero image—Akakabu-zuke (red turnip pickles), pink brine visible.]
In Japan, I often build a plate like a small landscape: one main dish, a bowl of rice, a soup—and a few little “edges” that keep the whole thing alive.
Those edges are usually vegetables. And when I’m thinking about vegetables, I’m often thinking about color.
Red ingredients are especially useful. Tomatoes are known for lycopene, peppers and red turnips are often rich in vitamin C, and beets, red cabbage, and shiso carry anthocyanins. Beyond nutrition, red simply wakes up a plate—especially next to something brown and deep like curry.
That’s why I keep a red pickle around.
Why red pickles matter (especially on curry days)
When I’m testing curry, I’ll eat it for days in a row. (Yes—my body complains too.)
On those days, a small side dish does a surprising job: it gives you a “reset” bite, a different texture, and a bit of brightness that keeps your appetite from feeling heavy.
Red turnip pickles do that perfectly.
[IMAGE 2: Curry day plate—curry + rice + a small side dish of akakabu.]
Akakabu teaches you what pickling can do
Akakabu is a red turnip. If you cut it, you’ll see white and red in the flesh.
What’s fun is watching the color change after you pickle it. The red pigment travels. The longer it sits, the more the whole piece turns a gentle pink—like time moving through food.
There’s a style of akakabu pickle in Niigata where the turnip is cut into big quarters, kept almost raw-looking, and still tastes strangely “clean.” The size makes it feel bold, but the flavor stays calm.
[IMAGE 3: Close-up of cut akakabu showing the white/red contrast.]
A vinegar-pickle method that keeps the color beautiful
For akakabu, I like vinegar pickling. It protects the red tone and makes the kitchen feel bright.
Here’s the method I rely on:
1) Cut big. Quarter the turnips (or cut into thick wedges).
2) Salt hard, then wait. Salt generously and leave it until it softens and releases water.
3) Rinse lightly. Once it’s soft, quickly rinse off excess salt and drain well.
4) Soak in sweet vinegar. Submerge the turnips in a sweet vinegar brine (vinegar + water about 1:1, sweetened to taste, with a small pinch of salt).
5) Let time finish it. Leave it for about a week. The color will spread and the flavor will round out.
[IMAGE 4: Jar-in-fridge shot (realistic daily scene).]
How to eat it
Honestly: it goes with almost anything—curry, rice and grilled fish, noodles, even a sandwich when you want one sharp, clean bite.
And here’s the quiet benefit: when you have one jar like this in the fridge, you stop feeling like every meal needs to be “a full production.” You just need one good contrast.
Taste stays awake when you give it questions
Pickling isn’t only about preservation. It’s a way to keep your senses from going dull.
Why did the color move? Why did the texture tighten? Why does this sweet-sour bite make the whole plate feel lighter?
When you ask questions like that, ordinary food stops being boring. It becomes a small experiment you can repeat—whenever you need your day to feel more intentional.
Make one jar, leave it for a week, and watch the pink spread.
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.