2

in kyoto they say the real cold of winter only strikes after setsubun – the day in early february

when, traditionally, people scatter beans out of their front door to ward off evil spirits. as hideji

made his way down shomen-dori in the dusk, he couldn’t help thinking they were right.

from somewhere came the sound of an itinerant tofu seller’s horn. groups of schoolchildren, all

shouldering identical leather backpacks, cut right past him as they hurried home. it was as though

he’d slipped back in time to another era. hideji came to a halt in front of the kamogawa diner, his

long shadow stretching across the pavement.

drowsy the cat must have remembered him, because he came over and began curling himself

around his legs.

‘nagare been bullying you again?’ he said, leaning over and stroking the tabby’s head, eliciting

a soft miaow.

‘you’re early! hurry on in. it’s chilly out there!’ said koishi, sliding open the door and bowing.

‘you better let this cat in, or he’ll catch cold.’

‘i’m pretty sure cats don’t catch colds. anyway, dad’ll flip if he sees him.’

‘koishi! don’t let that cat in here!’ shouted nagare from the kitchen.

‘see what i mean?’ said koishi with a wink.

‘still do it every year, do you?’ muttered hideji as he removed his coat.

‘do what?’ said koishi, bringing over a pot of tea.

‘the bean-scattering ceremony. oh, i can just picture it: nagare out in front, chucking the beans

and shouting ‘devils out! fortune in!’, and you chiming in from behind. sticking to the old

traditions – you two are real kyotoites, aren’t you?’

‘but . . . how did you know?’ koishi seemed bewildered.

‘there are beans stuck in the sill of your door,’ said hideji, glancing sharply at the entrance.

‘really haven’t changed a bit, have you?’ said nagare, looking out from the kitchen in his white

apron.

‘sorry i’m early. just couldn’t wait. and at this age i can’t stand being in a rush.’

‘thanks for making the time,’ said nagare, bowing slightly from behind the counter.

‘i did exactly as you told me. i haven’t eaten anything since my usual cafe breakfast, early this

morning.’ hideji downed his tea in one gulp, perhaps in an attempt to stave off his hunger.

‘just give me ten minutes,’ called nagare.

‘so, things going smoothly with nami?’ asked koishi as she laid the table. alongside an indigo-

dyed place mat, she set a pair of cedar chopsticks on a holly-shaped chopstick rest. then she

placed a karatsu-ware bowl in the middle of the table, with a celadon-green spoon on the right.

‘handed in her resignation last week. she’s back in takasaki now. the boss was sad to see her

go,’ said hideji, fishing out an evening paper from the magazine rack.

‘bet you’ve been having to eat out every night.’

‘yes – that or ready meals from the convenience store. getting a little sick of it, to be honest!’

said hideji, lowering the open newspaper as he laughed.

‘hang in there. you’ll be in takasaki with your sweetheart before you know it,’ said koishi, her

eyes sparkling.

‘oh, i don’t know about that. getting a new father-in-law at my age won’t be a very sweet

experience, i can tell you.’

‘i guess that’s life, eh?’ said nagare, setting a woven straw pot stand by hideji’s place mat.

‘sometimes you have to take the bitter with the sweet.’

‘ah, here it comes. the moment of truth!’ said hideji, folding up the newspaper and sitting up

in his chair.

‘oh, leave the newspaper open. just like back in the day,’ said nagare as he headed back to the

kitchen.

‘how did you know i used to do that?’ asked hideji, blinking in surprise.

‘i haven’t shaken my old habits either,’ said nagare, flashing a grin over his shoulder.

‘you know, this feels like a scene from a movie,’ said koishi, glancing at the two of them.

‘two ageing detectives – partners from back in the day, reunited at last!’

‘hey!’ scowled hideji. ‘you could have left out the “ageing” part . . .’

‘koishi, could you come here a moment?’ called nagare from the kitchen.

‘looks like i’m doing the finishing touches,’ said koishi.

‘better do a good job!’ teased hideji as she walked off.

nagare murmured some instructions to koishi as she entered the kitchen. meanwhile, hideji did

as nagare had told him and began to scan the newspaper’s pages, though his attention was really

elsewhere. soon the fragrant aroma of the soup stock wafted through the air. hideji’s nose

twitched involuntarily.

‘it would have been a slightly different time of day, but i imagine something like this was on the

television.’ taking a seat opposite hideji, nagare pressed a button on the remote control. up on

the wall, next to the miniature shrine on the shelf, the television began showing the evening news.

