In Japan, the choice of what to serve for a meal, and how to present it, is closely linked to natural phenomenon, and to indigenous folklore. Each month at table, and in the kitchen, has a distinct seasonal identity, complete with its own legends, festivals, motifs, and color schemes associated with it.

Trying to decipher Japan's culinary code can be challenging. I know that I struggled at first to grasp the meaning of what everyone around me thought was obvious. To enable those who have not been brought up with Japanese traditions to better understand and appreciate Japanese culinary references to each season, I have been posting essays every few months to this SEASONAL JAPANESE KITCHEN page.

The first essay, posted in December of 2002,highlighted Oshogatsu, the New Year holiday, while the second one focused on Hina Matsuri (Doll's Day) celebrated on March 3. The third essay was devoted to cherry blossom viewing and the obento lunchbox tradition. The fourth installment told a summertime tale of love -- and of slurping thin, white noodles, served on ice, in celebration of Tanabata. The fifth article posted to this Seasonal Japanese Kitchen page, addressed the strong, regional preferences most Japanese grow up with regarding miso (an indispensable seasoning made from fermented soybeans). The sixth installment that returned to the subject of oshogatsu, was written by Jens Hollaender Jensen, one of several people I have been mentoring in the field of food writing. The seventh, and most recently displayed story was one I wrote on "Eel-Eating Days of Summer."

Autumn

With this FALL, 2004 issue of the SEASONAL JAPANESE KITCHEN, I focus on AKI NO MIKAKU, autumnal eating pleasures. Of the many foods that the Japanese place in that category, the fish called sanma, a slender, sleek, and steely-colored species whose name means "autumn sword," and the sturdy-looking, but delicately pine-perfumed matsutake mushroom, are at opposite ends of the economic scale.

Sanma has always been considered shomin no aji, or "food for the masses." All the major Japanese beer companies picture smoky, sizzling, slightly charred sanma in their autumn ads. And, in historical novels and period-piece TV dramas, it is the common folk, never the local aristocracy, who get to enjoy this fall fish. And no wonder, sanma is cheap -- this week my local supermarket is selling 2 fish for 150 yen (about $1.40 a pair). I suspect that every fish shop in Tokyo must be having similar specials.

In contrast, upscale sake producers offer images of outrageously expensive matsutake mushrooms in their commercials. Just how outrageous can the prices be for this posh fall delicacy? Take a look at this web site:

http://www.yaomatu.co.jp/matu.html/

Yes, the woven basket to the right holding 3 mushrooms costs 52, 500 yen, or $480 at today's exchange rate of 109 yen to the dollar!

Not all matsutake are that costly (the average price for domestic mushrooms is about 5,000 yen per basket). And, they are sliced thinly and cooked with other ingredients. A pilaf-like preparation known as kama meshi is a popular way of stretching the pine-scented pleasure of a single mushroom to feed several people. A version of this can be had as an ekiben (boxed meals available at train stations) at Fukuyama station in Hiroshima in the fall, for only 1,000 yen.

http://homepage2.nifty.com/oozora/fukuyamamatsutakekamameshi.htm/

Other types of mushrooms are also enjoyed during the autumn months. Here, you see three popular varieties that are cultivated, rather than foraged, to help contain costs.

http://www.saitama-kita.jp/154_agricul.html/

Clockwise from the upper right are slender-stalked, small-capped, ivory enoki mushrooms, stocky eringi (sometimes referred to as the poor-man's matsutake because they mimic the shape, texture, and to a lesser extent the aroma, of the more costly mushroom), and ruffled, maitake (literally "dancing" mushroom; often called "hen-of-the-woods" in American markets) that have a deep, forest-rich flavor.

A recipe for enjoyment of autumn

In response to many requests to include a recipe with my seasonal essays, I offer you instruction in making salt-broiled fish to enable you to enjoy UMI NO SACHI (the bounty of the ocean) this autumn at your own table.

ENJOYING A FISH CALLED SANMA

Typically, sanma is sprinkled with coarse salt, and then grilled, ungutted. Each person gets his or her own fish, whole. Served with a sudachi lime and a small mound of grated daikon radish drizzled with soy sauce, sanma is one of the great plebeian pleasures of autumn. Although traditionally grilling was done in Japan around open hearths, nowadays people use nets placed directly over kitchen gas ranges, or racks slipped under stovetop broiling units. Not surprisingly, this creates a great deal of smoke, and an unmistakable smell, especially when cooking a nice oily fish, such as sanma. But, the Japanese take a pragmatic approach to their neighbor's cooking odors: most people ignore them, or when that's not possible, offer to share their home-made fare, as I discovered many years ago when I first came to Japan.

Returning home one autumn evening to find that thick smoke had filled my small, rented room in Tokyo, my first thought was to call the fire department. When I realized that no one else in my neighborhood was showing any signs of alarm, I took another whiff. I decided the aroma was rather good, and following my nose, arrived at my landlady's kitchen. With apologies for having only humble fare to offer me, I was invited to sample her freshly grilled sanma. It was simply delicious -- more succulent than trout, and with far fewer bones.

