Travel
In coastal Kochi in southern Japan, searing strips of skipjack tuna are both a fiery spectacle and the city’s culinary emblem.
ByFarida Zeynalova
Published January 25, 2024
This article was produced by National Geographic Traveller (UK).
My eyebrows are both intact. My cheeks, however, feel like they’re being kissed by the fire of a thousand suns. Sweat beads are dancing on my upper lip and my contact lenses feel like they’re melting into my corneas. Chisato Miyata, our tuna roaster, remains entirely unfazed by the stifling, foot-long flames. Then again, she has been doing this for over 30 years. In front of me is a larger-than-life poster with semi-threatening dos and don’ts: ‘Do not spin the skewered bonito!!!’, ‘Skewer is very hot!!!’, ‘Please eat with wasabi or salt first!!!’
It’s midday in Kochi, an agricultural city on Shikoku, the smallest of Japan’s four main islands. I’m at Katsuobune Tosa Tataki Dojo, a casual, roadside restaurant/market shaped like a giant fishing boat, its outer walls covered in cutesy, colourful flags and paintings of boisterous cartoon fish. On the ground floor, there’s a kaleidoscope of delicious souvenirs: sweets, cakes, sake and jams, while upstairs, in the searing room, I’m learning how to prepare Kochi’s specialty, the bonito roast.
This beloved dish, known locally as katsuo no tataki, is essentially skipjack tuna seared over straw-fuelled open flames that roar away in large, metal basins. The word katsuo is the skipjack itself, and tataki is the cooking method, where the fish is cooked on the outside while the inside is left raw. Schools of skipjack, along with mackerel, are in abundance around the waters of Kochi, thanks to the warm currents of the Pacific Ocean to the south. It’s the fish that put the city on the map, I’m told.
“People from all over Japan come here to try authentic skipjack tuna,” says Kyoko Hino, our guide and interpreter. “The people of Kochi consume five times more than the rest of the country,” she adds.
We haven’t been searing the tuna for very long before Chisato gestures that it’s time to turn the skewers. I’m told locals used to eat it raw, until 16th-century feudal lord Yamanouchi Kazutoyo banned the practice in an effort to phase out the frequent cases of food poisoning. Searing was a way to reduce the risk, while maintaining the tuna’s strong, distinct aroma.
This coastal city is the last stop in Japan on Azamara’s 17-night ‘Springtime in Asia’ voyage. Aboard its compact yet luxurious Quest ship — kitted out with a spa, cushy ocean-view rooms and seven restaurants and lounges — it sails to four Japanese cities before heading on to explore the wonders of Taiwan, Hong Kong, Vietnam and Singapore. So far, we’ve experienced the buzzy heights of Osaka and soaked up history in Kyoto, but Kochi feels different.
The largest yet least populated prefecture on Shikoku, Kochi is prized for its farming — the local landscape is dotted with greenhouses, orchards, rice paddies and lush farmlands for growing fresh produce like aubergine, ginger and green peppers. Meanwhile, its lengthy coastline is home to the picture-perfect Katsurahama Beach — which, when we’re there on a mild April afternoon, is devoid of tourists and soundtracked only by crashing waves and tree-dwelling cicadas.
Back in the searing room, I carry my skewer to the chef who skilfully slices then places it into a bento box. The rest of my box is comprised of umi shirasu boshi (boiled whitebait), grilled aubergine with sweet miso paste, steamed egg custard, boiled konnyaku (a jelly made from the starch of devil’s tongue), pickled daikon, seaweed paste, garlic, raw white onion and spring onion.
When it’s time to eat, I head over to the seating area, which is simple and reminds me of my secondary school canteen. By about 1pm, the room is packed with Japanese diners, and me and my fellow cruisers are the only foreigners in the entire place. On the tables are neat medleys of beer, various side dishes and green vegetables cooking over metal lanterns. I remove my wooden chopsticks from the wrapper — just stopping myself from rubbing them together, which is considered rude in Japan — and pick up the first slice of tuna.
“When I had katsuo no tataki in Hiroshima, where I’m from, I didn’t like it,” says Kyoko.
“But then I tried the authentic one in Kochi, and I love it — it’s very fresh and just different compared to other prefectures.”
The flesh of the fish is maroon in colour and fringed by a black, slightly-crispy outer skin. I defy the advice to ‘eat with wasabi or salt first!!!’ and try it on its own. It’s at once gamey and smoky, and I can instantly taste the flames that almost barbecued me alive. It leaves a pungent aftertaste, which I try to shake with a sip of miso soup. For my next bite, I get carried away and build a little Jenga tower of pickled daikon, raw onion and an obscene amount of garlic, and cover the lot with plenty of salt, wasabi and soy sauce. The sharpness of the onion and daikon balances out the all-but-raw tuna perfectly. The gusto of the wasabi, the sourness of the daikon, the saltiness of the soy sauce — it’s all a delicious umami festival in my mouth. I sit back and order a cold bottle of Sapporo beer to wash it all down with.
All the while, the room continues to fill up with locals: families, workers, young friends catching up. I start constructing my next bite. Just then, Kyoko, who’s grinning from ear to ear, leans over the pumpkin tempura she’s ordered for the table.
“You’re eating the best skipjack tuna in the world, you know,” she whispers proudly. I nod, causing the pillar of tuna and garnish on my chopsticks to topple over. In this corner of Japan, self-seared skipjack tuna is more than just a meal — it’s a rite of passage for any visitor.
Three more flavours of Kochi
1. Nabeyaki ramen
Originally from the city of Susaki in Kochi prefecture, this simple soup dish is a mix of noodles, raw egg, spring onions and chikuwa (Japanese fish cake) — all swimming in a steaming broth of chicken stock and soy sauce. It’s traditionally stewed and served in a donabe (an earthen pot) to ensure it stays piping hot until the end. Find it on menus across the area.
2. Tosa buntan
Kochi is Japan’s largest producer of buntan — the citrus-like fruit known in English as pomelo. At once sweet and slightly tart, these pastel-yellow fruits are typically eaten raw or used to make cocktails, jams and preserves, or to add flavour and texture to salads and fish dishes. In Tosa — the old name for this province and also a town on the south side of Kochi — buntan have been cultivated since 1943 thanks to farmer Miyaji Fumiya. Pay a visit in spring to find the fruit spilling over at colourful market stalls across the region.
3. Utsubo
Utsubo, or moray eels, are so terrifying that locals have dubbed them ‘gangsters of the sea’. Although found in waters all around Japan, very few people outside of Kochi are fans of utsubo, which are riddled with small, sharp bones — trained chefs will remove these before cooking. Light, tender and akin to chicken, it’s most popularly consumed as utsubo karaage (deep fried) or nikogori (enveloped in gelatin).
How to do it:
Azamara’s 15-night Asia Intensive Voyage aboard Azamara Journey departs 18 April 2024. Ports of call include Tokyo, Kochi, Taipei, Hong Kong, Da Nang, Ho Chi Minh City and Singapore. Prices start from £2,404 per person, excluding flights.
This story was created with the support of Azamara.
Published in the Cruise guide, distributed with the Jan/Feb 2024 issue of National Geographic Traveller (UK).
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