Delights of Kyushu (7): Mizutaki dinner at Suigetsu (水月), Fukuoka

Very sad it's our last night in Japan, but we decided to end this trip with more positive foodie memories at least. There was one more Hakata dish on my bucket list, and that's what we did - 水炊き mizutaki or chicken hotpot. A brief online search brought my attention to the restaurant where it all started - Suigetsu - and fortunately we were able to get a reservation just a week in advance with the help of our hotel concierge, immediately after our arrival in Japan.

You might be wondering - what's so great about a chicken hotpot anyway? We need to start with a brief history of this dish; surprisingly, its origins are not Japanese, but lie in both Chinese and Western techniques. Heisaburo Hayashida, a Nagasaki native, had travelled to Hong Kong in his youth, where he lived with an English family and studied Western cooking. After returning to Japan, he combined the technique of making consommé with the Chinese method of simmering chicken in water to create a clear soup that would be the basis of mizutaki. In 1905, Heisaburo came to Fukuoka and founded Suigetsu restaurant, specialising in this hotpot dish which he called mizutaki. Seasonal vegetables were also added to the soup throughout the meal, and he finished by adding rice to create a Japanese-style porridge known as 雑炊 zosui. The fame of this dish quickly spread throughout the country, and is well known by its alternative name 博多に Hakata-ni. Traditionally a winter dish, mizutaki is now enjoyed all year round by locals and tourists alike.

Suigetsu remains a family business to this day, run by Heisaburo's son Tomio and grandson Saburo. It is located in a rather inaccessible part of town, along a narrow street about 20 mins' walk away from the nearest subway, but I'm glad we took the trouble.

We had asked for the more expensive (but still very reasonably priced) set (6,700 yen before service and tax) when making the reservation. A whole array of side dishes was served in quick succession after we were seated. The lovely elderly lady serving us explained each of these side dishes with great earnestness as she brought them to our table.

(Almost) the full package!

First up, a cloudy Japanese sake (rice wine) infused with a tinge of cherry blossoms, very seasonally apt and poetically named 'hanami-sake' (lit. for sakura-viewing).

Next, shredded chicken skin in ponzu sauce with spicy oroshi (grated radish) and spring onions. The skin, completely skimmed of fat and boiled, had a very unusual firm and gelatinous texture, and the resulting bite made this cold starter surprisingly refreshing, without a tinge of the cloying greasiness that one usually associates with skin. Both the sauce and the oroshi reinforced this clean and fresh feeling, while the finely-chopped spring onions imparted delicate flavours and aromas. This was an absolutely unexpected palate-cleanser of sorts!

The sauce, which would re-appear very soon as the dipping sauce for the ingredients of the main hotpot, was no ordinary ponzu; one of the defining condiments of mizutaki, this was entirely blended in-house using soy sauce and the juice of daidai (bitter oranges) from nearby Itoshima. These oranges are naturally very tart and are grown over at least a year, typically reaching their peak amidst the severe cold of December to January. For maximum sweetness, the oranges are hand-squeezed one by one by the kitchen staff, and each fruit is never squeezed more than once, to avoid drawing out excessive bitterness and astringency. The oranges may be harvested all year round, but as their acidity varies according to season, the taste of the resulting sauce has to be constantly checked and adjusted by the kitchen staff.

Next, certainly a first for both of us, sashimi of chicken with offal (liver?). The idea of eating raw chicken might gross some people out, but this was in fact very fresh and delicate in flavour, with a mild sweetness, and absolutely tender. Obviously, you cannot make sashimi out of just any chicken. It is worth mentioning that the chicken used in Suigetsu (including the cooked dishes) is not only free-range (known as jidori 地鶏 in Japan) but also of a very special breed known as satsuma-jidori 薩摩地鶏, cultivated in Kagoshima Prefecture.

This chicken breed was even designated as a Natural Monument of Japan in 1943, and is one of three major jidori breeds alongside hinai-dori 比内鶏 and Nagoya-cochin 名古屋コーチン. Such chickens can only qualify for their titles if they are at least 50% purebred in relation to their respective native breeds; verification and certification processes are strict in order to preserve the purity of the lineages.

At Suigetsu, only young male satsuma-jidori a few months of age (i.e. spring chickens) are used. The males are characteristically aggressive and hence notoriously difficult to breed, but their meat is particularly prized for its sweetness, elasticity and colour. You could say that these chickens are the poultry equivalent of Kobe beef.

