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 counter shot—lotus root slices + a small bowl of red umezu / or a simple morning prep scene]

Renkon (Lotus Root): The Root That Teaches You About Color

If you’ve ever cut lotus root and watched it turn gray, you’ve seen how fast a vegetable reacts to air.

That little color shift is a reminder: flavor is chemistry, and time is always working—even when you’re “doing nothing.”

In Japan, I often use lotus root in **osechi** (New Year’s food). I like it because it can stay crisp and bright, and because its holes make a nice symbol—“seeing through” the year ahead.

But there’s one trick: if you don’t handle it right, the surface oxidizes and the color goes dull.

[Image suggestion: Close-up of freshly sliced lotus root (white) vs. slightly oxidized (gray) on the board]

The simple rule: keep it in acid

My default move is boring—but it works:

• Slice lotus root, then keep it submerged in **water with a little vinegar**.
• Avoid leaving it exposed on the board.
• If you’re using metal tools that stain easily (iron), switch to stainless or something that won’t react.

Lotus root contains tannins, and those react with oxygen (and sometimes iron). Acid slows that down.

It’s not about perfection—it’s about staying crisp, clean, and bright.

[Image suggestion: Lotus root soaking in a bowl of vinegar water]

Red umezu pickling: the fastest way to make it “New Year-ready”

When I want color and sharpness, I reach for **red umezu**—the salty, sour brine from umeboshi (Japanese salted plums).

One soak and the lotus root takes on a clean acidity and a vivid pink-red tone.

That’s the kind of transformation I like: not “cooking,” but **shifting**—letting a simple liquid turn a raw vegetable into a preserved side that lasts and feels special.

[Image suggestion: A small jar or bowl of red umezu; the lotus root turning pink-red over time]

My craving dish: Karashi Renkon (mustard-stuffed lotus root)

Sometimes I want something more dramatic—crispy outside, sharp inside.

That’s when I make **karashi renkon**, a traditional Kumamoto-style dish: lotus root stuffed with mustard miso, then fried.

The process is a small ritual:

• Parboil the lotus root (again, a little vinegar in the water helps).
• Pack the holes with mustard-miso paste.
• Let it rest so the inside settles.
• Dust with flour and fry until the outside firms up and turns lightly golden.

Slice it and you get that perfect contrast: crunch, heat, sweetness, salt—like a snack that wakes your mouth up.

[Image suggestion: Step sequence—stuffing the holes / flouring / frying / the final sliced cross-section]

Taste, attention, and “time” you can actually see

Lotus root is a good teacher because it’s honest: it shows you oxidation, it shows you texture changes, it shows you how salt and acid reshape a vegetable.

It’s also a good reminder that preserved food doesn’t have to be heavy or old-fashioned.

Sometimes it’s just a way to keep color, keep crunch, keep your senses sharp—and keep tomorrow a little easier.

Want a small experiment? Cut lotus root tonight, keep it in vinegar water, then try a quick soak in red umezu.

Tomorrow, you’ll taste the difference—and you’ll *see* it too.

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