Japan is home to a distinctive food culture shaped by its climate and history. Among its most compelling expressions are the “chinmi,” rare and deeply flavored foods. Cultivated within each region’s natural environment and traditions, chinmi open the door to an intellectual journey where you experience the essence of Japan’s diverse cultures and techniques through taste.
In Japan, “chinmi” literally means “rare and delicious food,” and the term often refers to prepared foods that you enjoy as-is—especially as small bites to accompany sake (*1).
According to the National Federation of Associations of Processed Delicacy Manufacturers, chinmi are “foods made primarily from marine products which, through special processing, preserve their distinctive flavors, gain storability, and can be eaten without further preparation,” and they are defined as “essential foods for a cultured life that suit general preferences” (*1).
Examples include salted, dried, or fermented seafoods and preserved foods made from bounty from the mountains and seas—crafted so you can savor concentrated umami in small amounts. In other words, Japanese chinmi correspond to what English calls “delicacies.” Just as the world’s three great delicacies—caviar, foie gras, and truffles—are celebrated, Japan has a wide variety of chinmi born from regional landscapes and local wisdom across the country (*2).
Behind chinmi lies Japan’s food culture and the history of preserved foods. To store precious ingredients for long periods, techniques such as salting and drying developed early on; many of these preserved foods came to be regarded as chinmi for their “special flavor” (*3).
For instance, the Heian-period compendium Engishiki (927) records dried sea cucumber (kōnamako) and salted sea cucumber entrails (konowata) as tribute items from Noto Province to the imperial court, suggesting they were produced and presented in substantial quantities (*4). Medieval texts from the Muromachi period also mention konowata as offerings to aristocrats, confirming a longstanding history of chinmi valued as gifts and tributes (*4).
By the Edo period, local specialty chinmi became offerings to feudal domains and the shogunate. The most renowned were the “Three Supreme Delicacies of the Realm”: konowata from Mikawa, karasumi from Nagasaki, and shiouni (salted sea urchin) from Echizen (*2). These three major Japanese chinmi were treasured as exquisite flavors reserved for daimyo and the shogunal household, cementing their status as premium delicacies within a culture of gift-giving (*5).
Chinmi are also deeply interwoven with regional cultures and social roles. With their bold, preserved flavors, they were used during the Warring States and Edo periods as provisions for travel or military campaigns, and as luxurious morsels to entertain guests at banquets and festivals.
In the culture of gifts, their rarity made chinmi prized presents. As seen in examples of offerings to daimyo and the shogunate in the Edo era, presenting chinmi was a source of local pride and a token of relations (*5). Some chinmi were even believed to boost vitality and were considered elixirs for longevity.
Chinmi also feature in annual observances. Just as kazunoko (herring roe) appears in New Year’s osechi cuisine to symbolize prosperity and the wish for many descendants, certain chinmi are used as auspicious foods. In this way, chinmi are more than indulgences: they embody regional pride and cultural symbols and have served as social conduits.
Their variety is remarkably rich, with ingredients and methods that change by region and season. Ingredients range from premium seafood to familiar local produce, and strong seasonality is part of their charm.
Karasumi, for example, is made when mullet enter their spawning season from late autumn into winter; high-quality pieces glow with an amber sheen. Salted sea urchin (shiouni) is new in summer, but those that mature through winter are said to develop a mellow sweetness as the salt integrates.
Chinmi are inseparable from the climates and wisdom that craft them—gifts of the four seasons transformed by human hands. The world of chinmi, which condenses each region’s terroir into flavor, is nothing less than the heart of Japanese culinary culture.
In Nagasaki, early winter brings the seasonal sight of karasumi—made from mullet roe—drying in the sun under the eaves. That amber brilliance captures a traditional flavor shaped by sea and sun.
Karasumi is a quintessential Japanese salted delicacy made by salting mullet roe, desalting it, and drying it (*6). Its name comes from its resemblance to Chinese inksticks (“tōboku”); the finished product’s orange-brown, bar-like form led to the name “karasumi” (Chinese ink) (*6).
The method itself is not uniquely Japanese; many trace its origin to bottarga—a dried fish roe product made around the Mediterranean since antiquity (*7). The culture of dried fish roe, born in the Middle East and the Mediterranean, traveled along the Silk Road and maritime trade routes to China, and then is thought to have reached Nagasaki in the Azuchi–Momoyama through Edo periods (*7).
From the 17th century, Nagasaki was a vital port for trade with China and Europe (Dejima). As Nanban (Western) and Chinese cultures flowed in, karasumi was among the delicacies transmitted from China (*7).
A fusion of foreign technique and Japanese ingredients, karasumi rose beyond preserved fare to become a refined delicacy. In the Edo period, it became a standard item presented via the Nagasaki Magistrate to the Tokugawa shogunate, and its rarity and flavor made it coveted among daimyo and the imperial court (*6).
