Back in April (…yes, my blog posts are VERY late), we celebrated the season of Autumn with a kaiseki at Ueda Sōko Ryū.  Many hands made light work of this wonderful little feast.

We started off with the requisite and perfectly cooked ichimonji (plain white rice), combined miso with grilled [...]]]>

Back in April (…yes, my blog posts are VERY late), we celebrated the season of Autumn with a kaiseki at Ueda Sōko Ryū.  Many hands made light work of this wonderful little feast.

We started off with the requisite and perfectly cooked ichimonji (plain white rice), combined miso with grilled chestnut and mustard, and sashimi.

The miso was extraordinary, having being started the day before by soaking konbu and shitake mushrooms in water.  While this was happening, boil some daikon in water for one and a half hours and keep the broth.  Then on the next day, remove the shitake and put the konbu on the heat to extract the first dashi, and mix this with the broth from the daikon.  Then comes the skillful bit – mixing the right amounts of red and white miso for the season – a perfect earthy heady hit of umami.  We then popped in a grilled chestnut and topped with a dollop of hot Japanese mustard.  Perfection in a bowl.

We were lucky that our sashimi was prepared by Aka Tombo in Prahran – lovely slices of salmon, salmon roe and a fine chiffonade of seaweed.  A halved gingko nut and a little wedge of wasabi highlighted the dish.

These little momiji musubi are maple leaf shaped glutinous rice cakes, grilled in a cast iron mould that Adam brought back from Miyajima in Japan. You can actually see these moulds in action making beautiful little cakes at my post on Miyajima here. The rice cakes were brushed with tare sauce, a sweetened shoyu sauce, which is used for grilling. The cast iron heats up so much, that the outside of the cakes are crunchy and golden like the autumn leaves, while the inside remain delicious soft and sticky.

We then moved to an azukebachi, a cold salad of lightly poached prawns and boiled, sliced lotus root with grated cucumber and shredded nori. The dressing was a mixture of orange and lemon juice, rice vinegar, umeboshi paste, mirin and usuguchi (light) soy sauce.  I will be making this one again as it was wonderful!

The nimonowan (simmered dish) was a clear sumashi broth with a slice of sea-bream/egg/edamame loaf, kampyo (gourd) knot, snow peas and garnished with a few peels of Josephine pear.  A little nama-fu (wheat gluten) maple leaf also paid homage to the season.

I really enjoyed this little block of baked tofu, which was spiked with burdock, carrot, konbu and shimeji mushrooms. It was seasoned with white miso, mirin, usuguchi soy, sugar and sake and baked for 25 minutes. This would be a nice vegan alternative to a frittata!  If anyone is interested in the recipe, let me know and I’ll post it.

We also had this with karasumi daikon; salted mullet roe sandwiched by crisp raw daikon slices. As a frame of reference, karasumi is similar to Italian Bottarga. I found the flavours quite unusual and intense – a balance of bitterness, salt and fish.

I’m just loving Japanese pickles, and in this instance we had a home made eggplant pickle (to the right), daikon and cucumber pickles, and a really unusual type of pickled gourd.

The wagashi (sweet) was also momiji (Japanese Maple) shaped, in this instance a tooled free f0rm shiro koshi-an (white bean)  sweet with a centre of koshi-an (red bean) paste.  I just love how smooth these little sweets are in the mouth, and they go so wonderfully well with green tea.

You can read some of my other Ueda Sōko Ryū experiences here.

Earlier in November I went back to Ueda Sōko Ryū Melbourne to honour the season of Spring with a special Kaiseki (note: you can read about my first experience at this Japanese Tea Ceremony School here). In fact, this time around I helped prepare food for the day. Sugoi!

The first few [...]]]>

Earlier in November I went back to Ueda Sōko Ryū Melbourne to honour the season of Spring with a special Kaiseki (note: you can read about my first experience at this Japanese Tea Ceremony School here). In fact, this time around I helped prepare food for the day. Sugoi!

The first few dishes consisted of ichimonji (plain white rice cooked in an earthenware pot), marinated salmon sashimi cubes with avocado, ponzu, freshly grated Tasmanian wasabi and toasted nori, and the most delectable bowl of pippies in a clear broth made from konbu and seasoned with usuguchi (light) soy sauce and mitsuba (wild Japanese parsley).

