It's been billed as a workshop that will reveal the secrets of great warabi mochi. The teacher: a master craftsman with a reputation for exclusivity. The content: instructions not found in regular recipes.
Where do I sign up?
Amatouichi and Juko Workshop
The class is part of this year’s Amatouichi, a June event that brings wagashi makers together to stage booths, hold workshops and discuss traditional Japanese confectionery.
Juko owner Takaya Hironari, who trained for years with a confectioner specializing in warabi mochi, is one of the few invited to teach.
The shop’s name is spoken of with reverence in Kyoto tea ceremony circles, known as dedicated consumers of traditional Japanese confections.
Of Juko it is said that orders are a must and that simply waltzing into the shop is setting yourself up for disappointment. (Takaya-san has clarified that this is true in busy periods but sweets may be available without ordering at other times of the year.)
One of the top draws at Juko is warabi mochi (わらび餅). A jelly-like sweet made from bracken starch and dusted with roasted soybean flour, the confection comes in two versions.
The one reminiscent of Turkish delight is a popular item in cafes specializing in traditional Japanese sweets.
Its cousin, the round sweet that looks more like typical mochi, is much harder to find. As with traditional mochi, the dough is wrapped around with red bean paste to create a confection refined enough for tea ceremony gatherings.
This is the kind that Juko makes and the subject of its workshop at the wagashi fair. But the initial steps of the process are the same for both versions.
Into a saucepan go water, sugar and warabiko - warabi flour. Takaya-san sets the pan on a portable stove. ‘Not too high a heat or the mixture will burn,’ he says. ‘Just hot enough to dissolve the warabiko.’
The few ingredients required is one of the attractions for those who make warabi mochi at home. But not all ingredients are created equal and the choice of warabiko is crucial.
What Is Hon Warabiko?
Traditionally, the starch came from warabi, a type of fern that grows wild in sunny plains and fields. The young shoots are harvested in spring and enjoyed as a vegetable.
Warabi starch comes from its rhizomes. In autumn, these are dug up, washed and hit with mallets. The rhizomes are then soaked to separate out the starch, which needs to be further processed before it can be used to make warabi mochi.
All of this adds up to a lot of time and labor for very little starch.
If you find warabiko in a supermarket or Asian grocery store, chances are, it's a cheaper substitute such as sweet potato or tapioca starch.
But to get a chewy texture and melt-in-your-mouth softness, look for hon warabiko, which has bracken starch as its main ingredient.
If you’re not sure which you’ve bought, mix the flour with water and heat it up. If it turns brown, you have hon - real - warabiko. If it remains white or grey, you have wallet-friendly warabiko, also known as warabi mochiko.
Juko uses its own flour consisting of a warabi mochiko blend and two types of hon warabiko. As for sugar, Takaya-san prefers zarame, which has larger crystals and a more complex flavor compared with refined white sugar. But, he says, ‘it’s okay to use granulated sugar’.
Tips from a Master
The main thing is not to let the mixture burn. As Takaya-san talks, he is constantly stirring the contents of the saucepan with a spatula. The mixture thickens; the motion changes from stirring to beating: this brings out the elasticity in the dough.
‘But don’t over-beat,’ says Takaya-san, ‘or the elasticity will be lost’.
To check, lift the spatula from the mixture - if it drips in a ribbon-like flow from the spatula, he says, ‘the batch can’t be used’.
Workshop organizer Miyazaki Yasue, a wagashi teacher who helps out at Juko, interjects at this point. ‘If we made warabi mochi at home and the batch failed,’ she says, ‘I think we would eat it anyway.’
Just add a liberal topping of kinako. Like icing sugar, the brown powder covers a multitude of sins.
So, when do you stop beating? One sign: when the mixture turns translucent and takes on a luster. The second sign: the sound of the batter.
‘Can you hear it?’ Takaya-san asks. The room falls silent.
At first, I hear nothing but the glooping of a heavy mixture being beaten but, after a few seconds, the pitch grows noticeably higher. This is the sign - Takaya-san turns the fire off and tips the mixture onto a tray of kinako powder.
Next, he prepares the anko by mixing syrup into the red bean paste. He keeps pouring and pouring - a sound of disbelief escapes from the participant beside me as the paste becomes a slurry.
The sweet tastes best when the filling is as soft as the dough, Takaya-san says. ‘Most wagashi makers would not be able to work with filling this soft,’ he adds. It is not a boast, just a statement of fact.
He breaks the dough into pieces of equal size - he uses no measuring scales, only his hands and eyes.
He works fast, folding the corners of each piece in to make a perfect round, scooping anko onto the dough then bringing the ends together.
