Writing Fukushima #8 The Pickled Herring Pots of Aizu Misato Town

Amber-colored sky

glows before it darkens —

the mountain pepper buds

(ameiro ni sora kurenazumu sanshō no me)

※sanshō no me: A spring season word. Buds of the mountain pepper (Zanthoxylum piperitum).

In May, when "sansho," the mountain pepper plant, comes into bud, every household in the Aizu district makes pickled herring with it. Fresh fish has always been difficult to come by in Aizu, hemmed in as it is by mountains, so dried herring became a prized source of animal protein. The aromatic new pepper leaves disguised the herring smell and at the same time acted as a preservative, while "sanbaizu" (a mixture of vinegar, soy sauce and sake) added its own preservative qualities. The dish became an essential item in Aizu cuisine.

The herring is pickled in an Aizu Hongo pottery herring pot. In the past, such pots were always part of an Aizu bride's trousseau. Aizu pottery can trace its roots back to the late 16th century, when the feudal lord Gamo Ujisato brought roofers from Satsuma in southern Japan to make roof tiles for his Crane Castle, Tsurugajo. There was good clay to be had in Aizu Hongo so it developed into a pottery producing area. The golden age of Aizu Hongo pottery was in the 1880's, and at that time there were 100 potteries and 40 climbing kilns (nobori-gama, a type of multi-chambered kiln built into a hillside), but at present there are only 13 potteries and 2 climbing kilns. I visited the Munakata Pottery,* which owns one of kilns. It is the oldest climbing kiln in Tohoku but part of it was completely destroyed in the earthquake of 2011. However, volunteers decided to rebuild it and two years later, in May, it was up and running again.

Toshihiro Munakata, the eighth head of the family, showed me around. The kiln, which consists of seven chambers built one above the other into the side of a hill, dates from the early 18th century. Seen up close it was much larger than I had imagined and put me in mind of the proverbial sky climbing dragon. When fired up, it must make a scene of overwhelming power and intensity. "The style of the kiln becomes the style of the pot," Mr. Munakata told me.

During the postwar period of rapid economic growth, Aizu Hongo pottery of necessity became mass produced. Mr. Munakata explained what this meant for the potters, saying, "With mass production one must focus on flaws and defects, but for good things you must work slowly and look for the beauty. Sometimes it is in the flaw or the defect itself."

At the workshop, Mr. Munakata's wife Mariko served us matcha green tea. The tea cups were Aizu Hongo pottery of course. Herring pots made by Mrs. Munakata and by Mr. Munakata's mother and grandmother were arrayed on shelves along the walls. They are called pots but in fact are square-cornered, to accommodate the fishes' shape. Five slabs of clay are joined together to construct it, which was considered rather simple to do, so the work up to that point, I was told, was traditionally done by women while keeping house. At present, Mariko Munakata is the only woman in Aizu Misato Town who still makes herring pots. One pot can pickle 20 herrings at a time. With the unaffected lustre of its amber brown glaze, it has a solid, dignified presence.

I asked Mr. Munakata why they were all amber brown. "It was a process of elimination," he explained, adding that the amber glaze is resistant to both vinegar and salt. Compared to other glazes, it also cracks less when used, so the problems of the fish oil seeping into the pot or the pickling liquid leaking from it are minimized. In other words, it is ideal for keeping the pickled herring in the best of conditions. Pottery breathes, and its subtle adjustments in response to temperature and humidity make for a delicious pickled fish. This is a utensil which is rooted in the climate and customs of Aizu. Aizu Hongo pottery, concluded Mr. Munakata, is an expression of the Aizu personality, "Plain on the outside, solid within."

The pickled herring I ate at Aizu was so delicious that I could not resist buying a herring pot for myself. "Pottery is alive, it grows and changes over time." Mr. Munakata's words fill my mind as I wait for the sansho pepper to come into bud.

* Munakata Pottery Herring Pots

In 1958 a herring bowl made by the 6th generation head of the Munakata family, Toyoi Munakata won a Grand Prix at the 1958 Brussels World Expo in Belgium.

Haiku and text: Madoka Mayuzumi

Translation: Janine Beichman

Photo credit: Fukushima-Minpo Co., Ltd.

First publication: 8 April 2014, Fukushima-Minpo Newspaper