Tasting Hokkaido's Secret Food Scene & Exploring Japan’s Snow Capital | DIRT Japan: Hokkaido

Hot coffee, hot coffee, cigarettes, ice cream. Here I am as a kid. Now I'm a washed up pro snowboarder, dad, and curious food nerd, hell-bent on new adventures. I'm Josh Rosen. Food and adventure have led me to some of the most interesting places, so we're off on a mission to source the freshest ingredients, all while taking it in through the lens of the locals. And each adventure ends with a feast. This is dirt. For thousands of years, only the native Ainu people were tough enough to hunt and fish this rugged land. Modern civilization eventually made its way up from mainland Japan, and western influences weren't too far behind. The people here are wild and resilient, the seafood is some of the best in the world, and the snow just keeps falling. Welcome to the island of Hokkaido. Hokkaido is the island furthest north in Japan, and we're hitting the ground running in its largest city, Sapporo, the city of snow, averaging 20 feet of snowfall a year more than any other major metropolitan city. And now we find ourselves deep inside the tunnels of a subway station, looking for a tucked away little restaurant, along with my old friend Rip Zinger. If you could have anyone guiding a trip in Hokkaido, it's Rip. He grew up skating in Tokyo and has traveled around the world sharing his love for adventure and wholesome food. Tonight we are feasting with a buddy of Rip's, Chef Kenji, and he's starting us off with shotgun shell oysters. Kenji's mission for this dinner is to give us a crash course in Hokkaido cuisine. First dish, shirako. Translate that to English, cod sperm. Lucky for us, it's in season and plentiful. Oysters, wheat, and dairy are famous on this island. This dish, combining all three, is Kenji's specialty. One bite or two? One bite. Next, a simple dish eaten by the indigenous Ainu people. Kenji's grandma's secret fried chicken recipe, and yes, more plump local oysters. This is a lump sucker fish, and now we are going to preserve its eggs, Hokkaido style. First, remove the eggs, add kombu and Kagoshima soy sauce, a touch of rice wine, and it's ready to be jarred up. And lastly, a final soup made from the leftovers of the lump sucker fish. In Japan, the word motainai is a philosophy centered around respecting resources and their value. Nothing is wasted in this kitchen. Thank you Kenji for this crash course in Hokkaido flavors. I'm in my happy place, a landscape covered in fresh snow. Snacks have been acquired, and so begins our search for some of Hokkaido's best ingredients. We're heading west, where farmland is surrounded by tree-covered mountains, and the ocean is never too far away. Ah, sweet, sweet island life. You may be asking yourself why we're at a farm in the middle of winter. Well, four feet of snow isn't stopping this couple. Under this thick blanket of snow are crispy green cabbages that they grew this summer. And the Yamashita's reason for leaving them in the snow all winter is quite practical. And you know what's really neat? When buried in the snow, the cabbages convert their starches into sugars to prevent their cells from freezing, a defense mechanism that makes them crispier and sweeter than ever. I would eat that all the time. Farmers all over Hokkaido have been burying vegetables under the snow for centuries, a simple example of how locals here have turned hardships into opportunity, and in this case, sweet, crispy, fruit-like cabbage. Thank you. And off we go. The ocean is very much alive up here. It's pretty cool to imagine that these winds are coming all the way down from Siberia, then crossing over the Sea of Japan, pushing swell right into us here in Hokkaido. I mean, the waves look terrible, but Kate said after we got our first ingredient today that I could get some surf time in. Oh, it's a train. One mushy wave when it's 31 degrees out, current ripping towards the seawall of death. We'll count it. Surfing in those types of conditions makes you a certain kind of hungry, and I heard about a secret spot. This guy doesn't want you to know his name or where his sushi restaurant is, so we're not going to tell you. It probably has to do with the fact that the sushi counter only has eight seats and serves some of the most incredible sushi on the planet. Also, who does my guy's hair? Hokkaido's freezing ocean makes this fish extra fatty, and as we know, fatty fish makes for delicious sushi. Well, a few things are for certain. Cold water keeps the lineup empty and the sushi insanely fresh. I'm a 45-year-old froth monster child, face pressed to the window, snowboards in the back. If I see a hillside, I'm going to ask if we can stop. Does this count? Sorry guys, we can keep driving now. Wait, is that a ski resort over yonder? It's got to be. Might even be better. We'll come back to that shortly. A quick back story on the ski industry in Japan. First, Hokkaido held the 1972 Winter Olympics, a financial boom in the 80s, and Japan became obsessed. Almost overnight, 700 ski resorts opened up around Japan, but when the bubble popped in the 90s, nearly 250 of these resorts closed for good. But Iwanai Resort, despite all the abandoned lifts, has managed to stay alive, and the new owner has taken a different approach to running this local ski hill. And that gives us a lot to