Just as Christmas doesn't end on December 25th in the west, Oshogatsu (Japanese New Year) keeps going well after the year has begun. Even once the traditional three days of celebrations are over and life returns to normal, there are things like shinnenkai (New Year parties), dondoyaki (bonfires fueled by New Year's decorations), hatsumode (first shrine visits of the year) for those who didn't do it in the first three days, and a host of other hatsu (firsts), like hatsugeiko (first practice or training), hatsugama (first tea ceremony), hatsushigoto (first day of work) and hatsuichi (first market). I'm sure we're not the only couple who makes up our own hatsus, some of which are not fit for sharing.
One day I always look forward to is January 7th, called jinjitsu no sekku (human day festival) or nanakusa no sekku (festival of seven herbs). The day is celebrated by eating nanakusagayu (rice porridge with seven herbs), which is standard okayu (congee or rice porridge) to which the seven herbs of spring are added. These herbs were traditionally gathered wild (remember that oshogatsu was celebrated in early spring on the old lunar calendar) but are now sold at supermarkets, and eating them on this day is said to bring good health all year. I've gone into more detail in previous posts, so if you're curious about what the herbs are or want a recipe, check this old post.
Like many people, I find this simple dish a nice contrast to the highly seasoned osechi (New Year's foods), rich food and ever-flowing alcohol served during the holidays. That's our nanakusagayu above, a bit on the thick side, served with sweet shrimp sashimi in mentaiko (spicy cod roe), sent from a friend in Toyama prefecture (famous for its shrimp) and kombu no tsukudani (soy-braised kelp).
The next occasion is kagamibiraki on January 11th. On this day the kagamimochi (ornamental mochi, or rice cakes, placed on a special altar at the end of the previous year) is broken and eaten. Traditionally the mochi was homemade and consisted of two large disks, placed on a small wooden alter and finished off with fern leaves, daidai citrus, and various paper decorations. In the old days houses were unheated and very dry and after a few weeks the kagamimochi would be hard and brittle, so breaking it was easily- and dramatically- accomplished with a swing of a mallet.
Modern homes are relatively warm and humid though, which causes the kagami mochi tends to get moldy before it dries out, much to the disgust of housewives who then have to carve the mold off of the shattered pieces before cooking them. A clever if unattractive solution is store-bought kagamimochi, which is encased in plastic and often comes with its own little altar and decorations made of cardboard and plastic. The mochi stays fresh and mold-free, and "breaking" it involves peeling off the plastic and cutting it up with a kitchen knife (which is interesting because it's traditionally bad luck to use a knife for kagamibiraki).
The mochi is usually toasted and added to oshiruko (sweet azuki bean soup), but my sweet tooth has completely vanished recently so we made it into isobeyaki (toasted mochi dipped in soy sauce and wrapped in nori seaweed).
We ate it with dinner, first with plain soy sauce then with yuzu-ichimi (chili pepper with yuzu citrus peel) and cheese, shown above in the middle, along with mizuna greens dressed with sesame, sauteed shimeji, eringi and shiitake mushrooms, yakishishamo (grilled smelt) and miso soup with kabocha squash and tofu.
Next up were prayers at the local shrine. This wasn't hatsumode for me as I had already been to Meiji Jingu with a friend, but it was a first for Hideaki. He has in the past occasionally skipped hatsumode altogether, but this is his yakudoshi (year of calamity). Maybe. There are a few ages that are considered very unlucky, different for men and women, and the system seems to differ slightly according to region and shrine. For men, age 42 is especially unlucky, and although Hideaki only turns 41 this year this still counts as yakudoshi. Apparently some shrines claim that that the years before and after the yakudoshi are also unlucky, and others use the old system of counting ages in which a baby is already one year old at birth. So for whatever reason he needs to be careful this year, and he made sure to do his hatsumode.