MAKING, and EATING, A FISH CALLED SANMA

In Japan, it will be a simple matter to buy fresh, whole sanma in your local market. Outside Japan, ask for Pacific saury. If you are met with puzzlement, print out the image here, and ask again.

http://www6.ocn.ne.jp/~onotosi/sanma.htm/

Take your prized (but inexpensive) sanma home WHOLE and UNGUTTED. Rinse it under cold water, pat it dry and then place it in a baking pan or other flat-bottomed, shallow container in which the fish will fit, uncut and unbent. Pour several spoonfuls of sake (rice wine) over the fish, flipping gently to be sure that all surfaces have been moistened. Allow the sanma to sit for 5 or 6 minutes before sprinkling all surfaces of the fish generously with coarse salt. Now allow the sanma to sit for at least 20 minutes at room temperature, or up to 24 hours, covered with clear plastic wrap in the refrigerator.

When ready to cook, unwrap and blot up any accumulated moisture from the fish. If the fish are too long to fit under your broiler (or place on top of your grill), cut each in half JUST BEFORE COOKING. (If you really want to gut your fish, now is the time to do it - use your fingers or a long chopstick to gently pull out the inner organs from both the head end, and the tail end. Rinse under cold water, pat the fish dry, and lightly re-salt.)

Japanese household broilers are fitted with a tray under the rack to catch drippings. Water should be placed in this tray to prevent flare-ups from the fish oils. In American supermarkets, I have seen disposable, ridged, foil broiler pans, specially treated to absorb excess cooking oils and fat.

Cooking the "wrong side" first

When the Japanese present whole fish on a plate, the head is typically to the left, tail to the right, and the belly facing forward. This is referred to as the "correct" position. Keeping this in mind, begin cooking the fish with the "wrong side" toward the source of heat, flipping the fish carefully with a spatula about 2/3 of the way thorough.

Cooking time varies with the size of the fish and the type of broiler or grill you use, but sanma shouldn't take more than 10 minutes, and usually only 7-8 minutes total, to cook through. When the fish is done, the eyes will be opaque, the skin will be brown and bubbly (even slightly charred), and the flesh will feel firm (try pressing the belly area lightly with tongs or long chopsticks).

While the fish cooks, peel a chunk of daikon radish and grate it, preferably on a ceramic grater to avoid a metallic taste.Grated daikon radish is rich in vitamin C, thought to counteract possible carcinogenic effects of grilling. To preserve this air-sensitive nutrient, it is best to grate the radish just before eating. Transfer the grated radish to a mesh strainer lined with cloth (the Japanese use sarashi, a muslin-like cloth for this and other kitchen tasks) or paper towel. Lift up the edges of the cloth or paper towel to form a bag enclosing the grated radish. Gently squeeze to drain off excess liquid.

Coax the grated-and-drained radish into small mounds and use these to garnish each plate. Cut sudachi (or limes) into wedges and place these on each plate, too. Place the fish in the "correct" position on individual dishes and serve with soy sauce to drizzle over the grated radish.

Eating whole fish

Eating whole sanma: The skin is edible, though you may prefer to remove it. To do so, insert chopsticks (or the tines of a fork) just under the belly skin. Lift and peel back. Squeeze sudachi or lime juice over the exposed top half of the fish. Pull off small bits, top each mouthful with some grated radish and eat! (Like lake trout, the belly area of sanma contains finer, softer bones -- the "rib cage" - which, by the way, many Japanese consume, as is. Eat with care, removing bones as necessary. Most Japanese will also eat the innards, though you may prefer to leave them behind.) When the spine is fully visible, lift it up and enjoy the bottom half of the fish (no need to flip it over). Head, tail, spine (and skin and innards, if you chose not to eat these) will remain on your plate after you have feasted.

For an image of the cooked fish, return to the home page http://tasteofculture.com/

Making salt-broiled fillets of fish

No luck in securing sanma? Try preparing a fillet of mackerel or Spanish mackerel, in the same way. Be sure your fillets have the skin intact.

http://wakamef-web.hp.infoseek.co.jp/02061106.jpg/

Cooking times vary with the size and variety of fish, and with the type of broiler, grill, or roaster you use. On average, fresh fish that has been lightly salted will take 6 to 7 minutes for the skin to brown and bubble (possibly char in places). That is when, if you are using a broiler or grill, you will need to flip the fish over. Another 3 minutes should suffice to complete cooking 1/2-inch-thick fillets. To check for doneness, try lightly pressing the thickest section with tongs or long chopsticks; it should feel firm, though not hard.

The Japanese typically present fillets as though they were part of a whole creature: the thicker portion (that was nearer the head when the fish was alive) is set to the left, with the belly forward.