Choju-kan, a late 19th century ‘ryokan’ (hot springs inn) near Hoshi Onsen, with its cathedral ceilinged chestnut wood soaking tubs, is the most famous of its kind in Japan.
Getting there, especially with luggage is a challenge, never more so than in the depths of winter. Local visitors, we found out the hard way, know that all they need to travel with is a bag of toiletries, as everything else is provided, but this was our first time so our fellow passengers on the small local buses we had to take from the train station stared at us with a combination of amusement and pity as we struggled with not one but two large suitcases. It was Christmas Eve and snowing steadily as we waited at a bus stop in the middle of nowhere for the second of the two buses and without the kindness of three Tokyo girls who spoke some English and were also on their way to the inn, we would have had no idea which small white bus to board.
More stares were to come, as we were the only ‘gaijin’ staying at the inn, but after mastering the bathing rituals on the first afternoon- especially the twin faux pas of wearing the wrong slippers in the wrong places (you are given two pairs, one of which is only for wearing in the toilet), and making sure you have thoroughly rinsed out the small cloth you have used to wash your face, neck and body with before immersing yourself in the hot spring waters, we have relaxed into the rhythm of bathing, sleeping and eating.
Food is being served ‘kaiseki’ style in our room as we sit cross-legged under the cosy blanket of our heated ‘kotatsu’ table and is making every other Japanese meal we have ever eaten seem westernized (mostly in a good way, though I found the pickles, raw fish, roe, tofu, salad, miso soup etc for breakfast, a touch challenging at 7am without a cup of coffee to help wash it all down). On a sunny Christmas morning we opened the small gifts that the inn had thoughtfully given us and changed out of our bathrobes for the long walk through deep snow, past shrines and frozen persimmon trees to the village of Hoshi Onsen.
That night after a magnificent seafood dinner served by our charming maid, I bathed in the outdoor hot spring pool under a clear starry-lit alpine sky and slept a deep and dreamless sleep on my rolled-out futon.
The next morning, we left in driving snow for Miyanoshita, Hakone (two buses, two bullet trains, and two local trains with those heavy suitcases). Our hotel, the Fujiya promised much from its pagoda roofed exterior but after the luxury of Choju-kan we were not going to settle for a room in the ‘new’ (1960s) block. Words of disappointment were exchanged and we were moved to the much more characterful ‘Restful Cottage’ (1905).
This town is unashamedly touristy (often to a fault) but has charm to spare and its setting is cheek by jowl with Mt Fuji, which dominates the place very much like Etna does Catania in Sicily. Amongst a cluster of fascinating craft and antique stores we stumbled upon the most eccentric and charming dinner experience we have ever had in this country. To say that entering the tiny unnamed noodle restaurant was like walking into a scene from Hayao Miyazaki’s animation classic ‘Kiki’s delivery service’, is no exaggeration, as we crossed the threshold into a tiny house filled with Mittel-european antiques. We were greeted with deep bows by two twinkle-eyed old ladies who beckoned us up a steep stairway to their bedroom where they served us the sole dish on their menu- steaming bowls of Mushroom and Soba Noodle soup. No words were spoken and no other customers came in whilst we were there.
We finished our evening in the same strange Euro-Japanese bubble, playing darts and drinking sake in the bar of our hotel.
Japanese Mushroom & Soba Noodle soup: Serves 4
4 cups of water mixed with two tsp dashi powder
2 tbsp sake
2 tbsp mirin
Soy sauce to taste (2-3 tbsp)
4 servings of soba noodles (they are usually individually wrapped in a packet)
2 bok choy, washed and split into quarters
1-2 spring onions, finely sliced
500 gm mixed Asian mushrooms (shiitake, oyster etc), cleaned and sliced
1 tbsp EV olive oil
1 further tbsp mirin
2 further tbsp soy sauce
To make the soup:
Mix the dashi powder into the water in a saucepan, then add the sake and soy sauce and warm. Bring to the boil, then simmer for a few minutes. While the stock is cooling add the EV olive oil in a frypan and sauté the mushrooms. When cooked add the mirin and soy sauce; cook until all the liquid is gone and set aside.
Bring a large saucepan with plenty of water to the boil; add the soba noodles, cooking until nearly done then add the bok choy and cook until both are ready.
Remove the bok choy and drain the noodles. Serve the noodles into four warm bowls, topping with the mushrooms, bok choy and spring onions then pour the hot soup over it.
Next morning we went for an early stroll through the grounds of Kikka-so, the former Imperial summer villa of Emperor Hirohito, which is now an annex of the Fujiya hotel, making a note to specify one of those rooms on our next visit.
Mt Fuji is strangely bare of snow cover, despite this winter being the snowiest in three decades and as it is so often, its summit was shrouded in clouds, so it was an easy decision to opt for a visit to the Hakone-jinja shrine with its magnificent red torii gateway framing the walk up to the shrine complex which dates from the 8th century, through an ancient cedar grove.
I would love to have hiked the Hakone section of the old Tokaido road, which used to run from Kyoto to Edo for the mandatory annual progress of the regional warlords and their entourages to pay tribute to their emperor, but three and a half hours uphill was not going to fly with either Sabrina or our daughter. Instead we rode the tangle of cable cars, ropeways and switchback railways through the foothills for more tantalising glimpses of Fuji-san.
Our final morning has dawned clear, so we have hiked through the woods up Mt Sangan to the Fuji viewing point, with nary a cloud to spoil the vista, which we shared with a troop of young, beautifully robed monks. There is just time for coffee, apple pie and ‘rare’ cheesecake at a little café run by an old gentleman who proudly shows us his antique ceramic collection, before we catch our bullet train back to Tokyo.
As a small gift to all our readers this Christmas holiday, here is a bonus recipe for those of you that enjoy seasonal baking. Sabrina first made these Madeleines for friends and neighbours in London and they’ve become one of our family traditions.
Christmas spice madeleines (makes 3 dozen)
250 gms gluten free (plain or AP) flour
250gms eggs (4)
2 cups coconut sugar
250gms of butter- melted and cooled
12 gms honey
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 tsp baking powder
Spice mix- ½ tsp cinnamon, ½ tsp ground ginger, ¼ tsp nutmeg, 1/8 tsp cloves
Beat the eggs, sugar, honey and vanilla until thick; add pre-mixed sifted flour and baking powder & beat to incorporate. Add cooled butter and melt until combined into a batter.
Cover with clingfilm directly on the batter and refrigerate for at least 24 hours or up to two days.
Baking
Pre-heat oven to 220 C/425F
Fill madeleine moulds ¾ full with the cold batter and bake for 3 minutes, then turn oven off for 8-10 minutes (leaving the madeleines in the oven).
Turn on the oven at 160C/320F for a further 3 minutes while the madeleines “bump”.
Cool in the moulds for 5 minutes before taking them gently out and cooling them on a chopping board or kitchen counter with the “bump” side down.
When cold, half dip in chocolate if you like.
Your trip across at least four prefectures and multiple towns and mountains is monumental in Japanese terms. A train ride to one or two nights stay in a onsen is a winter holiday. Add to that a beautiful ryokan with food served privately is luxury indeed. But the Japanese have a lifetime to see their own land. I congratulate you on your strength and perseverance to get the real deal. No flag waving guide and bus rides with 50 other tourists for you. All the things you have hi-lighted have really shown the beauty of the Japanese onsen.
What an amazing trip.