We also had cold white sesame tofu with soy sauce and freshly grated wasabi. Nice firm texture typical of this kind of Japanese tofu used in shojin-ryori cuisine (精進料理), though not quite as intensely nutty or aromatic on the palate as I was expecting. Still, very pleasant.

Finally, the heaviest of the starters: iwashi 鰯 (sardine) done nanbanzuke (南蛮漬け) style, in which it is first fried then marinated in vinegar and other spices, and finally dressed with leeks and other vegetables, similar to a Mediterranean escabeche. This was in fact a very Chinese-style dish with a familiar strong and spicy taste, perfect for building up to the main hotpot proper. The fish had a lovely moist texture, but also quite a lot of small bones - the only thing that prevented me from enjoying it completely.

While we were enjoying the starters, our waitress brought this out for the main hotpot. Raw minced chicken never looked better, mixed with egg and grated yama-imo (mountain yam) for a smooth and creamy texture.

We were fully expecting to cook our own food, so imagine our surprise when our elderly server stayed with us for the entire duration of the meal, cooking and introducing the proper way to eat mizutaki!

First, before starting to cook any of the raw ingredients, she placed a pinch of sea salt each into two teacups, filled it with the basic chicken broth that had started to boil in the meantime, and asked us to sprinkle chopped Hakata spring onions from a separate dish to taste, according to our preference. The result was an aromatic, creamy and tasty broth that had a slight bitter edge (from the sea salt I believe). It was indeed surprising what complex flavours such an apparently simple soup could have. Imagine how much better it would be after having cooked the rest of our meal in it!

Our waitress then dissolved a large block of collagen (essentially thickened and refrigerated chicken broth) into the soup, and started off by cooking cabbage and chicken thigh on the bone.

The main vegetable of mizutaki, most restaurants nowadays use 白菜 hakusai (Napa cabbage) as it contains more moisture to dilute their saltier or artificially flavoured broth. However, Suigetsu uses normal white cabbage kyabetsu キャベツ which does not contain as much moisture, as its milder broth is flavoured only with the natural taste of chicken. Also, this cabbage only needs to be cooked for a short time, thus preserving its crunch and delicate sweetness, as compared to hakusai, which is usually boiled for a longer time to extract all its moisture, losing its crispness and flavour in the process.

This first bowl of chicken and cabbage was stellar. All too often, chicken becomes extremely dry and tough compared to other meats, but this was absolutely tender and succulent. The cabbage was, as expected, extremely crunchy and sweet. The cooking broth had enhanced the flavour of both ingredients very effectively. Absolutely fresh and delicious when eaten with a small pool of broth mixed with the homemade ponzu (which had appeared earlier accompanying the starter of chicken skin).

A few more bowls of this chicken and cabbage followed, and when we had more or less finished, our waitress started making and cooking perfectly-shaped meatballs from the minced meat that was in the earlier tray, along with pieces of boneless chicken and a few large strips of leek.

Both artful and serious in her work.

Smells so good I can hardly wait!

As the meatballs started to float, the rest of the vegetables, including shimeji and enoki mushrooms and shungiku (chrysanthemum greens), and pieces of silky tofu were added to the hotpot and cooked a little at a time. The meatballs take quite a while to cook through because of their size, so while waiting we had a few more rounds of boneless chicken and vegetables, which take considerably less time to cook.

More bowls with skin-on boneless chicken, leek, mushrooms, tofu, and shungiku (commonly known as tang-oh in Singapore). There was no doubt as to the freshness and quality of all the ingredients, and even the chicken skin in its natural form was light, smooth and flavourful with no trace of fat (in case you're being health-conscious!). The second picture also contains a dash of homemade yuzu-kosho on the top-right side of the bowl; this was the condiment I had grown to love in this Japanese region, for its fresh aroma and delicate spiciness.

It is also worth noting that our waitress had even thoughtfully plated each serving that she gave to us. Every bowl we received was as pretty to look at as it was to eat. Such meticulousness even with the humblest ingredients spoke volumes about her pride in, and dedication to, her work.

Just before serving the meatballs, our waitress left us briefly to bring our last side dish: a very rich and aromatic chicken gratin. This unashamedly Western dish with cheese and potatoes was a fitting tribute to the founder's foreign culinary roots. It did seem somewhat incongruent with an outwardly traditional Japanese establishment, but such is the accepting nature of this region's people to external influences. With something so delicious and decadent, I certainly wasn't going to complain anyway!