‘you get home from work. you’re too tired to change your clothes, so you just slip off your

jacket, loosen your tie and sit yourself down at the low table. you unfold the newspaper, flick on

the television, and that’s when you notice that special smell coming from the kitchen.’ as nagare

painted this scene, hideji closed his eyes, his face turned up towards the ceiling. ‘it was the same

for me back then. i’d be so exhausted from work i’d be unable to lift a finger, so hungry i could

barely speak. i’d call out to kikuko, asking when dinner would be ready . . .’

‘oh, it was chieko who used to scold me,’ said hideji. ‘why put the television on if you’re not

even going to watch it, she’d say.’

‘i imagine you protested that watching it was part of your job.’

‘must have been the same scene in every detective’s house.’

after this back-and-forth had continued for a while, koishi called from the kitchen.

‘dad, i think it might be time to put the egg in!’

‘before you do that, could you sprinkle that stuff in the little ceramic jar into the pot?’

‘all of it?’

‘all of it. scatter it all over, then give the soup a good mix with the ladle. then whack the heat

up. simmer everything for a bit, crack the egg in, then turn the heat off and pop the lid on right

away. not tightly, though – leave it a little askew,’ instructed nagare.

‘timing’s everything with nabeyaki- udon, isn’t it? when chieko brought it out, i’d be so

absorbed in my newspaper that she’d shout at me.’

‘oh, i can imagine. “your noodles will turn to mush!” that kind of thing?’ said nagare.

‘here we are!’ exclaimed koishi, bringing over the steaming earthenware pot with a pair of

oven gloves.

‘what do you reckon? smells just like back in the day, i’ll bet.’

hideji leaned in and sniffed the pot, then backed off again before the steam got the better of

him.

‘oh yes. nami’s version never smells like this,’ said hideji, tilting his head to one side.

‘well, i hope you enjoy!’ said nagare, getting to his feet and heading back into the kitchen with

koishi.

hideji quickly joined his palms together in a show of gratitude for the meal, then lifted the lid

from the earthenware pot. fragrant steam billowed out. reaching for the celadon spoon, he began

by sipping the broth. he gave a deep nod, then turned his attention to the udon, raising them from

the bowl with his chopsticks before slurping them loudly. they were so hot he almost spluttered.

next, he fished some of the negi onion out from the bottom of the pot, arranged it on the noodles,

and inserted them into his mouth. he savoured a bite of chicken, then nibbled on the sliced

kamaboko. as he did so, hideji nodded approvingly.

a rush of warmth filled his body, freezing cold just a moment ago, and a light sweat formed on

his forehead. he extracted a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed at his brow and

cheeks.

next, as if only just remembering it was there, he picked up the prawn tempura with his fingers

and pinched it in two with his chopsticks, before inserting the head into his mouth.

‘ah, the egg,’ muttered hideji to himself with a smile. he was wondering whether to dip the

other half of his tempura into it. ‘choosing when to break the yolk. that’s the best part . . .’

nagare had reappeared at hideji’s side. ‘so? how is it?’ he sounded somewhat nervous.

‘incredible. tastes just the way i remember. this is how i asked nami to make it, but . . .’ as he

talked, hideji’s chopsticks seemed to keep moving of their own accord.

‘well, things can taste very different depending on how you’re feeling,’ said nagare, an

understanding look in his eyes. ‘i imagine you get all tense when you’re eating nami’s food.’

‘yes, you could say that,’ said hideji, dabbing his brow with the handkerchief again.

nagare sat back down opposite him. ‘i mean, i’m sure there are plenty of differences between

her version and chieko’s. but if you just relaxed a little more, you’d probably stop noticing them.’

‘okay,’ said hideji, his tone doubtful. ‘but this really does taste different. what kind of magic

did you use?’

‘not magic, hideji. deduction.’

‘is that so?’ said hideji, smiling in between mouthfuls of udon. ‘never could resist a good case,

could you?’

‘first, i investigated the soup stock – or rather, where chieko bought the ingredients for it. that

was my starting point. i paid a visit to the junenji temple area and talked to your neighbours.

seems you don’t talk to them much, but chieko certainly did. one woman in particular

remembered her very well. apparently they even used to go shopping together, at the masugata

arcade over in demachi.’

nagare spread out a map and pointed to the area in question with a pen.

‘oh, yes. with that famous sweet shop where people line up all day for the mame-mochi,’ said

hideji, glancing at the map with his chopsticks still in hand.

‘yes – that’s demachi futaba. and just next to it is the masugata shopping arcade. the locals

don’t shop at touristy places like nishiki market – they all go to masugata. seems that’s where

chieko got most of her ingredients. kombu and bonito flakes for the soup stock from fujiya,

chicken from torisen, vegetables from kaneko . . . she always got her ingredients from the same

places. the other housewives in the area still do all their shopping there, too.’

nagare showed hideji a pamphlet for the shopping arcade.

