The Japanese Knife Ceremony and Fish Fermentation: Remnants of the Distant Past
Hōchō shiki, and Narezushi. These two Japanese traditions, originating from around the Edo period and the 10th century respectively, have all been mostly lost to time. Narezushi is only practiced by a few remaining families that possess the recipe, who have been doing it for the past 400 years, and the Hōchō shiki, or Knife Ceremony, is now only practiced in rare special events at museums or cultural festivals. According to Eric Rath, author of Food and Fantasy in Early Modern Japan, “The art of the medieval chef is practiced only on very rare occasions in Japan today, such as at certain shrine festivals and at educational venues like the opening of a museum exhibit about food culture”(1, p. 42). Both of these traditions are rarely seen anymore outside of extremely limited events, and the techniques and recipes are still kept secret or no longer exist. But why were these traditions forgotten, yet other traditions from the same time such as the tea ceremony are revered as pillars of Japanese culture and practiced very much to this day?
In order to answer this question, and rework both of these into a modern context, I teamed up with my roommate, Kevin Toledo, who was also planning to rework and investigate the history of fish-related Japanese traditions, those being sushi and onigiri, to purchase an entire fish, and use as much of it as we could to not be wasteful.
The first problem we faced was what fish to procure. We already knew that the fact of needing a whole, uncut fish would limit our options, but they were even more limited than we expected. The most popular candidate for a Hōchō shiki, Carp, wasn’t available whatsoever, but not only that, we couldn’t find any Yellowtail or Tuna either; Tuna most likely because the kind we were looking for for sushi would be way too big to sell to normal consumers whole. Because of these limitations, we settled on Salmon, as even though it hasn’t even been in Japan for more than 40 years, it is often compared very similarly to these other fish, and is one of the most popular fish choices for sushi in the modern times. On top of this, we were also able to find a really nice one for an affordable price.
Next was planning for the Hōchō shiki, the main thing that I would be taking care of. While it may have seemed simple, just cutting up a fish, there were a lot of steps I needed to take to be as accurate as possible, with the little information that I had. While Rath mentions that techniques and procedures for the Knife Ceremony were recorded by many chefs in texts such as the “Secret Writings on Culinary Slicing”(1, p. 45), I was not able to find the full text that he described, so I wasn’t able to reference it for specific methods of slicing outside of the descriptions from the book included in the chapter, which only referred to a specific preparation method for Carp, the aforementioned most popular choice for these ceremonies. However, I could glean the basic general information of “In a knife ceremony, a chef, with great formality and ritual, carved a large fish or game bird into a visual display similar to a flower arrangement”(1, p. 38). This not only told me that it needed to be very formal and artistic, but also that the final product had to have meaning. I also referenced the specific techniques that he talked about, but because they were so specific to the anatomy of a Carp and were only for one specific preparation method, I had to adapt a bit to not only the anatomy of the salmon, but my own artistic vision. For even more information, I also looked up videos of the most recent demonstrations at museums and cultural events, two of which I have linked in my sources. These videos provided me with a visual guide for movements, attire, the size of the cutting board, attitude, and so much more.
After all of this research, I began the preparations for the event. The first thing that I needed to address was the proper clothing for the ceremony. While I had a hakama in my possession, it isn’t necessarily the exact simple and formal style that traditional chefs would use, and because 1: it wasn’t available, and 2: I am not nearly as skilled or religious enough to be able to wear a Kanmuri, which is the Shinto priest headdress that the chefs in the videos wear, I did not wear one of those either. In the end I settled for the hakama and tabi that I had in my possession, and a chef’s shirt, that were normal for an average chef in Japan, but not nearly as formal as the robes worn in the presentations at the museums.
My Manaita Setup
Onto the actual ceremony itself, it is meant to be performed sitting down, with a massive cutting board near the floor(a Manaita). I was able to find a cutting board large enough for the ceremony, but not necessarily as large as the traditional one. Both because it would be way too expensive, and the only ones that seem to exist are in museums!
As far as the movements before cutting and during cutting in the ceremony, they are extremely precise, and not only that, they are performed with very specific tools, such as the long knife and metal chopsticks, in a manner that is supposed to purify and liberate the dead animal. Due to my not being a Buddhist or Shinto priest, and this process if done religiously leading to the meat not being meant to be consumed, I think I’ll take some liberties and say that I am doing more of a reconstruction of the long since phased out tradition. For the sake of as much of an accurate and faithful ceremony as I can do, I was able to find metal chopsticks as described in the chapter of Rath’s book and seen in the video, but they don’t have the religious Buddhist markings on them. Most importantly, the knife is the very essence of the ceremony itself, and luckily, I already have a handcrafted high quality knife made in Japan that I can use, that is similar enough to the ones traditionally used in the ceremony.
The specific aspects of the ritual I focused on recreating were the portion before the actual cutting begins, and the cutting and sculpting itself. This beginning portion was a more religious part of the ceremony as well in which specific movements are made with the knife and the metal chopsticks to ward away bad spirits and karma, to in essence justify and purify the nature of how the game animal was killed. The Cutting ritual not only “functioned as a type of karmic prophylactic for the chef, who regularly took the lives of creatures, and for the people who consumed his meals”(1, p. 51), but was also meant as an art form of sculpture, to also represent a specific scene from famous poets or artists. To recreate this, I closely watched the videos and practiced, recreating the movements until I could remember them all. As far as the actual cutting goes, from the videos and descriptions of the ceremony, the actual gutting and making food-safe of the fish was done beforehand, so the fish on the table is simply removed from the skin and deboned, or in some cases, simply sculpted with accurate cuts.
