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“A wedge of autumn melon the color of apricots with a honeyed scent you catch from three feet away. A shallow lacquered tray of rust red, laid with eight individual dishes. Yoghurt in a thin glass dish; a single teardrop of deep-red syrup and a tiny green leaf float on its surface. A deep-black raku bowl of okayu, the soft and soupy rice to gently lull us out of sleep. A triangular dish of pickled vegetables and a single umeboshi plum. A white bowl of chilled black hijiki seaweed and soybeans. A pretty dish painted with wisteria flowers of the softest, stickiest silken tofu the color of the pages of an old book, decorated with a single yellow chrysanthemum flower and a lump of fresh wasabi the size of a pea.” — Nigel Slater
A wedge of autumn melon the color of apricots with a honeyed scent you catch from three feet away.
A shallow lacquered tray of rust red, laid with eight individual dishes. Yoghurt in a thin glass dish; a single teardrop of deep-red syrup and a tiny green leaf float on its surface.
A deep-black raku bowl of okayu, the soft and soupy rice to gently lull us out of sleep.
A triangular dish of pickled vegetables and a single umeboshi plum.
A white bowl of chilled black hijiki seaweed and soybeans.
A pretty dish painted with wisteria flowers of the softest, stickiest silken tofu the color of the pages of an old book, decorated with a single yellow chrysanthemum flower and a lump of fresh wasabi the size of a pea.