‘does it really make that much of a difference where you buy the ingredients?’ asked hideji,

relishing a mouthful of chicken.

‘oh yes. the individual differences might be small, but the combined effect in the dish can be

pretty noticeable. for example, when she bought ingredients for her stock from fujiya, she made

sure it was top-grade matsumae kombu, and combined that with soda bonito flakes and dried

mackerel flakes. then, when she was making up the stock at home, she’d add urume sardines to

the mix. chieko told your neighbour all about it, apparently.’

‘i never realized how much hard work went into that stock. nami just uses the powdered stuff –

no wonder it tastes so different!’ said hideji, picking up a shiitake mushroom with his chopsticks.

‘it’s not just the dashi stock. see that shiitake you’ve got there? chieko would take a batch of

them, dry them out in the sun, rehydrate them, and then boil them down with soy and sugar. that

way, when you bite into them, you get that wonderful burst of umami.’

‘oh, so it was shiitake she was drying in the garden? heck of an effort to go to, isn’t it! i think

nami just boils them raw,’ said hideji, admiring the flavour of the shiitake.

‘still, chieko didn’t have time to make udon by hand, or fry the tempura herself. you were too

impatient for that. instead she bought fresh noodles and prawn tempura from a little shop named

hanasuzu. tastes just like it used to, doesn’t it? the shop’s owner told me they haven’t changed

their noodle batter or the way they fry the tempura one bit in all these years.’

‘masugata, hanasuzu, fujiya . . . ah, i see! that was what she meant by masu, suzu, fuji. she

was running through the names of the shops she needed to stop by!’

‘she’d put the kombu in the earthenware pot, together with a layer of roughly chopped kujo

negi, then pour in the stock. once you were sitting down at the table, she’d turn on the stove.

when the pot came to the boil she’d add the chicken, and once that was cooked she’d loosen up

the udon noodles and add them. next, she’d add the kamaboko slices, dried wheat cake, shiitake

and prawn tempura. then, right at the end, she’d crack the egg in,’ explained nagare.

‘i should write this down,’ said hideji, reaching for his notebook, but nagare stopped him.

‘don’t worry, i’ll write it all out for you.’

‘i’ll have to pass the recipe on to nami.’

‘i should warn you, though. the stock won’t taste quite like this.’

‘what makes you so sure?’ asked hideji, looking unconvinced. ‘i can contact that shop and get

them to send the kombu and bonito flakes for the stock. it’ll cost a pretty penny, but i don’t mind.

nami knows how to cook, so she’ll certainly make good use of it.’

‘the problem is the water. we get soft water down here, but it’s a lot harder up north. that

makes it a lot harder to draw the umami out from the kombu. of course, you could always get

water sent up from kyoto too, but then it’d lose its freshness.’

‘different water, eh . . .’ said hideji, his shoulders drooping slightly.

‘hideji, let’s try a little experiment,’ said nagare, getting to his feet and opening the fridge.

from inside he took two cups of water and placed them in front of hideji.

‘try a sip of each.’

‘a and b?’ said hideji, looking at the labels on the cups. ‘is this some kind of test?’ he tried a

sip of each.

‘which tastes better?’

‘well, they’re both just water, aren’t they? but i think i prefer a. it seems . . . mellower,

somehow.’ hideji picked up the cup marked ‘a’.

‘a is water from a well used by a tofu shop near the masugata arcade here in kyoto. b is from

the miyamizu sake brewery, in your hometown of mikage. so it looks like you’ve got used to our

kyoto water, hideji. people always complain about the water when they move somewhere new.

but the water’s not going to change, is it? you have to adjust your cooking instead. if the water

tastes different in takasaki, you’ll just have to get used to that, too,’ said nagare decisively.

‘i see what you mean. still, i’m glad i got to try this nabeyaki-udon first. i suppose i should

savour the taste,’ said hideji, carefully scooping up some of the broth with his spoon.

‘you used to eat it almost every day in winter, didn’t you?’

‘chieko knew i loved it, and it was something delicious she could always whip up on a cold

day.’

‘she and kikuko really stuck with us, didn’t they? even when we were working day and night.

coming home at who knows what hour and demanding food like that – the cheek of it!’ nagare

said, looking down at the table.

‘come on, dad, don’t drag the mood down. hideji is supposed to be starting a whole new life,

remember!’ said koishi as she poured them some water. her eyes appeared slightly moist.

‘what’s this? tastes bitter,’ said hideji, retrieving a yellow scrap of something from his mouth.

‘that’s yuzu peel. i think she added it for the aroma,’ explained nagare.

‘ah, that makes sense.’