party about, because the only way to access this resort now is by a handful of snow cats, which pretty much means no people anywhere. The first time that I met Rip, he's been making sure that we are fed, and fed really amazing food. Eat, Ride, Rad is my philosophy. I want to represent good eating for the people who skate and surf and play in the mountains, snowboarders. So Eat Rad, Ride Rad. Gotta Eat Rad to Ride Rad, there's no doubt about it. I feel like that aligns with the ethos of this show quite well. Low-angle Japow at an empty ski resort, fun for the whole family. We were told not to be late to our dinner at the Ryokan. Maybe it's because the seafood was trying to walk itself off of the plate before we got there. In Japan, there is a concept called omotenashi. It literally means to wholeheartedly look after guests. This mindset of hospitality, centering around care rather than expectation, is a window into the culture here. We're experiencing this firsthand. That's Mount Yotei, a volcano in the sky, one of the focal points in the Niseko Valley. 80,000 tons of mineral-rich spring water flows down this mountain daily. And you know these resourceful locals aren't passing up the opportunity to fill up. We sure aren't going to pass up some of the world's best spring water for our final feast. And neither is Mr. Akiyama, whose business is right next to this public fountain. For thousands of years, people have been thinking of creative ways to eat soybeans, and this is one of them. Tofu, fresh off the press. Local soybeans are soaked in the mineral-rich water, then grinded up and separated from the soy milk. The soy milk is simmered, just like how cheese is made. A salt mixture called nigari and cold spring water is added to coagulate the milk. Then, curds begin to form. Meanwhile, the leftover soybean husks are sent to local farms for compost. The curds are then pressed into molds, soaked again in cold spring water, and packed. This tofu is all sold locally, and a handful of varieties are available. And a mochi ball treat just before we leave. Tasty. Next stop, another producer who utilizes the magical spring water from Mount Yotei. Old school, family run, fat cats everywhere. Mr. Mizuguchi's family has been brewing sake with spring water and melted snow since 1916. Eyes, eyes, and then smells, and tastes. Wow, it's alive. Local rice is used along with water from different springs all over Hokkaido. Each one has a unique mineral quality and flavor. And what is Mr. Mizuguchi's preferred sake, you ask? Well, throw the sake when they clean the machines. So this is the whole left over. Mix of everything. Mix everything. Oh, it's a beauty. And he loves it. Nice. And nothing like some spicy miso ramen served by a cute little robot to round out our beautiful first day in Niseko. Beep beep, boop boop. Little guy, can you bring me some soup? This slope side guiding up makes it their mission to track down the best snow around. The light and fluff. Face shots for everyone. A drop of echinacea root from my travel doctor, and we're ready to head out with Mako and Omu for the day. And up the mountain we go, on a search for what people travel here from all over the world for. Remember those cold Siberian winds from earlier? And the sea of Japan? Well, when those cold winds meet the warmer currents, steam is formed and sucked into the sky, forming dense clouds. And the first thing those clouds hit are these mountains, creating near daily storms of some of the driest and lightest snow known to man. Basically, Niseko is the motherland of powder. And these guys took us right to the spot. Japanese snowboarding is another example of this culture's connection to nature. These guys ride with the snow, not against it. One with the mountain, that's the vibe, right? The magic isn't only in the snow, it's in the forest. Unlike the evergreens in the Pacific Northwest, these birch trees allow for a longer line of sight and less branches in the face. The best part about tomahawking down a mountain here are the on-slope rehabilitation centers. Yep, that building right there. A quick soak in these sulfur-rich baths, and it's just what the doctor ordered. The water here is a gift. From the mineral springs, to the boiling onsense, to the Siberian powder snow. Even Sapporo classic beer is made from the local spring water. All time. Best day, best life. If we tally up the things we've learned on this trip so far, it's that the ocean provides. The water and snow are perfect. And that 7-Eleven is always open. And a convenience store is just a piece of bulls**t. But if you're asking me which snack to get, Jakariko is a s**t. Once you step into Japan, there's two things you have to eat. One is peanut. Dried potato. This is Hoshiimo. The best thing. Dried persimmons. Insanely good. Of course, when your kids are crying, and they're screaming around, just boom, run to the 7-Eleven, buy this eclair. And then this world's gonna be all good. Chocolate eclair secured. This world is going to be all good. You rarely drive over mountains in Japan. Instead, you drive through them. Lots of them. Hold your breath. Out of the mountains, leaving the tourist trail, trading in snow for ice. Kushiro is a large industrial port city. Think coal, paper mills, and fishing boats. But at its heart is a warm fire. Downtown, there are