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[The Story of Korokke]

The three major Western-inspired dishes of the Taisho period were tonkatsu (pork cutlet), curry rice, and korokke (croquette). Surprisingly, it is said that korokke was once considered a higher-end dish than tonkatsu or steak. While korokke is now one of the most familiar side dishes in Japan, its roots lie in Western cuisine.

Korokke is a Western-inspired Japanese dish originating from the French "croquette," which was introduced to Japan between the late 19th and early 20th centuries. When it was first introduced as Western cuisine during the Meiji period, it was regarded as a luxury food. While the typical Japanese korokke is made of potatoes and minced meat, the original French croquette was a deep-fried, breaded dish made with béchamel sauce (white sauce), beef, or seafood. In the Taisho period, versions using affordable potatoes spread widely, and as the name evolved into "korokke," it became a beloved dish in ordinary households.

When thinking of korokke, many people might picture a butcher shop. The background to this lies in Tokyo after the Great Kanto Earthquake. The butcher shop "Choshiya" in Ginza is known as a shop opened by Seiroku Abe, who was originally a chef at a Western-style restaurant. Butcher shops could make effective use of minced meat and lard, and by combining them with cheap potatoes, they were able to offer freshly fried, substantial side dishes at an affordable price. Through these clever adaptations, korokke became a staple item at butcher shops and spread as a food for the general public. Today, it has become recognized as a Japanese dish and has even entered the global lexicon, often written as "korokke" overseas.

Choshiya, founded in 1927, still continues its business in Ginza today. Its famous korokke bread comes in two varieties, using either koppepan (sub rolls) or sliced white bread, and its hamu-katsu (ham cutlet), menchi-katsu (minced meat cutlet), and katsu sandwiches are also highly popular. Additionally, regarding the origin of "korokke soba," which has become a staple at standing-style soba shops, there is a theory that it originated at the long-established soba restaurant Yoshida in Ginza (founded in 1885 and closed in 2025). It is fascinating to realize that Ginza was a hub where the cutting-edge culture of that era gathered.

By the way, have you ever heard of "Typhoon Korokke"? This is an internet culture where people buy and eat korokke when a typhoon approaches, which spread from a post on the online forum 2channel in the early 2000s. It later became firmly established through Twitter (now X) and has become a seasonal tradition that trends every time a typhoon nears. With the upcoming typhoon season, it might be a wonderful idea to spend some time at home enjoying some korokke.

Choshiya in Ginza 3-chome is open from Tuesday to Friday. On a Friday, why not visit our Ginza Showroom in the Okuno Building in Ginza 1-chome along with it, and experience a nostalgic glimpse of the Showa era?

Ginza Showroom
https://www.shokunin.com/en/showroom/ginza.html
Choshiya
https://maps.app.goo.gl/FwMG8hMuLRSF9Fdf7

References
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/コロッケ
https://shinise.tv/choshiya-ginza/
https://www.plenus.co.jp/kome-academy/roots/public.html

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[After the Microwave Broke]

It has been a few months since our microwave broke. We hadn't been using it that frequently, but there was one thing that became a problem. That was defrosting rock-solid frozen rice.

Freezing the extra rice cooked at night and defrosting it in the microwave on busy mornings or at noon. This was no longer possible. For a while after the microwave broke, I used the frozen rice as it was to make zosui (rice soup), or of course, steamed it in a seiro to defrost it, but both methods took a bit too much time, which left me feeling somewhat unsatisfied.

So, I shifted to a new approach: moving the frozen rice I want to use in the morning or at noon to the refrigerator the night before to slowly half-defrost it, thereby reducing the time it takes to steam. Furthermore, by using a "wa-seiro" (Japanese-style steamer), specifically "Kurikyu's Magewappa Seiro", I was able to keep the steaming time relatively short.

When defrosting two servings of frozen rice in our home, I lay baking paper at the bottom of the seiro, put the half-defrosted rice right in, and steam it. Since it is frozen in a square shape, the trick is to occasionally check on it and break it apart with a shamoji (rice scoop) so it heats evenly. Once it is about half-defrosted in the steamer, I add an egg and steam for another 6 minutes or so. This way, a soft-boiled egg is ready at the exact same time the rice is done steaming. Although it depends on the amount of rice, on this day, it took about 13 minutes in total from the time the water boiled and the seiro was placed over the pot.

The strength of a wa-seiro is that because of its height, even if you put in a bulky portion of frozen rice, it doesn't touch the lid, and the steam circulates thoroughly inside. In addition, the thick, heavy wooden lid completely traps the heat and steam inside, allowing the heat to reach the core in a short time. Moreover, its humidity control is excellent. Because the wooden lid absorbs excess water droplets, water doesn't drip down and make the rice soggy. Only the optimal moisture required by the rice circulates inside, restoring the plumpness to every single grain.