‘normally people just sprinkle it on top. but chieko knew you wouldn’t want yuzu peel on top

of your udon, so she hid it at the bottom of the pot instead. that way, if you mentioned the bitter

taste, she’d know you’d drunk the broth right to the bottom.’

‘nagare, i have to hand it to you. this was some outstanding detective work. it was exactly the

nabeyaki-udon i remembered,’ said hideji, setting down his spoon and pressing his palms together

in appreciation.

‘glad to hear it.’

‘so, feeling better about moving to takasaki?’ said koishi.

hideji nodded in response. ‘how much do i owe you for the detective service?’ he asked,

getting out his wallet.

‘oh, we leave that up to the client. just transfer us however much you feel it was worth,’ said

koishi, passing him a slip of paper with their bank details.

‘in that case, i’ll make sure to reward you handsomely,’ said hideji, putting on his trench coat.

‘i hope we’ll see you again soon,’ said nagare, walking him out of the restaurant.

‘i’ll be coming back to kyoto a few times a year to visit chieko’s grave. i’ll pop by then. just

make sure you have some more delicious grub waiting!’

as hideji left the restaurant, drowsy walked over and rubbed up against his feet.

‘be nice to nami, okay?’ said koishi, scooping up the cat.

‘hideji, you do know what gunma’s famous for, don’t you?’ nagare asked.

‘oh yes. cold, dry winds – and strong-willed women. that’s what people say, isn’t it?’

‘well, then, sounds like you’re ready,’ said nagare with a chuckle.

‘don’t go catching a cold now, hideji!’

‘koishi, you’d better settle down with someone, or your father will never find himself a new

wife,’ said hideji.

‘oh, you don’t need to tell me that,’ replied koishi, pouting.

just as he was about to set off, hideji turned around.

‘nagare, there’s something i wanted to ask.’

‘what’s that, then?’

‘that bowl of udon. it really did taste just the way it used to. but it seemed a tad . . . saltier,

somehow.’

‘must be your imagination. i made the stock exactly the way chieko did,’ replied nagare with

conviction.

‘right, my imagination. well, thank you, anyway. it was just how i remembered,’ said hideji.

‘take care of yourself, hideji!’ koishi called to hideji as he made his way back down shomen-

dori, now enveloped in the blue haze of the gathering dusk.

as hideji turned around, nagare bowed deeply and called out to him.

‘we’ll be wishing you and nami all the best!’

back in the restaurant, koishi began cleaning up.

‘i’m so glad he enjoyed that.’

‘moving to an unfamiliar part of the country at that age – and gaining a new father-in-law to

boot. it won’t be easy for him,’ said nagare, removing his white apron and draping it over a chair.

‘oh, he’ll have fun. the cosy life of a newlywed awaits!’

‘i don’t know, koishi. personally, i’m too old for anything like that. no, it’s kikuko all the way

for me.’

‘dad, you forgot to give him that recipe! he’s probably still in the neighbourhood – i’ll take it

to him.’

‘never mind the recipe, koishi. hideji can’t stay stuck in kyoto for ever. it’s time he moved on

from chieko and learned to enjoy nami’s cooking.’

‘but he might come back looking for it!’

‘don’t worry. i know what he’s like.’

‘i sure hope you do . . .’

‘anyway, it’s getting on for dinnertime. aren’t you hungry?’

‘let me guess: nabeyaki-udon again?’

‘nope. tonight we’re having udon hotpot!’

‘isn’t that basically the same thing?’

‘well, hiroshi called to say he’s got hold of some tasty akashi sea bream, and that he’d bring it

over for us. i thought we could have it as a hotpot.’

‘oh, so we’ll eat the sea bream hotpot-style, then add the udon afterwards? nice. by the way, i

wanted to ask – what was it you had me put in hideji’s soup right at the end? you know, that stuff

in the jar.’

‘instant dashi powder. he’ll need to get used to that stuff if he’s going to live with nami.’

‘so that’s why he thought the stock was a little saltier than he remembered!’

‘yes. if i can just get him to think that’s how chieko’s version always tasted, then even if

nami’s version is a little less . . . delicate, he shouldn’t notice the difference.’

‘but couldn’t you have just added it at the start?’

‘well, no – that would have ruined the stock for our hotpot tonight, wouldn’t it?’

‘trust you to think of a thing like that, dad,’ said koishi, slapping nagare on the back.

‘look – it’s snowing.’

‘oh! so it is!’

‘fancy sharing some sake while we watch it fall?’

‘ooh, i know just the right one for that,’ said koishi, extracting a bottle from the fridge.

‘ah, setchubai. “plum blossoms in the snow”. perfect, and not just because of the name. it’s a

little sweet, but it’ll go very well with the hotpot. kikuko would have loved it,’ said nagare,

looking fondly in the direction of the altar.