Amateur Attempts vs Juko Quality
Like any master, he makes it look easy but when the workshop participants are given warabi dough and anko to make their own mochi, a comedy of errors ensues: hot dough sticking to hands - not enough soybean powder - confections of wildly different shapes and sizes, and bean paste peeking out of mochi that refuses to close.
‘It’s all about temperature control,’ says Takaya-san. ‘Too hot and you won’t be able to wrap the dough around the filling. Too cold and the ends won’t stick together.’
We each get one of the confections he made - the sweet has become so soft that it spreads over the kaishi paper.
I set a mochi that I made beside it. The difference - both in appearance and texture - are immediately apparent.
The Juko version slips down the throat, disappearing like a dream that vanishes in the morning. You do not eat the mochi so much as drink it.
If you've known only the heavy type of mochi, the solidity of cakes made from glutinous rice, this will come as nothing short of a revelation.
‘Gone in an instant,’ says one participant. ‘Gone just like that.’ There is a general air of mourning.
Miyazaki-sensei tells us that we can always phone the shop to place an order.
But that jelly-like texture cannot be enjoyed all year around. While confections made of warabi are a popular summertime treat, Juko does not make warabi mochi from July to September because it's too hot.
If you visit Kyoto in those months or if you can’t place a phone order in Japanese, don't despair. Head west of the Kyoto Imperial Palace and look for Kameya Hironaga.
Kameya Hironaga: Jewel near the Palace
It’s easy to miss this quaint little shop. Even with the wooden signboard, it looks like just another house along the quiet residential street.
Step inside and you’ll find a tiny space crowded with confections, knick-knacks and Hanshin Tigers memorabilia.
On the counter, a golden cat figurine, paw raised to beckon in good fortune, stands guard beside konpeito candy, monaka wafers and seasonal Japanese sweets such as chimaki dumplings.
In one lacquered box are exquisitely designed monaka infused with a roasted tea flavor. For reasons not immediately apparent, a cocktail umbrella lies upside down on the wafers.
And kinako powder - warabi mochi's telltale sign - is everywhere.
The interior may come as a surprise in a city where shops, especially those related to traditional crafts and cuisine, are ruthlessly tidy. Yet the haphazardness looks human and, somehow, kind.
A chat with the mild-mannered owner soon reveals the source of that kindness.
Horie Hiro trained at Kameya Kiyonaga, a confectioner in the geisha district of Gion with a history that dates back some 400 years. Retiring after about 40 years of service, he returned to his parents’ home to grow flowers, rear fish and turtles - and open his own wagashi shop.
While he also makes jo-namagashi, the refined confections for tea ceremony gatherings, he is best known for his warabi mochi. This is the cubed version familiar to most but the softness of the sweet stuns even connoisseurs.
Naturally, he uses hon warabiko, in particular, a kind that has been matured for five years, which gives the sweet an extra depth of flavor.
Warabi mochi is often served chilled but this version is best served at room temperature. If you refrigerate it, be sure to take it out of the refrigerator in plenty of time to restore the nutty aroma.
It's common to see warabi mochi drizzled with kuromitsu syrup but the subtle sweetness here is more than satisfying - there's no need to add brown sugar syrup.
I ask Horie-san what it’s like to make warabi mochi in summer. ‘Hard,’ he says. ‘Gets very hot in the kitchen.’
I purchase a box and some other sweets; he urges me to help myself to the free warabi mochi. With rising costs, samples have all but disappeared from confectionery shops in Kyoto but here is a heaping portion.
The generosity, like the entire store and its owner, belongs to another age.
The samples come in a wooden trencher carved to look like a turtle - kame. A symbol of longevity and steadfastness, it also serves as the first character of the shop’s name.
The elderly proprietor does not say much about wagashi. A fervent Hanshin Tigers fan, he seems happier discussing baseball than expounding on his creations. But parked behind the turtle bearing warabi mochi is a toy Hummer in camouflage colors and, on the vehicle is the word, MISSION.
Photos and text by Janice Tay
Shop Information
JUKO 御菓子司 聚洸Address: 548 Suijikaibashicho, Kamigyo Ward, Kyoto 602-0091
Tel: 075-431-2800
Open: 10am - 5pm
Closed on Wednesdays, Sundays and public holidays.
Payment: Cash
Reservations: Recommended; must be made up to three days before your visit. Items may be available for purchase without reservation - call the store on the day to check.
KAMEYA HIRONAGA 京御菓子司 亀屋博永Address: 38, Daikokuyacho, Kamigyo Ward, Kyoto 602-8055
Tel: 075-431-4438
Open: 9am - 6pm
Closed on Wednesdays.
Payment: Cash