For us, the most important aspect of spending the night in a Japanese ryokan is the elaborate dinner that’s served at the end of the day.
Even though our previous stay at Shiraume was six years ago, we still vividly recall the amazing Kyoto kaiseki we had the privilege of enjoying there.
That meal was the highlight of our trip, and we were looking forward to reliving the experience this time round.
We had saved the best for last, and planned to cap off our 12-day Kansai vacation with a delightful dinner.
Yukatas were provided and we changed into them after a relaxing bath in one of the private on-site ofuros. The long and hot soak really helped to get our digestive juices flowing.
By the time we got back to our room, crisp white linen was already laid out on our dining table, together with an elegant and traditional table setting.
Eight courses would be served that night, comprising an appetiser, soup, sashimi, a grilled dish, a fried dish, hot pot, rice and dessert.
The menu description was as minimalist as they come, but we knew from experience that the food would be anything but.
I was tempted to order some sake to go with the meal, but having enjoyed 32 glasses over the past two weeks, it was high time my liver got a break.
We still wanted to keep our choice of beverages local. I ordered a cold “Tama Usagi” gyokuro tea while The Wife went with the “Kinshimasamune” yuzu cider.
Our server for the night was Sahoko-chan, a kawaii kimono-clad young lady from Mie prefecture.
She was clearly a recent hire, still learning her way, but whatever awkwardness she displayed was more than made up for by her earnestness and sincerity.
The first dish she delivered was an artfully-presented appetiser of razor clam with a long list of spring mountain vegetables.
Plated in an impressively large half shell were raw slices of clam and a multi-coloured ensemble of fiddlehead fern, cod bud, horse tail, Japanese garlic, white asparagus and happy bean.
Except for the fiddlehead fern (warabi), the rest of the vegetables were alien to us. That didn’t stop us from enjoying their crunchy texture and clean flavours though.
The razor clam itself was slightly chewy, delicate tasting and paired well with the green, yellow, pink and purple sansai (山菜).
Soup came next, and it was light and refreshing. The warm, umami-rich broth came with a chunky piece of snapper, a sprig of rapeseed (natane) and a mugwort (yomogi) cake.
Surprisingly, the snapper was semi-dried instead of the usual freshly-sliced version, resulting in a firmer bite. The rapeseed provided a pleasant bitterness, while the mugwort cake imparted a familiar herbal note.
Overall, it was a very interesting combination of flavours that we had yet to encounter in Japanese cuisine. Something not immediately pleasing, but one that grew on us after several mouthfuls.
The next course, in the other hand, was thoroughly familiar. In fact, it’s one of our firm favourites and something that we actively look out for at sushi restaurants.
Yellowtail was written on the description card, but they weren’t just your average run-of-the-mill hamachi. They were thick and juicy slices of kanburi (寒鰤), a winter specialty with a rich flavour and high fat content.
We each got three pieces, together with minced radish, a blob of wasabi, cucumber flower and aromatic perilla flowers.
I plucked the tiny purple buds off, dropped them in the shoyu and made a perfect dipping sauce for what turned out to be the best kanburi that we’ve ever had.
Just as we were regretfully polishing off our last slice of sashimi, the assorted grilled dish arrived. It was plated beautifully, just like its predecessors.
The sweet seabream, rice cracker, cherry flower-shaped radish, dried sea cucumber, mountain peach, sweet beans cake in three colours and salmon with egg yolk looked like they belonged in a display cabinet.
Of all the components on the plate, the mountain peach (wakamomo) intrigued us the most. It was the first time we’d heard of it, let alone tasted it.
We struggled to identify it on the plate and did a double take when Sahoko-chan pointed it out. Despite its name, it didn’t look at all like a peach. If anything, it resembled an oversized green olive.
The taste was equally eye opening, like a combination of plum, grape and, of course, peach. Firm and sweet, with a friendly tartness.
It was the halfway mark of our culinary marathon and Tomoko-san, the elegant proprietress of Shiraume dropped in for a chat.
She shared interesting titbits about the architecture of her ryokan, including the story of how they discovered a hidden room in the attic that had remained undiscovered for decades.
Like before, she also regaled us with her past exploits. Previously, she had shared her corporate life in the US before she returned to Kyoto to take charge of the inn.
This time, she recounted a hilarious anecdote from her youth, involving a monk, a kitten and a box. I won’t spoil the surprise, and will let Tomoko-san share it with you herself.
When our next course was served, she bade us farewell and gracefully exited.
Compared to the earlier dishes, the fried dish looked austere and almost industrial. On a black stone slab was Japanese butterbur, some homemade ham and some new onion sauce.
Butterbur (fuki) was yet another ingredient that was completely new to us. It was earthy with a touch of bitterness. Definitely an acquired taste, but one that agreed with our palate.
A wave of anxiety washed over us as we watched Sahoko-chan gingerly transport our hot pots. Thankfully, she managed to set everything up without a hitch and lit our mini stoves before taking her leave.
The shabu shabu was simple and comprised bamboo shoots, fresh spring wakame seaweed and Kyoto beef, together with hot dashi to swirl them in.
Needless to say, the heavily-marbled wagyu tasted fantastic, but the star of the show was actually the fresh wakame.
The black pieces of seaweed took on a bright green hue as soon as they entered the broth. The effect was quite striking and the science experiment-like effect was very entertaining.
We had too much fun and spent too much time with the shabu shabu. So much so that Sahoko-chan had to replenish the gel fuel of our hot pots not once, but twice.
I imagine that she must have been quite relieved when we were finally done, so that she could clear the cooking utensils and bring in our rice course.
It was the penultimate dish, and signalled that our dinner was finally coming to an end.
After presenting the claypot with the individual ingredients, she moved it to a side table and mixed the cooked rice, spring beans, sakura shrimp, fish eggs (karasumi) powder and sansho pepper shoots (kinome) together.
Once she was done, she scooped out a bowl for each of us and served it with miso soup and assorted pickles (tsukemono).
It was both filling and flavourful, with the tiny kinome leaves adding an unexpectedly spicy kick. There was plenty to go around, and we refilled our bowls until the claypot was emptied.
Food coma had started to set in, but we kept it at bay until after we polished off our dessert of vanilla ice cream, mochi, sweet beans, strawberry and Okinawa mango puree.
Our menu, including the respective course descriptions, was compiled in a small paper folder, with our names in both English and Japanese.
Mine was written in vertical cursive katakana as アルビンリー, which Google Translate pronounced as Arubinrī. Now I know what to use if I’m ever asked for my name in Japan.
Two and a half hours after we started, our Kyoto kaiseki dinner at Shiraume had finally come to an end.
The food and service were just as good as we remembered, made even more special since we were staying in the same Umeichirin room on the second floor.
It definitely took us back to the first time we stayed there six long years ago, in the autumn of 2018.