We were hoping to buy a talisman or something to protect him during the year, but it seems the only thing to do is pay the shrine a whole bunch of money so he could be blessed buy a priest. I had already gone through that a few days before at Meiji Jingu (for the blessing of a new business rather than for yakudoshi, but the ritual is exactly the same), and although it was an interesting thing to experience, it was also long, silly and boring. Once is definitely enough for me, and neither of us are that superstitious, so we were leaning towards not doing anything when he decided to buy himself an omikuji (paper fortune). He got daikichi (the highest good luck) and that clinched it- no need for a dumb shinto ceremony when his luck was ensured. Actually daikichi is often thought of as bad luck, since once the good luck runs out the only way to go is down. But in this case we figured the daikichi would balance out his yakudoshi and this would turn out to be an average year.
In late January the post office announces the winning numbers in their otoshidama nengajo kuji (New Year's postcard lottery). The nengajo (New Year's postcards) received in the first few days of the year usually come with a lottery number (shown at bottom left of the postcards above), and that number can bring a variety of prizes, from a TV or overseas vacation all the way down to a set of two commemorative stamps. We were hoping that Hideaki's daikichi fortune would ensure us a good prize, and although we did win three sets of stamps (our biggest haul ever), the better prizes alluded us.
I'm never sure what to do with these stamps- it always seems like such a shame to use them, but also a waste not to. I think this year I'll keep one set and give away two. So if any of you readers are a stamp collector, let me know and I'll send you a set.
And then the last two Christmas packages from my mom finally arrived, two months late. We don't know what went wrong- the fist box arrived in less than a week, but the others took forever to make the journey across the Pacific. It turned out to not be so terrible, since as I wrote earlier I was sick on Christmas and although Hideaki had just found out he had a job we still couldn't afford presents for each other (having spent all our money on a fancy Christmas brunch with family). I had been rather bummed about our non-Christmas, but in hindsight it was actually a great day, since news of a new job was really the best present we could have hoped for. Or second best, but I'm not quite ready to announce the other gift we got that day.
So having kept all the decorations up (that's our "tree" above) we had a wonderful Christmas in January, with a bunch of great presents from back home, a present each to each other, and stockings full of goodies (Santa knows all about Christmas in January, apparently).
And of course, Christmas dinner. I roasted a duck for the first time ever, thinking its small size would make it easier than the small turkey or chicken I usually attempt (like most Japanese kitchens, we only have a tiny convection oven). It turns out that roasting a duck is harder than it seems, because although it was relatively fast and easy, it wasn't nearly as good as expected. The skin was wonderfully crispy, which never happens with other whole birds in my oven, but the meat was tough. And although in the past I've complained about soft, flabby chicken skin, I now realize that tender, juicy meat is a thousand times more important than crispy skin. I don't know if it was the recipe, my oven, the bird itself or simply my lack of skill, but I don't think I'll be messing with a whole duck again.
Still, served with orange gravy, mashed potatoes and brussel sprouts, it was a nice festive meal and we were more than satisfied with our late Christmas.
The last holiday event was setsubun. Setsubun technically means "seasonal division" and falls four times a year, but in practice is only celebrated on February 3rd. The main activity is mamemaki (bean throwing), which is done to invite luck into the home and ward off evil. We skipped the ehomaki, a newish custom of eating a fat roll of sushi while facing the year's lucky direction, as we decided a few years ago that it's a dumb tradition- the store-bought sushi is never very tasty and eating the whole huge thing without talking is no fun at all.
So we just tossed roasted soybeans around the house (those are the tossed beans above) and Hideaki ate 41 of them, equal to his age this year, to bring good luck (I refrained as I hate eating the dry, tasteless beans). I wrote a bit more about mamemaki and ehomaki in this post a few years ago, so have a look if you're interested.
And now Christmas and New Years are finally over, Hideaki has become a regular overworked salaryman, and I'm looking forward to what is pretty much guaranteed to be a better year than last.
A few more holiday pictures can be seen here.
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