Done - finally!

You could say that these meatballs were the pièce de résistance of this hotpot. They were incredibly tender and juicy, and had soaked up all the flavour from the broth. The egg and grated yam in the mince imparted a lovely freshness and richness to the meatballs when cooked. Everything here is indeed so natural and tasty, with very little need for seasoning except for the excellent homemade ponzu and yuzu-kosho if necessary. Great ingredients speak for themselves.

With that the main hotpot was finished, but we were not quite done yet - the remaining broth would be used to cook rice for the last dish of zosui 雑炊 or Japanese-style porridge. You already know this would be good judging from the concentrated flavour of the broth by now! We had also drunk a few cups of the broth so far, which had clearly become tastier and richer (particularly after the addition of collagen) as the meal progressed.

Beating and mixing an egg into the broth to further
enhance its taste and thicken its texture.

Dressing simply with chopped spring onions.

Just lovely - this was so simple and wholesome, yet also incredibly rich and tasty! I could see myself eating this everyday. I think I must have had about three bowls!

We were already filling up quite nicely, but there was one more dessert to go - how could we resist this quintessentially French crème caramel anyway? The vanilla custard was very smooth and rich, and its intense flavour was matched equally by the caramel sauce, which had an aptly charred edge to prevent the whole dessert from becoming too sweet and cloying. Like the earlier chicken gratin, this was remarkably authentic, and in general the co-existence of very different culinary styles within this meal was the perfect manifestation of the melting pot (pun intended) of cultures which had originally shaped the founder's outlook, and laid the foundation for an iconic Hakata dish.

I couldn't possibly leave without a photo with our lovely waitress - she had made our last evening in Japan so personal and special with her gentle grandmotherly demeanour, and I almost felt like we were having our own grandmothers cook for us. To the uninitiated, this intensely watchful style of service might prove a little too close for comfort, but just know that the staff really want you to understand and enjoy what you're eating.

A few final pictures of the by-now empty restaurant; we were the last customers to leave as we had started relatively late at 7.30 pm.

Our waitress showed us all the way out, pointed out to us quite excitedly the cherry trees that were about to bloom in the neighbouring courtyard, and didn't go back into the restaurant until we had turned our backs and got out onto the main street. I have never failed to be impressed and touched by Japanese omotenashi, and I am so glad we spent our final evening here. What a wonderful way to end this trip - I cannot wait to be back in this country of lovely people and exquisite cuisines!

Address in kanji: 福岡市中央区平尾3丁目16-14 (20 minutes' walk from Yaku-in 薬院 subway station)

Tel.: (81) 92-531-0031 (reservations compulsory in Japanese)

Open daily for dinner 5 - 10 pm (last order 8.30pm), except Mondays and over the New Year period.

Delights of Kyushu (6): Dinner at Yatai Mami-chan (屋台まみちゃん), Fukuoka

You cannot leave Fukuoka without having eaten at one of the numerous 屋台 yatai (roadside food stalls) which are distributed throughout the city centre, and have collectively shaped the city's street food culture. There are an estimated 200 of them, and they mostly open in the evenings from about 6 pm till late. Standards vary so choosing the right one can be a bit of a gamble. Fortunately as I was doing my research, online reviews mostly seemed to point towards this one stall run by a lady Mami-chan, near the Tenjin train station. 

As these yatai do not have a specific address, we were initially concerned that locating Mami-chan's tent might be a bit of challenge. The streets around Tenjin station (a major interchange) are indeed filled with many yatai, but thankfully we didn't have to try too hard; the distinctive red-and-white noren caught our eyes from a distance just as we had left the station.

Mami-chan's yatai was indeed very full when we got there (compared to her competitors along the street, some of which were even empty or half-full), but very soon, having been alerted to our presence by an existing customer in the tent, Mami-chan herself emerged to receive us and to make space by the counter where we could squeeze in. From the outset, she came across as an extremely friendly and outgoing person.

This would probably be the most informal of my Japanese foodie experiences. Even the suffix chan (instead of the more formal san) after Mami's name was intended to reinforce that impression. Each yatai seems to be a world of its own, transporting customers back to the days when unpretentious street food in somewhat gritty environments was the norm under more modest economic circumstances.

We sat literally shoulder-to-shoulder with our fellow diners - this is not for claustrophobics, surely - around the counter where Mami-chan and her husband did everything from preparing ingredients to cooking them and washing the dishes thereafter as they accumulated. It was quite refreshing to note, especially in a paternalistic society like Japan, that the bubbly Mami-chan was clearly the star of the show here, with her more reticent husband playing the role of assistant.

