2
it was the height of the autumn foliage season, and kyoto was heaving with visitors. even
shomen-dori, the street that ran past the kamogawa diner, was even busier than usual, with
hordes of tourists making their way between higashi honganji temple and the nearby shosei-en
garden.
‘i wonder if that mr yamada is actually going to turn up,’ said koishi, standing in front of the
restaurant and bending down to stroke drowsy.
‘you did send him a reminder, right?’ said nagare, anxiously surveying the passing throngs of
people.
‘of course! mr yamada is just a little busy, it seems. he said he’d be here a bit later than last
week.’
‘but it’s one o’clock already,’ said nagare, shooing the cat away as it tried to curl itself around
his legs. ‘he was here at twelve on the dot last time.’
‘oh! is that him?’ said koishi, pointing in the direction of higashi honganji temple. ‘there,
getting out from the taxi.’
dressed in a dark blue suit, tomomi strode hastily over to where they were waiting in their
chef’s whites.
‘sorry i’m late. did you come out here just to wait for me?’
‘oh, we were just enjoying the sun with drowsy here. please, come on in,’ said nagare, sliding
the door open.
‘i am sorry for the rush,’ said tomomi, bowing as he walked into the restaurant.
‘you have work to get back to, i imagine? we’ll be quick. i’ll leave you in dad’s hands,’ said
koishi, showing tomomi to a table. in contrast to his more casual appearance last week, tomomi
did look as though he’d only just slipped away from some engagement.
nagare sat down at the formica table opposite tomomi, while koishi disappeared into the
kitchen. there was a brief pause before tomomi broached the reason for his visit.
‘well then, did you manage to find out about that sushi?’
‘if we hadn’t, we wouldn’t have asked you to come,’ said nagare, grinning playfully.
‘thank you for your hard work.’
‘i wouldn’t thank me yet. i’ve tried making the mackerel sushi you were after, mr yamada, but
there’s a chance it won’t match up to your expectations – in which case, i hope you’ll forgive me.’
‘i’m well aware of that,’ said tomomi, fixing nagare with his gaze.
‘koishi,’ called nagare, twisting to face the kitchen, ‘cut up the second one from the right,
would you? two-centimetre slices.’
from the kitchen came the sound of a chef’s knife – five deliberate thuds, at equal intervals.
‘will tea be fine?’ asked koishi, bringing over a black lacquer tray. on it was the mackerel
sushi, arranged on a long, narrow koimari-ware dish. ‘we have sake too.’
‘oh, no, definitely tea. i have work to get back to,’ said tomomi, glancing at the dish in front of
him. he fell silent, contemplating the dish with what seemed like intense concentration.
‘please,’ said nagare, gesturing towards the sushi.
tomomi did as nagare suggested. as if unable to wait a moment longer, he briefly pressed his
palms together, then brought a slice of sushi to his mouth. nagare and koishi were staring at him,
carefully studying his mouth and expression.
tomomi began to chew slowly, as though contemplating the flavour.
there was another lengthy silence.
‘no doubt about it. this is it. this is what i was after.’
his eyes seemed to moisten slightly. tomomi picked up another piece of sushi and opened his
mouth.
‘phew!’ said koishi, unable to resist clapping her hands together.
‘the colour. the zestiness. that crunch. it’s perfect. i can only describe it as magic. it’s exactly
the sushi i had fifty years ago. but you’ve never even eaten it – how on earth did you . . .’ tomomi
set his chopsticks down and sat up straight. ‘please, tell me how you did it!’
‘well, i went through everything you told koishi last week, one by one. the kuwano ryokan,
the “living torii gate”, yellow sushi rice, and the ryukyu islands. those were the four keywords.
first, i paid a visit to mushakoji-cho, where that ryokan used to be. of course, there’s no trace of
it now, but i asked one of the locals about it. they told me kuwano was not a surname, but a place
name. but there are dozens of kuwanos all over japan. i was at a loss.’
nagare paused for a sip of tea before continuing.