We followed this with a huge hanwan filled with Chirashizushi, which literally translates as ‘scattered sushi’.  The bottom of the bowl (which you can just see peeking through) is seasoned sushi rice.  On top we placed a generous scattering of fresh prawns, salmon sashimi, kampyo (rehydrated seasoned gourd shavings), sliced shitake mushrooms reconstituted with dashi/soy/mirin, sliced mini cucumbers, shreds of fresh and pickled gingers, sliced egg omelette, shredded nori, sliced snow peas and carrots cut into sakura (cherry blossom) flower shapes for decoration.

For the azukebachi course we had a fresh Spring-like salad of hakusai (Chinese cabbage), sliced nashi pear, watercress, Georgio’s ricotta and goji berries.  The dressing consisted of sliced spring onions, sesame oil, rice vinegar, honey, chilli peper, salt and toasted ground sesame seeds.

One of the tenets of a seasonal kaieski is to utilise the best of the season, and in this case, some fresh asparagus that was so tender it didn’t even need to be blanched! We served it sliced and mixed with a dressing of sushi vinegar, white miso and the gel-like substance and juice from a couple of spring onions that had been boiled for a short time.  Some recipes call for a little extra sugar, but apparently nuta (vegetables or seafood dressed with white miso) is best made so that the dressing is not too sweet.

One of the vinegar dishes was a simple mix of julienne carrots and daikon seasoned with brown rice vinegar, a little sugar and a light usuguchi soy sauce.

A kaiseki meal is not complete without some good pickles, in this case yellow blocks of daikon.

The daikon blocks have a use other than eating.  After the kaiseki meal is over, guests clean their lacquerware bowls in a way that is similar to a practise undertaken in Zen monasteries. The pickled daikon acts as a scraper to clean each plate into the one rice bowl, which is filled with a ladleful of yuzuke, a very light soup made within a toasted rice. Once the bowls are cleaned, they are usually blotted with wadded tissue paper until dry.

After the meal we paused for a leg stretch (entirely necessary after sitting on your knees for two hours), before returning for koicha (thick green tea) and Sakura (cherry blossom) Mochi.  How damn fantastic do these look?

This type of sakura mochi originates in Kansai and uses the whole mochi rice grain (a sweet short-grained glutinous variety) that results in a fantastic texture.

To start with the mochi rice is soaked overnight in water and scraped through a uragoshi (Japanese sieve) to make smaller grains.  This is covered with water before adding a small amount of red food dye; the grains will take on the colour almost immediately.  The rice is strained and spread on a damp cloth in a steamer and cooked till al dente.  A small amount of water and sugar is brought to the boil to make a syrup, and the cooked rice is mixed in with a cutting action till the grains absorb the sweet liquid.  A small amount of salt is added,  and the grain is returned to the steamer for another five minutes.

After steaming, leave the “dough” to cool.  When easy enough to handle, golf ball sized amounts are flattened on the palm (with wet hands) and anko, a red bean paste, is placed in the centre. The sides are brought in to make a seal and it is formed into the shape of a tawara (straw bag), before being enveloped in a sakura leaf.  In this case, we had some fresh cherry blossom leaves, but if unavailable, salted or pickled leaves can be used.

This was my first mochi making experience (but not the last – stay tuned for an upcoming post!), and is a sweet that I have grown very fond of.

I am now looking forward to Summer Kaiseki!

“Sohan o sashiagemasu,” (I shall begin to serve the humble meal) pronounces the host as he kneels on the straw tatami mat in front of the head guest and offers a black lacquered tray, his head slightly bowed.

The head guest turns to second guest and says “O-saki ni,” (excuse me [...]]]>

“Sohan o sashiagemasu,” (I shall begin to serve the humble meal) pronounces the host as he kneels on the straw tatami mat in front of the head guest and offers a black lacquered tray, his head slightly bowed.

The head guest turns to second guest and says “O-saki ni,” (excuse me for going ahead of you) and edges forward, accepting the tray and bowing to the host in return. He slides back to his original position and brings the tray closer, curious as to the contents of the two simple lidded enamelware bowls, admiring the elegant placement of sashimi on the mukozuke (main dish).

As the host hands the rest of the trays to the remaining eight guests, he instructs “O-hashi o o-tori kudasai,” (please take your chopsticks), before deftly switching to English. “It is at this point that you may take the lids from the meshiwan and shiruwan”, he points at the two covered bowls, “and place one on top of the other to the right of the tray. You may then sample the rice. This is called ichimonji – the first taste of rice. It gives the guest an idea of what is to come.”

