Post harihari

Harihari-zuke: The Crunchy Pickle That Survives the Microwave

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.

Harihari-zuke: The Crunchy Pickle That Survives the Microwave

Sometimes I don’t want pickles as a “side.” I want them as a texture—something that snaps and wakes your mouth up.

In Japan there’s a pickle called harihari-zuke. Hari-hari is basically the sound your teeth make when something is properly crunchy. (Yes, we name foods after sound sometimes. It’s one of my favorite habits.)

The secret is simple: this pickle starts as dried daikon strips—wari-boshi daikon (split dried daikon). Because it’s dried once, it refuses to turn soft later. You can even warm it in the microwave and it still keeps its bite. That’s rare, and weirdly comforting.

What you need (the lazy version)

  • Wari-boshi daikon (dried daikon strips)
  • Soy sauce
  • Mirin (or a little sugar + water if you don’t have mirin)
  • Sugar (optional—adjust to taste)
  • Chili (I like a little heat)
  • Optional: kombu (kelp)

No romance here—this is pantry engineering.

The method I actually use

  1. Soak the dried daikon in water until it bends easily.
  2. Squeeze lightly—don’t over-drain it.
  3. Marinate in a simple soy + mirin + a touch of sugar mixture, plus chili (and kombu if you want).
  4. Let it sit for a few hours to overnight.

After that, it keeps well in the fridge for about a week to 10 days. Which means: one small action tonight, several calm meals later—a tiny savings account of time.

Why dried daikon tastes unexpectedly sweet

If you’ve only had fresh daikon, this part feels like a magic trick.

Old, firm daikon—especially the kind that’s spicy and fibrous—can taste sharp when raw. But once you dry it, something flips. When you rehydrate it, the aroma turns rounder, almost like squash. It’s still daikon, but it’s daikon with time layered into it.

That’s the point of preserved food: not “stopping” time, but changing its direction.

Where it shines

  • Bento: it survives hours and stays crunchy.
  • Hot rice: one bite and the whole bowl wakes up.
  • Busy nights: it counts as a vegetable without forcing you into a full cooking mood.

And honestly—if you’re the type who ends up eating something random at midnight (me too), having a jar like this in the fridge changes the next choice a little. Not with discipline. Just with availability.

Photo placement notes (for your layout)

  • Hero / top image: Finished harihari-zuke in a small bowl (close-up texture).
  • Mid image 1: Wari-boshi daikon (dry) in your hand / on a tray.
  • Mid image 2: Soaking step (daikon in water, or squeezed in a colander).
  • Mid image 3: Marinating in a jar/container (liquid + chili + kombu visible).
  • Optional: Bento or rice bowl scene with the pickle on the side.

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.
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