‘the site of the kuwano ryokan had been turned into a block of apartments. there was an
impressive tree in the front garden – a tosa winter hazel, to be precise. i asked someone about it
and was told it had been there since the days of the ryokan. so i wondered if the owner might be
from the tosa region. at the same time, i was still wondering about that name, kuwano. i knew
i’d heard it somewhere. i did some more research and realized that the kuwano river runs through
nankoku – which is in tosa. so kuwano and tosa were connected after all. it was time for a trip.’
nagare smiled, and a grin rose to tomomi’s lips too.
‘dad always likes to see things for himself,’ chipped in koishi, gazing earnestly at her father.
‘i closed the restaurant for the day, and travelled to the kuwano river in nankoku to see what i
could find. first, i looked for this “living torii gate”. i asked some locals if they’d heard of such a
thing, and they all told me i must mean the jiju shrine. following their directions, i made my way
to a small old shrine – and in front of it, i found what i was looking for. mr yamada, may i ask
what you were imagining this “living gate” to look like?’
‘well,’ said tomomi frankly, ‘you have to remember i was only eight at the time. i suppose i
imagined it somehow coming alive at night and wriggling around. you know, something a little . .
. supernatural.’
‘i had similar thoughts at first. but the gate turned out to be mysterious in quite a different way.
take a look.’
nagare showed tomomi a photo he’d taken with his digital camera.
‘that’s the gate?’ asked tomomi, who had taken off his glasses. ‘looks more like a tree to me.’
he looked baffled.
‘that’s right. see how those two cedars have merged together to form a kind of torii? they’re
called the kuwano torii cedars. they’re a well-known local landmark. instead of chopping down a
tree and using it to make the gate, the locals decided to use a living tree. i was convinced this was
the “living torii gate” the ryokan owner had been talking about. so i asked the priest at the shrine
to tell me more about it, and that’s when i stumbled across the juiciest morsel of intel.’
‘dad is always good with juicy morsels,’ said koishi, a delighted look on her face as she poured
tomomi some more tea.
‘the priest told me that he remembered a local woman who went off to run a ryokan in kyoto.
a little west of the shrine was a village called tosayama nishikawa, and that turned out to be
where the owner of the kuwano ryokan hailed from. does the name haruko taira ring any bells?’
nagare looked straight at tomomi.
‘now that you mention it,’ replied tomomi, nodding slowly, ‘i think the staff at the ryokan used
to call her haru-san . . .’
‘after shutting down the ryokan, haruko went back to her hometown, where sadly she passed
away many years ago. but i met a woman there who said she had learned the recipe directly from
her. i got her to tell me all about it – and this mackerel sushi here is the result. it’s pickled tosa-
style, but the mackerel itself i sourced from wakasa, seeing as that’s where haruko would have
got it from back in those days.’
nagare gazed at the sushi on the table.
‘so she was from tosa, eh? i was convinced she was either an okinawan or a kyotoite.’
tomomi extracted a grain of rice from his moustache with his fingers, then reached for his third
slice of sushi.
‘in tosa, there’s a type of sushi called inaka-zushi, where they use the local yuzu fruit to season
the rice. they combine it with the usual vinegar, giving the rice a yellow colour. it has quite the
unique aroma. not sure i’d call it lemony, though.’
koishi had taken a seat next to nagare and seemed to be appreciating the sushi’s aroma.
‘what’s this?’ asked tomomi, noticing the vegetable that was wedged between the sliced
mackerel and vinegared rice. ‘it looks like thinly sliced aubergine . . .’
‘i only figured this part out right at the end. that, mr yamada, is the “ryukyu” you
remembered. it turns out that in tosa, they call this species of taro “ryukyu”. sometimes they cut
it into thin slices and place them on top of mackerel sushi – a bit like the use of kombu in the
kyoto version of the same dish. you must have just remembered the word “ryukyu” and assumed
she was referring to the islands. but i’m guessing that crunchy texture is bringing back memories.’
‘so that’s what that was all about!’ tomomi munched away at the ‘ryukyu’, a pensive look on
his face.
‘i don’t mean to pry,’ began nagare hesitantly, ‘but can i ask why you were eating sushi at that
ryokan in the first place?’
‘mine was a rather sad little family, you see. father was hardly ever home and my mother was
always busy during the day. i never really experienced the kind of warmth most people associate
with the word “family”. but the ryokan owner was kind. whenever she saw me moping about in
front of my house, she’d invite me over.’ tomomi’s eyes glistened, a distant look coming over his
face.