Finally, after performing the first part of the ceremony, I had to recreate some sort of scene or traditional shape in my sculpting of the fish. Since I also needed to save some of the fish for the purpose of Kevin’s sushi making process, I planned to go with a more simple wave scene, mimicking the traditional artistic views of the ocean in Japan to the best of my ability. In the end, due to my lack of ability, I only did a simple display of all the fish had to offer, to in a sense celebrate and evoke a feeling of a bountiful harvest. Here is the video that Kevin recorded of the ceremony in two parts, from the start to the final presentation:
From here, I began my process of first separating the skin, and then finally cutting the fish into cuts that Kevin could use for the nigiri, maki, and onigiri. To be as efficient as possible, I organized the cuts into ones big enough for nigiri slices, thin ones for the long maki pieces, and any remaining edible parts into a pile for the onigiri.
Between my part and Kevin’s, I had the unique task of doing something similar to fermentation on a sample selection of the fish, and then comparing it to the fresh raw slices. While Narezushi was technically the most traditional and accurate method for this, it was out of the question. According to the article describing Narezushi, “For the past 18 generations, one family has preserved a 400-year-old recipe showing how sushi once tasted, and it doesn't use raw seafood, but fish aged for three years”(4). Since we didn’t have 3 years, I had to think of something else. However, while Narezushi was originally made “In a time before refrigerators, [where] families relied on rice and salt to ferment and preserve the fish -- usually stored layered in barrels -- in the hope of saving it for as long as possible”(5), in the Edo period, fermentation was no longer necessary, and "The newly bottled seasonings of fermented rice vinegar and soy sauce were used to recreate the essential sour, salty and rich taste of funazushi in the fresh seafood that was caught in Tokyo Bay”(4). This practice was also reflected in the documentary Kevin is using for his sushi side of the project, in which the chef Jiro uses a very short method of “fermentation” to prepare the fish, by soaking it in vinegar for a few hours. Since we did have a few hours, I used a small container to soak pieces of the fresh salmon in vinegar, and then while I was recording and taking pictures of Kevin’s sushi preparation process, I compared the “fermented” sashimi to the fresh raw sashimi. Surprisingly, the salmon that had been soaked in vinegar became somewhat harder, and seemed like it had been cooked. Unsurprisingly, it only tasted like vinegar. However, supposedly, this would have been similar to how the Narezushi, fermented with only salt and weight placed on top of it, would have tasted after the years long process.
Finally, reflecting on the whole experience, I wondered again, why did these traditions get almost lost to time? According to Rath,
“Unlike its medieval contemporaries—flower arrangement and the tea ceremony, which have successfully been adapted to modern life—an art that focuses on slicing animals on a wood table, transforming not only carp and sea bream but also protected species like crane into delicate slices, does not easily resonate with modern sensibilities. It is difficult to appreciate in the same way that a display of flowers or thick tea in a fine ceramic bowl can be appreciated”(1, p. 42).
However, just as other traditions have evolved and changed over time, so could the Hōchō shiki, and the process of fermenting fish. And plenty of people go to a sushi restaurant just for the spectacle of seeing the skilled chef cut the fish in front of them, so what makes this tradition any different, besides the religious aspects? Rath does also mention that at the time “Knife ceremonies could be appreciated as an art not simply for the various designs created from fish and fowl but also as a type of seated dance”(1, p. 39), and I think that this form of appreciation could definitely still exist today. While the religious aspects of this ceremony were not only hard to replicate, but dubious in nature, as Buddhism already has a huge problem with killing animals in the first place, they aren’t necessarily inseparable from the tradition, whose name simply means “Knife Ceremony”. While I myself felt sorry for the fish as I was cutting it up and turning it into a theoretical work of art, and I could see the possible karmic benefits of believing that this would ward off those bad feelings, the nature of the ceremony wasn’t just a religious gesture, but a celebration of skill, a way to entertain guests with a form of “seated dance”. This tradition, more fantasy than food, could embrace both, and could even be extrapolated as not just a tradition lost to time, but the source of all knife work performances by professional chefs in Japanese restaurants today. While my recreation and rework of this tradition certainly was somewhat unskilled and far from completely accurate, as described with all of the information and resource-related limitations, I believe that in the hands of a professional chef or passionate Japanese historian, this tradition could be connected and revived, and told in a new context than the one it slowly withered away in.
To see the other half of the project, go to Kevin’s article here: Sushi: A Timeless Classic
Bibliography:
1. Eric Rath. (2010). Food and Fantasy in Early Modern Japan. University of California Press.
2. Kyoto-Nara Dream Trips. (2014, December 31). Hōchōdō knife ceremony at the 109th exhibition of Kyoto Cuisine. [Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YUsdjHcUpcI
3. Vermeulen, H. V. [Harry Vermeulen]. (2013, December 14). Japanese sacred ceremony to prepare fish for emperor. [Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z5-_MTTE2Rs
4. Schiller, T. (2022). Funazushi: The fermented predecessor of modern sushi. Bbc.com. Retrieved 6 April 2022, from https://www.bbc.com/travel/article/20210616-funazushi-the-fermented-predecessor-of-modern-sushi
5. Springer, K. (2022). Narezushi: Japan's original sushi. CNN Travel. Retrieved 7 April 2022, from https://www.cnn.com/travel/amp/narezushi-sushi-japan/index.html