Growing up in a mixed ethnicity household in California, we tended to observe more western holidays than ones from the homeland, but o-shougatsu (Japanese New Year’s) was one notable exception. Perhaps it was because my mother and I were both motivated by food, or maybe it was the opportunity to bond over something that neither my sister or step-father could quite appreciate.
After all the wrapping paper had been recycled and the tinsel and lights of Christmas were taken down, New Year’s Day gave me something to look forward to. In the days leading up to the new year, the kitchen would be filled with sights and smells I only got to experience once a year, and nothing brings back memories of those final days of the year like the sweet sugary smell of kuromame simmering on the stove. continue →
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