Because only a small amount can be obtained from a single roe sac and the process is laborious, karasumi was extremely expensive even then. At the venerable Takano-ya, artisans still uphold the additive-free, handcraft methods established in the Edo era—salting mullet roe sacs, soaking them in fresh water to remove excess salt, and carefully sun-drying them in winter wind and light to achieve a golden finish (*6).
Fukui’s famed “Echizen-style shiouni (salted sea urchin)” is a paste-like delicacy of sea urchin roe salted and matured in jars—so rich in umami it has been called a “jewel of the sea.”
In Fukui, Echizen shiouni stands as an exquisite chinmi born of the sea (*8). Because only about 1 gram can be produced from a single urchin, it is extremely precious.
In the mid-Edo period, under the encouragement of the Fukui domain lord Matsudaira Haruyoshi, the third-generation proprietor of Tentatsu, Amano Gohee, devised the technique for salted uni, which spread among local fishers and gained renown as a gift to the shogunal house and daimyo (*8).
The rugged Echizen coast teems with high-quality seaweeds, an ideal habitat for sea urchin. The local horse-dung sea urchin (bafun-uni) develops heightened sweetness and depth when processed into shiouni. Matured with nothing but salt—no additives—the result is a deep umami often compared to “ocean cheese,” and the custom of presenting it in paulownia boxes persists to this day (*8).
Konowata is a chinmi made by salting the entrails (intestines) of sea cucumbers and allowing them to ferment and mature (*9). The name derives from sea cucumber’s alias “ko” (sea mouse) and “wata” (entrails), hence “konowata.” It has long been produced on the Noto Peninsula and along Ise Bay. When the Owari Tokugawa clan presented konowata from Morozaki (Minamichita, Aichi) to the Tokugawa shogunate, its fame surged, and it came to be counted alongside uni and karasumi as one of Japan’s three great delicacies (*9).
Because only about 100 grams can be obtained from 5 kilograms of fresh sea cucumbers, konowata has notoriously low yield. Winter waters in Ise Bay are colder, which firms the sea cucumber’s flesh and improves the quality of the entrails; since ancient times, products “made in the dead of winter” have been prized as top tier. The finished konowata is defined by briny coastal aromas, a hint of sweetness, and a luscious, sticky texture. Some savor it neat; others dissolve a dab in hot sake to enjoy “konowata-zake,” an elegant tradition (*9).
Today, local efforts to preserve the technique are gaining momentum. As a rare fermented delicacy symbolizing Mikawa and Ise’s food heritage, it is drawing attention from gourmets in Japan and abroad.
Across Japan, you’ll find rare ingredients and dishes nurtured by local climates and wisdom—foods known as chinmi. Some emerged as preserved foods; others were born from managing risk with care. To discerning travelers, they reveal the depth of Japanese culture. Here are three especially unique regional chinmi.
Ishikawa’s “fugu roe nukazuke” is a fermented delicacy made by detoxifying poisonous pufferfish roe through more than three years of salting and rice-bran pickling (*1). In Mikawa, Hakusan City, this method has been handed down since the Edo period: roe containing tetrodotoxin is submerged long-term in salt and rice bran, and thanks to this astonishing technique, it can be enjoyed safely.
Although a mid-20th-century distribution ban threatened its survival, the licensed process—without a single recorded incident—earned recognition, and production is permitted exclusively in Ishikawa. Today, 21 licensed producers carry on the craft, with stringent toxicity tests before shipment.
Salty and profoundly savory—often compared to cheese—it pairs beautifully with sake or grated daikon. A “forbidden flavor” transformed into culinary pleasure, it’s a miraculous dish that speaks to the resilience of food culture.
Akita’s traditional pickle “iburigakko” is made by smoking daikon over an irori hearth and then pickling it in rice bran, yielding a singular smoky aroma and umami (*2). Devised as a winter preserved food in inland areas where outdoor drying was impossible, its history is said to stretch back to the Muromachi period.
Crisp snap, smoke, and gentle bran-derived acidity make it one of a kind. Registered under Japan’s Geographical Indication (GI) system in 2019, it’s protected across Akita Prefecture. A contemporary pairing with cream cheese has become popular; you’ll even find it as a small plate at wine bars—a fermented classic meeting modern tastes.
The Izu Islands’ intense sunshine and island ingenuity gave rise to “kusaya,” a fermented dried fish known for its powerful aroma. Fish such as frigate mackerel and flying fish are soaked in a fermented brine called “kusaya liquid” and then sun-dried, drawing out astonishingly deep umami with less salt (*3).
Kusaya liquid dates to the Edo period and is a “secret sauce” nurtured in each household by continual replenishment. This 300-year-old method evolved alongside island life, making kusaya indispensable with island sake. In recent years, young producers have developed stick-shaped and vacuum-packed versions, attracting fermentation enthusiasts both in Japan and overseas.
