Lotus Root Salad・蓮根サラダ

A salad of renkon and shungiku — chrysanthemum greens —dressed with a simple vinaigrette.

Lotus root is one of the most symbolically rich ingredients in Japanese Buddhist cooking. The lotus itself — renge or hasu — represents the path from ignorance to enlightenment: rooting in mud, finding its path through the depths of the water, finally reaching the surface, blooming into a radiant blossom.

In the kitchen we work with the edible root: the renkon.

This salad pairs renkon with chrysanthemum: both the greens (shungiku) and the blossoms (kiku-no-hana).. Both ingredients are in their nagori season here in Hokkaido — the final weeks before they are gone. The dish is simple and deliberate. It does not ask for much of your time. It asks for your attention, your presence.

The Lotus in Buddhist Practice

The connection between the lotus plant and Buddhist awakening runs across every major Japanese Mahayana tradition. In Tendai Buddhism — the lineage in which I trained — Saichō taught that every person inherently possesses what he called the "lotus of Buddhahood." The flower's emergence is not a future event; it is already implicit in the plant beneath the water. The mud is not an obstacle to be escaped. It is the condition that makes the blooming possible.

This is not metaphor at a safe distance. When I peel a lotus root and clean the mud from its channels, I am handling the same teaching. The ingredient and the principle are not separate.

Nagori — The Last of the Season

In the seasonal framework of shōjin ryōri, ingredients move through three phases: hashiri (the arrival), shun (the peak season), and nagori (the departure). These are not calendar dates. They are relationships — between the ingredient, the soil, and the person present at each moment.

Both renkon and chrysanthemum are nagori ingredients in Hokkaido right now. In fact, by the time this is published they will likely be gone entirely. That is the fleeting nature of this particular period: here one minute and gone the next. Their season runs roughly November through March. By early April, they are fading away as the next season enters hashiri. A dish made from nagori ingredients is not a recipe optimized for flavor — it is an acknowledgment. You are not just eating, you are developing an understanding and acceptance of impermanence.

Ichibutsu Zentai — Using Everything

This recipe uses three parts of the chrysanthemum plant: the stems, the leaves, and the blossoms. In shōjin ryōri, the principle of ichibutsu zentai (一物全体) — using the whole of an ingredient — is not about efficiency or reducing waste, though it does both. It is about respect. The stem is not lesser than the delicate green leaves of the plant. They are cooked differently because they require different things, but they are cooked all the same. The blossoms are added raw at the last minute to add a bitter note and balance the sweetness of the dish. There is no distinguishing this or that based upon preference or perceived value. Each plays a separate but equal role.

Some Notes about the Recipe

Steaming rather than boiling preserves the crunch of the raw renkon in this preparation. Boiling the lotus root, with its high water content, would cause it to become soft and starchy. A different dish entirely.

Kokutō (Okinawan black sugar) replaces white sugar in the dressing. It carries mineral depth and a faint molasses quality that white sugar cannot approximate. If unavailable, muscovado is the closest substitute.

Shungiku stems and leaves cook at different rates. Steam the stems first, then add the leaves for the final few seconds just to wilt them. Every part is cut to approximately the same size as the renkon — visual consistency reinforces the sense of non-discernment by not emphasizing one ingredient over another. On a more practical note, cutting the pieces evenly makes them easier to eat with hashi (chopsticks).