Article 011: When Plum Scent Fills the Room

Article Summary

How fragrance shifts as plums ripen for preserving.

Watching fuzz push water away—the plum protecting itself.

Learning plum extract-making through repeated attempts and failures.

Curiosity about plums sung in the Man'yōshū, memories of temple lodging at Mount Kōya.

Charcoal smells nothing like plums, yet life gave us both.

Seeking balance between experience and knowledge: a record of one person's plum work.

Category

Cooking, Summer


  • I share here a scene from my everyday encounters with Japanese food culture.
    I hope you'll read this the way you'd sit near a fire that's mostly ash now, still warm.

1. Ripening the Plums


Green plums in a bamboo basket—first day after arrival

Every year, I look forward to how the preserved plums will turn out.

Yet once I begin, I find myself repeating the same mistakes, unable to retain all the lessons from before.

Plums, I've come to feel, are plants acutely sensitive to shifts in weather.

The year's climate shapes everything—the fragrance of the finished plums, the softness of their flesh.

With each round, I've grown somewhat better at judging plum quality during the ripening stage.

Green plums smell sharp in the morning—something like lemongrass, but not quite. Bright and sour-edged. The firmness of the fruit seems to announce itself through texture alone.

As ripening progresses, this scent transforms day by day.

Observing this evolution has become one of my small pleasures.

I know ripening's done when the smell gets heavy and sweet—the way apples smell when they're past perfect, or Kyoho grapes when the skin starts giving.

Go past this point and the skins tear when you press the stone on top.

This time, I'll speak about the initial stages of plum preservation.

In my household, we ripen the plums until their fragrance emerges fully.

Afterward, we soak them in water for about a day to remove astringency.

However, soaking too long causes browning and spoilage—caution is needed here.

The processes from salting to sun-drying will be covered in the next article.


2. The Fuzz on Plums


Yellow plums nearing full ripeness in a bamboo basket, and plums soaking in an enamel container. Scenes of handwork in preparation.

This time, I used Nanko plums from Wakayama Prefecture.

When plums arrive, they often carry considerable moisture from transport.

For this reason, I don't place them directly on the floor or counter. Instead, I transfer them promptly into containers with good airflow—bamboo colanders and such.

I try to expose them to air as much as possible.

First time, I didn't know. Left them in the box they came in. Bottom ones rotted.

From that failure, I learned that experience matters most in plum preservation.

During ripening, plums release substantial moisture.

Regular observation is essential to prevent spoilage.

What I focus on during this time is the fine fuzz densely covering the plum surface.

I check the fuzz to see if the plum's still good.


The state of fuzz during washing—the layer of air reflects light and gleams. Scenes of handwork in preparation.

Healthy plum fuzz traps air even underwater. A thin bright layer you can see when light hits it right.

The plum figured out how to keep water off itself.


3. The Man'yōshū and Plums

When I was younger, I preferred cherry blossoms.

Now, having accumulated years, I've grown fonder of plums—you can observe the progression of fruiting.

Plum flowers open. Bees move between them, legs thick with yellow. I stand there longer than I meant to.

Beyond that, watching the fruit gradually swell larger, resisting slugs and other threats—this too has become one of my great pleasures.

As my interest deepened through observing fruiting, I began researching plums in various ways.

I learned that among plants appearing in Japan's oldest poetry anthology, the Man'yōshū (compiled in the 8th century), plums are sung of in numerous poems.

I must have learned this in school, but I remembered none of it.

Now, bit by bit, the scenes evoked by representative works have begun to surface in my mind, however faintly.

The living conditions of that era must have differed greatly from ours today.

Even something like treating illness—the environment must have been incomparably harsher than what we know now.

Even then, people had space inside themselves to notice plum blossoms and write about seasons changing, feelings shifting.

The talent of people from that time strikes me as something deeply enviable.


4. Plum Orchards

Once, I visited Wakayama Prefecture's Mount Kōya (sacred site of Shingon esoteric Buddhism) and the Kumano Three Mountains (ancient spiritual grounds), both famous as plum-producing regions. However, I didn't reach any plum orchards.

Staying in the temple at Mount Kōya—mostly the morning chanting before light comes—that stays with me.

One day isn't enough to see everything, so next time I'd like to stay at least two nights and take my time.

When I visited, tourist numbers were modest—it was quiet.

Now, it seems the crowds have grown considerably.

Once things settle down, I'd like to visit again, combining pilgrimage with a visit to the plum orchards.


5. Plum Extract

Plum extract, I've learned, is a traditional food made privately since the Edo period.

Store-bought costs enough that I hesitate each time.

So I decided to attempt making it myself.

Looked simple when I read about it:

  1. Grate green plums using a ceramic grater and squeeze out the juice.
  2. Simmer the juice until concentrated.

In my case, I selected a small, deep enamel pot suited to the quantity being reduced.

And though starting a charcoal fire is arduous, I deliberately chose charcoal and simmered the juice slowly.

I managed the heat carefully to avoid scorching, stirred constantly with a wooden spatula to prevent spattering.

This wore me down more than I'd expected.

After all that, it just tasted sour. Nothing like what you buy.

Now I understand in my body why it costs what it costs.

Some things you need to try yourself before the knowledge means anything.

*When handling charcoal fires, sufficient ventilation and safety management are necessary due to risks of carbon monoxide poisoning and fire.


6. This Time's Summary

  • 「すみとうめ かをりちがえど うみのさち」

  • [Soumi to oumé, kaori tchigaédo, oumi no satchi]

  • Sue, Mis, Tôt, Humide, Qu'a、Au, Rit, Chi, Gars, Et, Dos, Ouïe, Mis, Nos, Sâ, Chi.

  • Cils de pierre, Nage de papillon, Parure d'arôme.



References

For references, please use the links below.

The sources referenced this time are: 工 01, 暦 01.


Audio data (sound): 2025_011_ja01(in progress)

Audio data (reading): 2025_011_ja02 (in progress)

Microsoft Clipchamp: Brigitte, VOICEVOX: 四国めたん

End of Article

  • I hope this brings something small to notice, maybe something you remember.