‘and that was haruko, eh?’
‘i just remembered something. whenever i was eating the sushi, she’d always ask, “tasty?” so
of course, i’d tell her yes, it’s tasty, thank you. but then she’d ask me again: “tasty?” it was sort
of annoying having to repeat myself every time i tried a slice, so eventually i blurted out
something like, “i already told you it’s tasty!” and, well . . .’
‘she flipped?’ asked koishi, leaning in close.
‘“you rude little thing,” she said. “sometimes once isn’t enough!” she had this scary look on
her face. my parents never told me off like that.’
tomomi’s eyes were riveted to the ceiling as he recalled these bygone days. ‘then she turned to
me and said something like, “we get used to things too easily. you think something’s tasty the
first time you eat it, but then you start taking it for granted. never forget your first impressions.”
ah, this sushi is bringing back all sorts of memories.’ by now tomomi was gazing lovingly at the
dish in front of him.
‘tell me,’ nagare broke in. ‘do you remember haruko’s motto? the person who taught me
how to make the sushi told me about a certain phrase that was always on her lips.’
‘hmm, i can’t say i do . . .’ said tomomi. ‘as i said, this was fifty years ago.’ his phone
buzzed in his pocket. another message.
‘sorry, you’re in a rush. koishi, wrap the leftovers up for him, would you?’
‘sure thing. mr yamada, i assume you won’t be needing a taxi this week either?’
tomomi nodded, and koishi rushed off to the kitchen.
‘i’m very sorry to have rushed you like this.’
‘the important thing is that we were able to find what you were looking for!’ said nagare, a
relieved look on his face. ‘it’s a weight off my mind, i tell you!’
‘i’m just glad i spotted your advert in gourmet monthly,’ said tomomi, breaking into a smile.
‘but that doesn’t even give our location, or any contact details!’ said nagare, smiling. ‘all it
says is kamogawa diner – kamogawa detective agency – we find your food. people go up and
down the kamogawa river looking for us.’
‘plus you don’t even have a sign,’ said tomomi, somehow managing to grin and glower at the
same time.
‘oh, if we put a sign up we’d be overwhelmed,’ replied nagare calmly. ‘people would go on
those silly websites and write all sorts of reviews. no – we do just fine with our regulars.’
‘we don’t want the place to start filling up with so-called gourmets and experts and the like!’
chipped in koishi from the kitchen.
‘so how did you find us?’ said nagare, looking tomomi in the eye.
‘i asked akane, the editor-in-chief, about this place. or rather, forced her to tell me about it.’
‘so akane is an acquaintance of yours?’
‘oh, i wouldn’t really say she’s an acquaintance . . .’ mumbled tomomi, looking away.
‘well, if you read gourmet monthly, you must have a pretty keen interest in food.’
‘every issue,’ said tomomi, with a wry smile. ‘and it kept bothering me, that bit about we
find your food.’
‘that one-line advert is the only way for anyone to find us,’ said nagare, matching tomomi’s
expression.
‘then you could at least add a bit more detail!’ tomomi’s face had turned serious again.
‘fate works in mysterious ways.’ nagare fixed tomomi with his gaze. ‘i reckon we always
meet the people we’re supposed to meet. which is why you ended up walking through that door.’
‘yes, i suppose it really was fate,’ said tomomi, as though deeply moved.
‘people do contact the publisher from time to time. but akane doesn’t normally spill the beans,’
said nagare, eyeing tomomi curiously.
‘i suppose my fixation with this sushi must have won her over. i mean, i’ve been thinking about
it for fifty years. i’m just lucky i had that day off last week . . .’
‘it really was an obsession of yours, then,’ asked nagare, his voice tinged with admiration.
‘you know, i once dreamed of being a chef like you. making people happy with my cooking,’
replied tomomi. ‘not that my father would ever have let me,’ he added with a self-deprecating
look.
‘oh, it’s not just chefs who make people happy,’ said nagare with an air of certainty.
‘very true. that’s why i chose my current profession – because i wanted to make people
happy.’
‘good for you, i say.’
‘but in my line of work, we don’t always get to give people what they want. in fact, sometimes
we try and force something on them which they find downright unappealing.’
‘well, you know what they say: sometimes the bitterest medicine works best.’
