About Uncle Hiro's Washoku Table
I grew up three blocks from the Sumida River, listening to the clack of my grandfather's knives. These pages hold our family techniques, written in English so my nieces abroad never feel far from home.
My quiet story
I am Hiroshi — but everyone calls me Uncle Hiro. My earliest memories are of dawn light falling over wooden cutting boards while my grandfather prepared ichiju sansai before work. He never raised his voice, yet every motion spoke of pride.
When my younger sister moved overseas, she asked me to translate the notebooks he left behind. These lessons became this site: measured conversations about kombu, steam, vinegar, patience, and gratitude. There is no secret ingredient, only good attention.
I test each recipe in a tiny Tokyo apartment kitchen, adjusting measurements for Western groceries and writing every instruction twice — once for intuition, once for clarity. Think of me as an uncle leaning on the counter, gently coaching you through the simmer.
Guiding principles
Seasonality first
Every dish begins by listening to the market. If an ingredient is tired, we wait.
Hospitality & humility
Meals taste best when shared slowly, with care for whoever is across the table.
Clarity over trend
Techniques remain simple, annotated, and trustworthy — no flash, just calm guidance.