Also, the wa-seiro, made of natural Akita cedar wood, has outstanding heat retention. The thick wooden lid and the body store heat and keep it piping hot for a while, so there's no need to rush to eat. Defrost the frozen rice in the fridge from the night before, steam it all at once in the wa-seiro the next morning, and bring it straight to the table like an "ohitsu" (wooden rice container). This is our family's new routine after the microwave broke.

The breakdown of the appliance was unfortunate, but thanks to it, I was able to review my daily preparation and utilize the further potential of the wa-seiro, which I already found handy for cooking. Using a seiro doesn't mean I'm being particularly meticulous; as a result, being able to effortlessly establish a new routine for defrosting rice in our daily lives has been a great takeaway. In my kitchen today, where the form of convenience has changed, I am once again realizing the joy of mastering tools.

Kurikyu's Magewappa Seiro
https://www.shokunin.com/en/kurikyu/seiro.html
Wadasuke Seisakusho's Rice Scoop Holder
https://www.shokunin.com/en/wadasuke/shamoji.html
Azmaya's Rice Scoop #6.5
https://www.shokunin.com/en/azmaya/miyajima.html

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[Japanese Blue and Indigo Dyeing]

The Japanese perception of color has developed uniquely, differing from the Western concept of "hue." There is a theory that in ancient times, colors did not represent the color of fixed substances but were words describing the intensity of light or the state of things. The bright clarity that bursts forth at the moment dawn breaks was called "aka" (brightness), while the darkness that envelops and hides everything was called "kuro" (darkness). The appearance of things manifesting clearly was perceived as "shiro" (manifestation), and the sky and sea that spread infinitely with ambiguous boundaries were viewed as "ao" (vagueness). In this way, colors were understood in connection with the changes in nature.

On the other hand, during the Asuka period, colors also took on institutional meanings. In the Twelve Level Cap and Rank System, colors were used as indicators of rank, functioning as social symbols. Concurrently, a perspective that values the transitions of nature was continually maintained within the Japanese sensibility. In the imperial court of the Heian period, "kasane no irome" (layered color combinations) developed to express seasonal changes through clothing color schemes. Dressing elegantly in attire appropriate for the season and occasion became refined as a part of one's education and culture. During the Heian period, rich color names unique to indigo dyeing, such as "hanada" (light indigo), "kon" (navy blue), and "ruri" (lapis lazuli), were created, and the color blue spread widely from aristocrats to samurai, and eventually to commoners. In the Meiji period, Westerners discovered the color of indigo dyeing in the streets of Japan and dubbed it "Japan Blue." Today, it is known worldwide as the blue that symbolizes Japan.

The characteristic of indigo dyeing lies in its unique dyeing technique. Since indigo, the main component, is insoluble in water, it must be fermented and reduced by the action of microorganisms to transform it into a water-soluble state. Fabric immersed in the dye solution through this process oxidizes when exposed to air, developing a blue color. Through this process of "reduction and oxidation," indigo dyeing produces deep shades through repeated dyeing.

In Japan, a dye called "sukumo" was developed. Made by fermenting and maturing the leaves of Japanese indigo (tade-ai), this dye was lightweight and suitable for preservation and transportation, becoming the foundation that supported "koya" (dyehouses) across the country during the Edo period. As a result, indigo dyeing penetrated deeply into the lives of commoners. Indigo dyeing is also said to possess practical functions such as antibacterial, insect-repellent, deodorizing, and flame-retardant properties. Due to these characteristics, indigo-dyed garments served as protective clothing for farmers, artisans, and "hikeshi" (firefighters) to safeguard their daily lives.

Furthermore, indigo dyeing has the characteristic of "color maturing." The more it is used, the more the color gradually settles, creating a unique texture. The sensibility of viewing this change as value rather than degradation shares something in common with modern indigo dyeing. Born from indigo leaves, turning into blue upon contact with air, and deepening in maturity over time, indigo dyeing can be described as a technique that embodies the Japanese perception of color—living while accepting the changes in nature.

Currently, at the Ginza Showroom, Indigo Classic's T-Shirt is on display. While having a solid thickness, it has minimal contact area with the skin, making it less likely to stick, allowing the wind to pass through the garment, and providing a dry wearing comfort even in midsummer. You can truly experience its tough practicality every time you put your sleeves through it. Since it is hung on a hanger, please take a close look at everything from the silhouette of the shirt to the length of the sleeves and hem.

Indigo Classic's T-Shirt
https://www.shokunin.com/en/indigo/
Indigo Classic's Stole
https://www.shokunin.com/en/indigo/stole.html
Indigo Classic's Handkerchief
https://www.shokunin.com/en/indigo/handkerchief.html
Showroom Information
https://www.shokunin.com/en/showroom/

References
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/アイ_(植物)
https://www.nikkei.com/article/DGXMZO79312250V01C14A1TBP000/
https://pixy10.org/archives/post-7433.html
https://indigoart.lp-web.net/about-indigo/
https://iroai.jp/indigo/
https://www.zaboblue.com/blog/aizome-blog03.html
https://www.gov-online.go.jp/eng/publicity/book/hlj/html/202010/202010_06_jp.html