‘exactly. the thing is, i only ever thought about it from the perspective of the person
administering the medicine. if you want to stay healthy, sometimes you have to swallow a bitter
pill – in other words, people should just sort of grin and bear things. i never stopped to think how
it might actually feel to be on the receiving end. i decided to remind myself just how important it
was to eat something you really like . . .’
‘and that was why you went looking for the mackerel sushi from your youth?’
tomomi answered nagare’s question with a simple nod.
‘this has made me see everything much more clearly. again, sorry for rushing you – but i
promise there was a reason for the hurry.’
‘well, that’s good to hear,’ said nagare, looking tomomi right in the eye. ‘serve people the
best food you can, and if the leftovers are less appealing, then eat them yourself. that’s the way
we’ve always done things here.’
‘sorry for the wait!’ said koishi, arriving with the sushi wrapped up in a paper bag. tomomi
took this as his cue to leave.
‘so, how much do i owe you?’ he asked, getting his wallet out.
‘we let our clients decide what to pay,’ replied koishi. ‘whatever feels right. just transfer it to
this account, please.’ she handed him a slip of paper with their payment details.
‘understood,’ said tomomi, sliding it into his wallet. ‘i’ll take care of it as soon as i get back.
with a little bonus for the express service.’
‘travel safely,’ said nagare, seeing tomomi to the door.
‘thank you,’ said tomomi, stepping outside the restaurant and turning to bow deeply.
‘i’m just glad we could help you,’ said koishi, smiling at nagare’s side.
‘well, goodbye then!’
tomomi began walking, but after a few paces came to a halt and wheeled around to face them.
‘i just remembered. that motto of haruko’s you mentioned. never lose sight of your ideals.
that was it, wasn’t it?’
‘bingo!’ said nagare, giving him a thumbs-up.
tomomi gave a quick bow, then turned and began walking. the shiny black sedan drew up
alongside him.
‘mr yamada!’ called nagare. tomomi started and turned around again.
‘please. we’re counting on you!’
nagare bowed his head slightly. tomomi smiled and nodded, then turned on his heel and
carried on walking.
‘mr yamada seemed very happy with that, didn’t he?’ said koishi, turning to face nagare.
‘great work once again, dad.’ she glanced down at her feet to find drowsy, who immediately
mewed at her.
‘don’t underestimate the power of a slice of lowly mackerel sushi,’ said nagare with a sigh.
‘that one dish might just have changed the future of the country, koishi!’
‘the . . . country? dad, you’re exaggerating again,’ she replied, thumping him on the back.
‘don’t get too full of yourself!’
‘never mind, then. let’s just look forward to that bank transfer, eh? right, time to tuck in to the
rest of that sushi!’
‘oh, dad, i wanted to ask. why did you make seven rolls of sushi, but only pick one?’
‘well, i was experimenting with the seasoning of the vinegar, the cut of mackerel, and how long
to marinate it. the second one from the right ended up tasting best. just because someone’s
nostalgic about a certain dish doesn’t mean you can get away with some sub-par imitation. if you
really want them to say, “ah, this tastes just like it did back then!” then it has to be truly mouth-
watering.’
‘oh, no. does that mean we’re having a load of sub-par sushi for dinner?’
‘i meant relatively speaking! i think you’ll find they’re all pretty delicious, actually. oh, that
reminds me. i picked up some nice sake in tosa. one’s called suigei, the other minami. i hear
they’re pretty special.’
‘brilliant! nothing like a bit of sake in the afternoon. still, dad . . . do you really think we can
get through a whole two bottles on our own?’ she seemed to be asking his permission for
something.
‘well, if it’s hiroshi you’re planning on inviting, at least get him to bring a tray of sashimi!’
‘how did you know?’
‘oh, it’s written all over your face. anyway, i’m a detective, remember? i don’t forget
important clues – like the fact that hiroshi also closes on wednesdays.’
‘real pro, aren’t you!’ said koishi, giving him another thump on the back.
‘just very good at reading what’s on my daughter’s mind is all.’
‘which is probably why i’m such a heavy drinker.’
‘hey, enough complaining! come on, help me get ready,’ said nagare, turning towards the altar
in the corner. ‘we can’t keep your mother waiting!’