Among Japan’s chinmi are those esteemed as luxury ingredients for their richness and rarity. Even in tiny portions, they make a striking impression, elevating the tables and sake gatherings of gourmets. Here are three quintessentially Japanese luxury chinmi.
Salted Abalone Liver (Shiokara) | A Decadent Accent for the Refined Table
Black abalone is often called a “jewel of the sea.” Its scarce liver, salted and fermented into shiokara, becomes an ultra-premium chinmi famed for velvety depth (*4). Abalone from Rishiri Island in Hokkaido—feeding on Rishiri kombu—are said to deliver exceptional umami and can fetch top prices at market. Beyond nihonshu, a glass of white wine can highlight its coastal minerality. Drop a spoonful onto warm rice porridge and you’ll transform a humble bowl into a luxurious taste of the sea.
Winter brings ankimo (monkfish liver), a Japanese high-end delicacy celebrated as the “foie gras of the sea” (*5). The deep-sea angler’s fattened liver, steamed with sake and served with ponzu, offers a lush texture and refined savor.
Even British newspapers have dubbed it the “Foie Gras of the Sea,” and its appeal is spreading internationally via cans and vacuum packs. Regional dishes that combine ankimo with the monkfish’s mild flesh deliver layered umami—an indulgence of the cold season.
A Hokkaido classic, “Matsumae-zuke” is a preserved dish of julienned dried squid, kelp, and herring roe marinated in a sweet-savory soy sauce (*6). Originating with the Matsumae domain in the Edo period, it grew from the practical wisdom of fishing towns.
After several days of marinating, flavors interweave into a sticky, sumptuous texture with a briny sea aroma. It’s a festive New Year staple, and modern variations—spiked with chili, studded with wild greens—keep it beloved on today’s tables.
Before dawn, fishers quietly set fixed nets and wait for fish to enter on their own—set-net fishing, practiced along Japan’s coasts for centuries, embodies a spirit of “taking only what you need.” By fixing nets in place to intercept migratory fish, this method avoids excessive catch and reduces fuel consumption because fishing grounds are near port. It’s widely known as an environmentally friendly approach (*1).
In Himi on Toyama Bay, this fishery has persisted for over 400 years, nurturing preserved-food traditions such as “konka-zuke” (sardines or mackerel pickled in rice bran) and “buri daikon” (winter yellowtail simmered with daikon) (*2).
Large-scale set-net fishing has also thrived on the Noto Peninsula since the early Edo period, bringing in yellowtail, squid, and more. This “waiting fishery” respects resources, and in places like Himi—where it has continued for more than four centuries—it is highlighted within the framework of Japan’s Globally Important Agricultural Heritage Systems (*3).
Fishers adjust mesh size by species and size to avoid catching small juveniles (*1). The fresh seafood landed by these traditional methods is transformed into local chinmi—salted fish, dried fish—that enrich both tables and culture.
Pole-and-line fisheries in Japan’s near seas are likewise traditional and low impact. Katsuo (skipjack) pole-and-line fisheries in Kochi and Miyazaki have coordinated across fleets to prevent overfishing and have earned the international MSC certification. That recognition matters: the dramatic sight of fishers hauling skipjack one by one—the old way—has been validated as having a comparatively small environmental footprint (*4).
High-quality katsuo caught this way becomes straw-seared tataki or fermented-dried into katsuobushi—the very backbone of Japanese umami-rich dashi.
Ama, the traditional women divers, represent another sustainable practice. In Mie, Ishikawa, and beyond, ama harvest abalone, turban shells, and sea urchin by hand using only their breath. They dive for long minutes, leaving small, breeding shells in place—an elegant technique that spares the sea. Chinmi such as “black-style” abalone liver shiokara and jar-matured salted uni are handcrafted expressions of this human–ocean symbiosis.
Chinmi sustained by such fisheries carry wisdom refined over centuries and a spirit of sustainability. Noto’s specialty “kuchiko” is made by salting and drying the ovaries of sea cucumbers (namako). Because roe-bearing sea cucumbers are rare, production is extremely limited. Known as a Noto specialty since the Nara period and presented to the Maeda clan of Kaga in the Edo era, it has a storied history (*5).
Sanriku’s chinmi “hoya” (sea pineapple) is another singular flavor. Its aquaculture involves suspending shell-seeded lines in the sea; hoya help purify seawater, making this a sustainable method that leverages their biology. Chinmi born of reverence and ingenuity let you taste, bite by bite, the stories of their regions and the blessings of the sea.
For explorer-type travelers, venturing into mountain hamlets and fishing villages to visit restaurants that weave local chinmi with organic ingredients is an incomparable joy.