The tent was very small but remarkably well-equipped. Part of the fun of eating at a yatai is being able to observe the cooks and interact with them. The couple's multi-tasking appeared effortless and coordinated, and they could even engage in lively banter with their Japanese customers as they went about preparing all their different orders simultaneously. There was no way I could make out what was being said at that speed and with a very distinctive accent (possibly a dialect of some sort), but the overall atmosphere was extremely convivial and we felt immediately at ease despite the lack of personal space.

Squeezing so closely together actually provided some welcome warmth amidst the chilly draft constantly blowing in through the vents of the semi-covered tent, and also due to the latter the cramped space was surprisingly well-ventilated (though obviously one can't avoid smelling like a barbecue pit at the end of a meal in a yatai, sitting so closely to the action). There were no major issues with food hygiene as far as I could see; I usually avoid eating at roadside stalls in Asia because of this concern, but I do have faith in Japanese standards of cleanliness, as an exception.

Mami-chan's grasp of English is quite basic but the menu comes with multiple translations so there shouldn't be any problem ordering food. We started off with a full glass of plum wine out of a Tetra-Pak (couldn't make out the brand) as recommended by Mami-chan. Almost everyone around us was having it as well. This was very pleasant - sweet, full of lovely plum aromas and great for keeping warm in this chilly weather (but not overly strong in terms of alcohol content).

Chicken wings, chicken skewers and pork knuckles.

We weren't expecting this, but even before we had finalised our orders Mami-chan's husband presented us with complimentary chicken wings hot off the grill. These were very well-seasoned and tasty, and the meat was very tender and juicy. Perfect comfort food to start the dinner proper! We even got a second round of these delicious wings before our first dish arrived!

Our shishamo!

These surprisingly large 柳葉魚 shishamo (smelt) had a really pleasant chargrilled flavour and moist texture, with lots of tasty roe in their bellies as expected. You are supposed to eat them whole by the way, bones and all, just like sardines. A typical Japanese starter that goes well with sake, if you're in the mood for the latter.

Another feature of yatai - the おでん oden tray especially during the winter. This is a stew of several ingredients such as boiled egg, daikon radish, コンニャク konnyaku (konjac), and fishcake in a light dashi broth. Basically the Japanese version of the Singaporean yong tau foo. I reckon this stew would warm the body up very nicely, though we were looking to try slightly more unusual/interesting items.

The roasted 豚足 tonsoku (pig's trotters, or feet) are another signature yatai dish. Very similar in look to roasted pork knuckles and often confused with the latter, this is in fact derived from the lowest part of the leg, and not the larger upper shank. We are not really a fan of German pork knuckles to begin with because we find them too huge, heavy and greasy for our taste. Also, braised pig's trotters exist in Chinese cuisine too but I find those extremely slimy (due to large amounts of skin), chewy and unpalatable. However, these pig's trotters on the grill looked a lot more appealing so we decided to go ahead with one portion to share, just to see how different it is in the Japanese context.

So here we had roasted 豚足 tonsoku (pig's trotters) with spring onions and a touch of 柚子胡椒 yuzu-kosho (a special Kyushu condiment made from chili peppers, yuzu peel and salt). Unlike their German knuckle counterpart, the trotters here are cut into small bite-sized pieces for ease of consumption, instead of being served as one whole intimidating chunk. The trotters are also a lot less greasy compared to the upper shank end, and I really liked the crunchy gelatinous texture of the tendons and ligaments of which they are mainly comprised. The skin was nicely browned and crisp, while the bits of meat were tender and moist. I should add that this dish is very high in protein and collagen too! The yuzu-kosho condiment (one of my favourites) lightened things up further with its characteristic spiciness and fresh aroma. This was indeed the first time I had gone through this part of the pig and actually enjoyed it - remarkably well-balanced in both texture and taste.

Huge slab of grilled pork.

Great chemistry between the couple.

That was our gyoza in the wok - can't wait!

Next up, 餃子 gyoza (pan-fried pork dumplings), which Mami-chan makes to order on the spot. Not the most shapely-looking but absolutely juicy and delicious. The pork filling was really generous while the skin was very thin and crisp.

Making our the different parts of our omu rice simultaneously.

Cooking, entertaining and receiving at all once.

