Article 012: Small Clumps — Auspicious Things and a Beginner's Year
Article Summary
To dodge successive planting failures in my cramped garden, I took my first shot at chorogi and Jerusalem artichokes.
Chorogi, the so-called lucky food, gave me nothing but miniatures—but red plum vinegar turned them a startling crimson.
Jerusalem artichokes, meanwhile, grew with zero fuss and yielded plenty.
Through tedious prep and the slow-dawning sense that "just shy of enough might be exactly right," I came to understand something about cultivation's hidden layers and respect for what we eat.
Category
Cooking, Spring, Winter
- I'm writing about one corner of Japanese food culture that's crossed my path.
I hope you'll read this the way you'd settle around banked coals—with quiet ease.
1. Crop Rotation Worries and Unusual Roots
My garden plot is tiny, and I keep planting the same things in the same dirt year after year.
So I started hunting for crops I'd never tried, hoping to break the cycle.
That's when I happened to spot seed tubers for "chorogi" and "Jerusalem artichokes" at the garden shop.
Since both were available, I decided to give them a go this season.
2. Chorogi and New Year's
Chorogi is nearly invisible in everyday life.
You might catch a glimpse of it at shops around New Year's, but that's about it.
I figured unless I grew it myself, I'd probably never taste it, so I took the plunge.
3. Jerusalem Artichokes as an Afterthought
Honestly, I chose Jerusalem artichokes because they were sitting right next to the chorogi.
Since I was already there, why not try two things instead of one?
4. Planting Day Arrives
The cherry leaves in my yard were soaking up spring sun.
Before planting, I wavered—should I dust the seed tubers with ash to ward off rot?—but ended up sticking them straight in the ground.
Whether that choice affected the harvest, I genuinely can't say.
5. The Lucky Charm Let Me Down
"Chorogi" gets written with characters meaning "long-life-joy," marking it as auspicious.
Still, to my eye it just looks like red silk cocoons.
That alone tells you how dull my sensibilities are.
I'd somehow assumed lucky foods would grow themselves into perfect shapes without much help.
But when I dug into the soil, the results fell well short of my hopes.
I kept pulling up these little clumps, and they were genuinely small.
"Did I dig too early?" "Why are they so much smaller than the seed tubers?" I started worrying.
The few larger ones I managed to find weren't nearly enough to make a decent dish of pickled chorogi.
I tried sorting through the small ones for anything shapely, but halfway through I just ran out of steam.
6. Jerusalem Artichokes for Beginners
The Jerusalem artichokes, on the other hand, grew visibly once planted.
Before I knew it they'd shot past my height, and I was genuinely surprised.
When I dug them up and saw the haul, I thought, "Yeah, I'll do this again next year."
Even as a beginner with minimal effort, I got a satisfying yield.
7. Making Red Plum Vinegar Pickled Chorogi
I pickled the chorogi in red plum vinegar for the first time in my life.
For someone as clumsy as me, the prep was more work than I'd imagined.
I washed them carefully, scrubbed dirt out of the grooves, and peeled off the thin skin.
It took real patience.
After rubbing them with salt and leaving them overnight, I submerged them in red plum vinegar—and within days they turned a beautiful crimson.
Seeing that color shift, I felt like I'd finally made the real thing.
The taste was genuinely good, but given all that effort, I understood why store-bought versions cost what they do.
Still, chorogi's unique texture is hard to forget.
That crisp bite, with faint bitterness and sweetness spreading through it.
It made me want to eat them every year as a good-luck food.
But knowing how much work goes into them, I decided that depending on next year's harvest, I might just order them online.
- Red plum vinegar:
The liquid that emerges when you salt-pickle plums, then steep red shiso leaves in it to transfer color and fragrance.
It's a fragrant byproduct of the umeboshi-making process.
8. Ways to Enjoy Jerusalem Artichokes
Jerusalem artichokes worked in tempura, plain frying, stews, and even raw in salads.
I found them mild and adaptable to just about any dish.
9. Next Year's Plans
Chorogi
I want to revisit the whole thing, starting with soil prep.
I'm hoping to figure out how to grow larger ones instead of all these tiny bits.
Getting anywhere close to the quality of commercial pickles will take more care than I've given, that much is clear.
Jerusalem Artichokes
I'm grateful for how easy they are, but next year I'll plant fewer.
Eating them daily is fine, but sharing them with neighbors takes some thought—worrying whether it's appropriate, honestly, wears me out a little.
I've come to feel that slightly less than enough is just about right.
10. A Beginner's Realizations
Through this season's growing, I learned that auspicious foods aren't necessarily easy to cultivate.
Conversely, some crops thrive with hardly any attention.
I also realized I want to take this year's lessons and aim for better harvests next time.
Especially with chorogi—I plan to rethink soil prep and growing methods from scratch.
11. Summary
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「つめのつち こうばいいろに しろきまゆ」
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[Tsoméno tsotsi kobaï ironi chiroki mayou]
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Tsé, Mets, Nos, Tsé, Chi, Coup, Bail, Iris, Nos, Ni, Si, L'eau, Qui, Ma, Vue.
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Pierre enrhumée, Le miel apaise, Souffle des cimes.
Related Links
Audio data (sound): 2025_012_ja01 (in progress)
Audio data (reading): 2025_012_ja02 (in progress)
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Article End
- I hope this brings small discoveries and a touch of nostalgia to your table.