What is to come is a four-hour lesson in the art of cha-kaiseki, an ancient style of cuisine that accompanies chanoyu, Japanese tea ceremony. For the students in this small apartment in the inner suburbs of Melbourne, it offers a fascinating insight into a traditional art of Japan. For host and teacher of Ueda Soko Ryu (‘Ryu;’ meaning ‘school’ in Japanese), Adam Wojcinski, it is his passion. “Personally, the tea ceremony condenses all my interests and passions into the one form: Zen, art and Japanese. The greatest appeal of the tea ceremony for me is that I am continuously bettering myself through its practice and I feel it beautifies my relations and interactions with others.”

Japanese tea ceremony evolved over many centuries, encapsulating tea drinking rituals and customs first cultivated in the temples of Zen Buddhists. The practice made its way into the merchant and military elite, becoming popular as a form of hospitality. It wasn’t until the sixteenth century when a merchant’s son took an interest, that tea ceremony was truly formalised. Sen no Rikyu studied and then codified the art under the tutelage of various temples and tea masters.

The Ueda Soko Ryu is a unique school of tea in that it originated from the samurai nobility under warlord leader Ueda Soko. Ueda trained under Sen no Rikyu, and the customs, etiquette and values of the samurai are woven directly into practice. Schools such as this are known as Buke-cha. The form is said to be dignified and beautiful as it is performed in harmony with the breath and without wasted movement. The custom also values wabi-cha, a form of ceremony practised in small tearooms utilising rustic utensils, such as wooden stands without lacquer and tea bowls without glaze. It emphasises the simplicity, authenticity and imperfection of nature.

Adam’s interest in tea ceremony was piqued after attending tea ceremony at the Ueda Soko Ryu in Japan. He had received a scholarship to study at Hijiyama University in Hiroshima in September 2000 and, as part of the annual University Festival, he was introduced to the art. “The sensei (teacher) liked my style in the tea room, and asked me to come back the following day to help.”

What followed was a weekly ritual of learning different styles of tea ceremony, appreciation of the other traditional Japanese arts such as calligraphy, ceramics, poetry, flower placement and kaiseki cuisine. “When I returned to Melbourne to complete my [academic] studies I continued tea ceremony by practising myself at home. Nearing the end of my studies I wrote to sensei asking if I could continue studying tea after graduation. I received an emphatic ‘yes’ and I returned to Hiroshima, to live this time, straight after graduation.”

Adam found the Japanese people to be very receptive to his sincere desire to learn the art of tea ceremony. One of the biggest hurdles was understanding the nuance and subtlety of the language, especially in the very formal world of tea ceremony. “I am sure I insulted and offended people many, many more times than I am aware of,” he confesses. “One person in my practice group had made a special dish just for me. I was very moved by what she had done and wanted to say ‘I feel bad’. I ended up saying in front of very senior sensei that what she had done ‘made me feel sick’. Japanese people almost never correct or admonish you if you make a mistake in language. That was one time I was very sternly corrected. I have never forgotten the expression ‘ki no doku (I feel bad)’ after that experience!”

Towards the end of 2005, Adam returned to Melbourne and was encouraged by his sensei to continue his studies and introduce the Ueda Soko school to others. “The idea of having no formal tea practice left me with feelings of utter emptiness. I wanted to create, at least in some part, a setting where I could share my passion for the tea ceremony and love of practice. I also had in the back of my mind the understanding that any public performance or demonstrations here in Melbourne would be impossible without others.”

He started advertising a tea ceremony group on local noticeboards at Universities and in Japanese supermarkets, restaurants and related organisations. He also thought long and hard about what equipment he would need in order to teach Melbournians about tea. He even had to organise a special import permit with AQIS to bring in special low-smoking charcoal required for heating the water. “I tried making my own charcoal, but on the first run I almost smoked everyone out!”

Slowly Adam started to gather students around him who were as keen to learn about tea ceremony as he was. Classes are held each Saturday in his home, and around ten students attend on a regular basis. They practice temae (tea making procedure), with everyone performing at least once during the session. They also learn guest etiquette, how to serve and drink tea and sweets in the proper manner, the study of Zen and nature poems, kaiseki cuisine, Japanese sweet-making and even how to dress in kimono.

Interestingly, it is the diversity of Adam’s students that makes the class really special. Ranging anywhere from ten to sixty years of age, the make-up of the group swings from software engineer to retired architect, Korean travel agent to procurement consultant, student to soon to be English teacher in Japan. Despite the differences, a common love for the traditional arts of Japan brings them together.

Bria, a twenty-something procurement consultant, has been studying tea ceremony and kaiseki for about two years. She also has a keen interest in preparing the delicate food. “Adam and I were working till midnight last night in preparation for today, and I was up again early to head to the market for fresh ingredients. Adam wrote me a shopping list, but I couldn’t find red carrots, which are common in Japan. Anyway, I made it back to his place and we started again at 8am.”

