“The world of wagashi is vast,” said Kazuo Aoyama, the third-generation owner of Kikuzuki, a sweet shop operating in Yanaka for nearly 90 years. Aoyama, 87, has made wagashi, traditional Japanese confectionary sweets, for 70 years. At Kikuzuki, run now by his two sons, every step in making his exquisite wagashi—even soaking, boiling, and mashing azuki beans to make the sweet red bean paste anko—is still done by hand.
“Nowadays,” said Aoyama, elegant in his steel-grey kimono, “most wagashi shops buy ready-made or processed anko from a wholesale company. There are just a few shops left that do everything the traditional way.”
Wagashi has been a Japanese delicacy for hundreds of years. Its variations are endless. Anko can be nestled in a bun, covered with glutinous rice, layered between wafers, surrounded by white bean paste, even wrapped in a cherry leaf. Wagashi are often shaped and colored to represent a flower or another seasonal symbol. But creating an entirely new wagashi, not a variation on a theme, requires the skills of a master craftsman and the sensibilities of an artist. Aoyama created two entirely new wagashi—an astonishing accomplishment.
Recognized by Taito Ward and the city of Tokyo as a master artisan of wagashi, Aoyama garnered many awards, but he seems particularly proud of the poem written by the famous haiku poetess Teijo Nakamura about one of his original creations, the green plum ao ume wagashi.
The framed haiku, which hangs among other placards and certificates on the shop wall, roughly translates: ”It is only in Bungo you get plums as plump as this wagashi.”
This charming confection, with its delicate shades of green, is Kikuzuki’s best seller. Under the soft skin is not anko, but shiromiso-an, a white bean paste sweetened with Kyoto miso. The filling has the same pale gold color and texture as a ripe plum. When you bite into the sweet, you would swear that it has a plum taste, but this is an illusion.
Aoyama’s other original creation is his ambrosial yuzumochi. This soft, gelatinous sweet contains the peel of yuzu, the deliciously scented citron.
To make yuzumochi, the shop buys every December some 1500 yuzu—a year’s supply—from a grove of ancient trees in Ogose in Saitama. “The fruit is not very beautiful, but it’s the most fragrant in Japan,” explained Aoyama. “We throw away the pulp and juice and only use the peel. If the peel runs out, we stop selling yuzumochi.” He shrugged his shoulders and said with a smile, “It’s a crazy way to run a business.”
This shop is about a ten-minute walk from Nezu station, up toward Yanaka cemetery. You can sample both sweets with a bowl of freshly whisked bitter green tea in the shop in a small café section.
Kikuzuki (03-3821-4192), 6-1-3 Yanaka, Taito Ward. Closed Tuesdays.
Here’s a list of some of my favorite wagashi shops around Tokyo.
Kotobukido (0120-480400 Free dial), Koganei imo, 2-1-4 Nihonbashi Ningyocho, Chuo Ward. Closed Sunday.
Toraya (03-3408-4121), Seasonal wagashi and yokan, 4-9-22 Akasaka, Minato Ward. Outlets in most major departments.
Shimura (03-3953-3388), Tsukumo mochi, 3-13-3 Mejiro, Toshima Ward. Closed Sunday.
Itakuraya (03-3667-4818), Ningyo yaki, Nihonbashi Ningyocho 2-4-2, Chuo Ward. Closed Sunday and holidays.
Chomeiji Sakuramochi (03-3622-3266), Edo-period Sakuramochi, 5-1-14 Mukojima, Sumida Ward. Closed Monday.
Tokutaro (03-3874-4073), Kintsuba, 3-36-2 Asakusa, Taito Ward.
Usagiya (03-3831-6195), Dorayaki, 1-10-10 Ueno, Taito Ward. Closed Wednesday.
Mangando (03-3622-3128), Imokin, 1-19-16 Azumabashi, Sumida Ward. Closed Sunday.
Habutae Dango (03-3891-2924), Habutae dango, 5-54-3 Higashi Nippori, Arakawa Ward. Closed Tuesday.