Omu rice (the Japanese spelling of 'omelette rice') - rice fried with tomato ketchup and chicken, wrapped in a thin sheet of omelette. This substantial portion was both comforting and filling. Very tasty but fortunately not too heavy, due to the tanginess of the ketchup. I had no idea why Mami-chan decided to scribble that on the spot after she served it to us - probably one of the few English words she knows haha! What a lovely sense of humour!

Grilled onigiri, a popular filler for the Japanese
but basically just plain mounds of rice.

How could we leave this yatai without having had some authentic Hakata-style tonkotsu (pork bone broth) ramen? This was truly abundant and flavourful, with firm noodles, thick slices of tender roast pork, a rich milky broth resulting naturally from hours of boiling the pork bones, and other accompaniments to enhance the taste and aromas of this noodle dish. I thought this was much better (and certainly cheaper!) than the ramen served at the supposedly famous Ichiran chain. We had visited a branch of the latter near our hotel a few days ago and found it extremely underwhelming; that broth was surprisingly bland, and the roast pork and other accompaniments were meagre in portion. Forget the novelty of purchasing your tickets from a machine and eating your noodles in a cramped cubicle-like space with no human interaction; you might as well come to Mami-chan!

Mami-chan even found the time, amidst all her cooking and washing, to volunteer to take a picture for both of us! She was such a fun, warm and friendly person.

Chicken skewers on the grill.

Multi-tasking!

We were already starting to fill up after all those carbohydrates but couldn't resist two last side dishes. This was ヨツミ yotsumi (chicken thigh) on skewers, very similar to the Singaporean satay albeit a much bigger and chunkier portion with no sauce, in order to allow the natural flavour of the meat to come through. These chicken skewers had been perfectly seasoned and grilled, and they were extremely succulent and tasty. Had they not come after the rice and noodles, we would definitely have gone for seconds (or thirds!).

Mami-chan was really animated. I wish my Japanese were better to understand what she was saying at breakneck speed!

Preparing our last dish of grilled eggplants: I found the cooking method rather unusual. A large leaf of cabbage was put over the eggplants, presumably to lock in their natural juices, and ensure even roasting throughout.

The skin comes off readily when the eggplant is cooked.

And there you have it, chopped into thick strips and dressed very simply with bonito flakes, sesame and spring onion. I really love how the Japanese cook their eggplants, very different from the greasy Chinese casseroled version with salted fish. The accompaniments here imparted deeper flavours and aromas to each bite without masking the eggplants' naturally delicate sweetness and juicy/creamy texture. This was a wonderfully light, fresh, and tasty way to end the dinner.

Complimentary sweet after the meal, distributed by Mami-chan out of a box to everyone around the counter - the famous 面白い恋人 omoshiroi-koibito (lit. 'interesting lovers') wafer from Osaka with a cream filling. Nice.

A group of men (presumably locals/regulars) appeared quite amused that I had been taking pictures throughout the meal, and gamely offered to pose for a photo towards the end. Such is the welcoming and friendly nature of a yatai, even if your fellow diners are complete strangers or speak a different language. Food really does bring people together!

Mami-chan loves taking pictures of and with her customers before they leave, to be shared on her online photo album (look for your photo if you have been here previously!). No need for fussy data protection or privacy laws here. Satisfied customers are her best endorsement, and we were only too happy to oblige!

Notably, her yatai is probably also the only one to have its own website - not as polished-looking as some swanky restaurant page for sure, but already much more advanced than her competitors. Great for business, as well as for promoting yatai culture.

The street just outside Tenjin Station, filled with yatai.

Mami-chan is extremely foreigner-friendly but her yatai is no tourist trap either; the food is genuinely good, and anyway on this evening we had been the only foreigners together with another Western couple who came in midway through our meal. The rest of the diners were mostly local regulars such as salarymen, who to me are the best proof of any Japanese establishment's authenticity and quality.

As expected of these informal eateries, prices are also extremely reasonable - if I were living here I could see myself coming everyday like I go to my regular coffeeshop or hawker centre back in Singapore. The bill for all this food came up to a mere 3,400 yen, and Mami-chan even offered to 'round it down' to 3,000 yen (dirt cheap for 2 people by any standards!) asking us to visit her yatai's website and to tell all our friends about her... which is exactly what I'm doing with this post! Highly recommended for folks on a shoestring budget (just come even if not!) who want to experience Fukuoka's indigenous food culture in a welcoming and lively atmosphere.