The kaiseki ceremony commenced at 11am, and what proceeded was an exquisite and delicate seven-course banquet. “The idea behind kaiseki is it’s just enough to fill you up. Nothing too much. Zen monks used to substitute a small meal to keep them going through their training. The name actually comes from a stone they kept close to their stomach to keep them warm at night to meditate. With the same sort of idea, kaiseki is just enough to keep you going,” advised Adam.

“Some things we’ve done for the first time,” confided Bria with a grin. “So we were a little worried. But it was practice for us as well.”

Practice is something Adam definitely has learned the value of. “I remember the first time I did this in Melbourne, I did everything by myself. I was such a stickler for doing things the right way – by the book – to make sure it would be done just right. One of the things I tried to prepare myself was sashimi, and I failed miserably as there were a couple of bones in it. I’ve learned a lot since then.”

Hapuka sashimi with a little knob of wasabi to the side

Thick, creamy Miso soup made with about 80% white miso. A round of daikon sits in the middle, garnished with a dollop of hot mustard and two red beans

Shrimp and tofu dumpling in a deep red bowl of light dashi broth, artistically placed with a walnut kernel, single sliced green bean, conjoined mushrooms and a few curls of lemon rind

The aemono (dressed dish) consisted of blanched spinach, enoki mushrooms and konnyaku (jelly made from the konnyaku root) with a flavouring of konbu dashi, sake, mirin, shoyu and Murray River pink salt

Lightly grilled tempeh with nori and avocado

Oysters with a panko and yuzu

Japanese style pickles including daikon, takanazuke and eggplant

Omogashi

After the kaiseki meal, the group moves on to the omogashi – the main sweet offered before the koicha tea ceremony. The guest opens the fuchidaka (stacked box of lacquered trays) to reveal the sweets; small balls of sweetened bean paste, decorated with three goji berries. It becomes apparent how important design is to each dish. “The sweet looks quite effective with the black. The thought behind it is that when you open up the black fuchidaka in the dark room, the red is more striking against the black background as compared to the orange of an apricot that I have used for this sweet in the past. I wanted to raise the tension in the charged atmosphere, which is the atmosphere of the koicha.”

Koicha, a thick version of macha (green tea), is prepared for tea ceremony. “It is made with the very youngest leaves of the tea plant. So just as the leaves are starting to shoot up the youngest ones are taken off and ground up. That’s why you can have it so thick, as it doesn’t have the astringency of the older leaves on the bush. The older leaves are used to make the thinner version of macha, usacha.”

Adam preparing the koicha

As Adam prepares for the tea ceremony, the blinds are drawn to intensify the mood, the charcoal stoked and the hot water rises to an intense boil. Adam ritually cleans each utensil in front of his students – tea bowl, whisk and scoop. Once this is done he measures the macha and places it into the bowl, adding a small amount of boiling water. He then begins to work the tea in with the piping hot water in slow, steady movements – the utensils and body coming together in harmony. “You don’t want to create bubbles in koicha, so you work the tea into a liquid in controlled movements. 150 times to be exact. At 150 the beverage takes on a natural sheen.”

The tea is served and the head guest is the first to sample the thick green brew – the flavour is vibrant. The head guest cleans the rim of the bowl and passes it to the next guest with a bow.

After all the guests have taken tea, Adam cleans the utensils and prepares them for inspection and admiration by the students. The appreciation of bowls, tea caddy and tea scoop is an important part of the tea ceremony and the utensils are handled with extreme care as they may be antique or unique. Adam collects the utensils and bows his exit from the room.

Once the ceremony is over, the mood becomes more casual and the students gather to wash dishes, discuss the next lesson or demonstration, and to chat about previous and up-coming trips to Japan (a very common theme). Adam, too, was excited to report from his last trip, “Things took a step up last year in October when I had talks with the 16th Grandmaster of our school, Ueda Sokei, on a study trip to Japan. Everything is still in its infancy, but we are now going ahead to establish a formal practice location with direct support from the Schools Headquarters.”

Such fervent dedication to the art of Japanese tea ceremony requires patience and perseverance. When asked if it was difficult to start the school and share his knowledge, Adam replied “I must answer bluntly that nothing seems difficult when you love what you’re doing.”

* * *

Japanese Tea Ceremony practice is held in Hawthorn on Saturday mornings, and new members are welcomed. Contact Adam at:

* * *

Note: You may have noticed this is not my usual style of writing, but I hope you enjoyed my foray into feature writing.