now over a hundred robotayaki restaurants, based off of the old communal coal-fired hearths used by Japanese fishermen in the past. And Grandma Nakajima carries on her aunt's robata in the same location it was opened in 1953. And some believe that this is the first robata ever opened. There's nothing like sitting around a hot fire and eating food. With ice like this, you better believe this city has two Olympic speed skating medalists, and a pretty competitive co-ed hockey league. Do my roller skating skills translate here to speed skating? Let's find out. This is way harder than it looks. Apollo Ono, hats off to you, brother. Okay, now it's time for a late night snack. Tiny restaurants are all over this part of town. Choose wisely. Nope, not that one. This ten-seater claims to have invented zangi, fried chicken, Hokkaido's soul food. The chicken is marinated in soy sauce and spiced first. Different than karaage. Better. Bright and early. It's a brisk two degrees out, but the hunt for ingredients must never stop. Ever. And we're here to harvest Japan's favorite fungi, which is a fundamental element of umami. We are in a small town built on oysters and whiskey. And we are with the king of oysters. That's actually his name, Oyster King. True story. So the heritage is richer than Jesus. Beautiful. Ah, it's so cold. We open oysters from the other direction here, and the oyster flip is common. Sake oysters is also my new favorite combo. And now is the time that we start to get pretty weird on these trips. Hey, look who showed up. Kenji found his love for oysters through Kaki Kinsan, and this afternoon we're warming up together and feasting with a good crew. It's quieter on this side of the island. Not gonna lie, it's pretty nice. Thanks for the oysters and the great time. We're officially beyond the wall, but no white walkers here. There isn't much of anything, actually. Just point break after empty snowy point break. We're on the far eastern side of Hokkaido, and we've reached the end. We've been to some version of this in every episode. This one really feels like the end. That might even be Russia over there. Around the bend is our final stop, Rausu, which in Aunu means, where the men have spirits of beasts. Kate is concerned. This is Kazumi Ishida, the unofficial mayor of Rausu and the head of the local fishing fleet. He's the guy who will be catching our final ingredient and hosting the final dinner. He's also caught most of the fish we are sharing tonight. And at two in the morning, the captain will board his 10-man fishing boat for a 12-hour shift, in the dark, out at sea, just like he does six days a week, 52 weeks a year. In the meantime, we'll stay busy until the fishing boats come back with their catch. I feel like we all deserve an onsen at this point. Wow, did I just manifest that? We'll take in some of the sights and grab another ingredient. Every summer, many of the fishermen take time off of catching fish and turn their focus to hand harvest this local hearty kelp, a delicacy known as kombu. It's not being harvested now, but we have been given access to the secret curing room by the Willy Wonka of kombu. This ingredient is so important to the flavor of Japan and the quality of it here is a sign of a healthy ecosystem and even a reflection of the care this community takes for its culture and natural resources. Well, that was fun. Now, back to the docks. So we're just watching the unloading process. These guys have been out since two in the morning. They've done about three truckloads of these fish. There's lots of different variety of fish, mostly caught it seems, but the process is incredible. Just using all of these boxes and moving around super quickly to manage all of their catch through and into the weighing area. It's like a ballet. It's like an orchestra. Everything is timed perfectly. Every day of the week, the fish are immediately sorted, weighed, and auctioned off at local restaurants and factories. And still using pen and paper, not so different from how they've been auctioning the fish for centuries. And here is our beautiful salmon. Oh wait, and a bonus ingredient, cod sperm. So, so much cod sperm. We did it. We've gathered enough ingredients from a frozen world to pull off a feast. Harvesting from above and below the feet of snow, sourcing from volcanic springs and icy oceans, and of course, our beloved 7-Eleven. For today's meal, we are keeping it cozy at the Ishida residence, and it already smells delicious. Also, don't mind me as I build a jump out back. Finally, somebody appreciates my snowboarding. We are really beginning to feel at home in this house on the opposite side of the world. This final dinner is a reminder of the unmatched hospitality that we've been met with at each stop along our trip. The people we've met have been rugged, yet kind, hardworking, and fun. And damn, the food has been absolutely next level. The Japanese use the term itadakimasu as a way to show gratitude and respect for everyone and everything that existed to create the meal in front of them. So, as we're surrounded by new friends and amazing food produced by the people and places we've experienced on this trip, I say itadakimasu. We're humbled and honored by all of you. Thank you, Hokkaido. I guess that's a wrap. Oh, wait, wait, one final tip. Always help with the dishes.