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Created by Chef Takumi
Soft, cinnamon-scented yatsuhashi asks for evenly steamed rice dough and a modest spoon of anko. Fold it while warm, leave it room, and Kyoto's souvenir sweet becomes kitchen work.
Wagashi has a reputation for tiny tools and solemn hands. Nama yatsuhashi doesn't ask for that. It is a soft square of rice dough, scented with nikki, folded into a triangle around anko. The shape looks clever, but the work is plain: make the dough supple, cut it cleanly, and fold before it cools.
The first secret is hydration. Shiratamako begins as coarse little grains, and if water doesn't reach them before the heat does, you get pale specks that chew like sand. Crush the grains, stir the batter smooth, then steam it until the rice starch turns translucent and stretchy. That change is not ceremony. It is the starch taking on water, which is what gives nama yatsuhashi its soft pull.
Kyoto shops now sell cinnamon, matcha, and seasonal fruit pieces by the box, the kind of sweet that rides home as omiyage after a temple visit. At the table, keep it small. Three pieces on a plate, a little tea, plenty of empty space. This is honmono because nothing is forced: good anko, a clean dusting of kinako and cinnamon, and a warm fold made before the dough has a chance to sulk.
Quantity
70g
Quantity
50g
Quantity
70g
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| shiratamako (glutinous rice flour) | 70g |
| jōshinko (Japanese non-glutinous rice flour) | 50g |
| jōhakutō or granulated sugar | 70g |
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