“Tokuyama-zushi,” on the shores of Lake Yogo in Shiga, is a six-party-per-night auberge helmed by a chef who pioneered fermented cuisine. Its signature is aged sushi (narezushi) made with crucian carp from Lake Biwa. Japan’s oldest fermented food—funazushi—is elevated here into an imaginative French-inspired course.
Though funazushi’s pungent aroma often divides opinion, Tokuyama-zushi overturns expectations with a polished, elegant flavor that surprises and delights guests (*6). Dishes integrating local wild plants, fruits, and fermented seasonings distill the region’s terroir onto each plate.
“SATOYAMA JUJO,” an organic resort tucked into the satoyama of Minamiuonuma, Niigata, is another renowned destination for fermented food culture and chinmi. Set within a renovated farmhouse in snow country, the lodge serves courses highlighting pesticide-free vegetables and local fermented foods.
With a dedicated “fermentation room” for making miso, shio-kōji, and pickles, the winter wisdom of preserved foods infuses modern cooking with nourishing depth. Even international travelers will relish these terroir-rich plates—from local fish matured in sake lees to tofu miso-zuke made with mountain spring water. Craftsmanship shows in vessels and spaces too, creating the feel of a living cultural museum (*7).
These regional stars delight organic-minded guests with “tastes you can only meet on the road.”
Consider exploring Japan’s chinmi in an electric vehicle that treads lightly on the environment.
On a model route through Hokuriku, you’ll start in Kanazawa and circle the Noto Peninsula on an eco-drive. Kanazawa City has Tesla Superchargers, so you can enjoy cultural strolling—Kenrokuen Garden, Higashi Chaya District—while you top up. Then head north along the Noto Satoyama Kaidō toward the serene inner sea coast.
Along the way, take breaks at roadside stations to recharge and browse for chinmi at local stalls. Noto is famed for “fugu roe nukazuke,” a once-forbidden delicacy permitted to be produced only here—its fermentation-born savor is salty yet profound (*8). Slice thinly, lightly grill, and pair with sake for an insider’s treat.
Upon reaching Wajima at the peninsula’s tip, visit the morning market at dawn. You’ll see colorful dried fish and the fish sauce “ishiru.” Chat with local women at the stalls and you’ll hear stories of preservation wisdom and the old days. Salt-dried fish, processed the same morning from set-net catches, concentrate species-specific umami—true distillations of the sea.
Glide from the market along the coastal road in near silence. The Sea of Japan unfurls cobalt, terraced rice fields step down to the shore. Noto’s sea is a biodiverse satoumi; its emblematic set-net fishery is internationally recognized as a resource-friendly method (*3).
Driving with that panorama before you, you’ll feel how nature and culture harmonize here.
A Kansai model route takes you from Mount Kōya to the Kumano Kodo.
Depart Osaka with a full charge and climb into the Kii Mountains to reach Mount Kōya at 800 meters. Stay the night and savor shōjin ryōri—sesame tofu, seasonal mountain vegetables, pickles made with spring water. Understated, deeply nourishing, it invites you to listen to the voice of each ingredient.
At daybreak, visit Okunoin, mossy and serene, and fill your lungs with fresh air before descending in your EV toward Kumano. Charging stands dot Hashimoto and Tanabe, so you can replenish during breaks.
Along the World Heritage Kumano Kodo, walk stretches of stone-paved paths under cryptomeria—mystical corridors echoing with the steps of pilgrims past.
After visiting Kumano Hongu Taisha and Nachi Taisha by car, head toward Shingu for local specialties. Try “mehari-zushi,” fist-sized rice bundles wrapped in pickled takana leaves—said to have fueled Kumano’s seafarers.
There’s more: tuna rice bowls in Nachikatsuura, umeboshi and umeshu made with Kishu Nanko plums. In an EV’s quiet cabin, the sounds of birds and rivers accompany you through forests and gorges.
With no exhaust, you breathe cleaner air as you slowly engage with local food and culture—a trip that recharges both you and your car.
If you want to delve into the histories and fermentation wisdom behind these rare foods, visiting related museums and archives makes for an ideal journey. While there are few “chinmi-only” museums, facilities focused on fermentation and food culture have been opening across Japan.
In Nagaoka, Niigata, “Settayamachi Fermentation Museum—Rice Storehouse” is a renovated brewery founded in the Meiji era. Once home to a brewer of the crimson “saffron medicinal wine,” it now houses labs and a café where you can learn about the region’s miso, soy sauce, sake, and fermentation culture. Reopened in 2020, it’s gaining attention as a new hub in “brewery town” Nagaoka (*1).
Inside, massive wooden vats and vintage tools sit alongside artful displays that let you experience the microbial world—engaging even for fermentation newcomers.
In Handa, Aichi, the MIZKAN Museum is another perfect spot to deepen your understanding of chinmi culture. Run by the vinegar maker, it showcases the history of vinegar and fermented seasonings like miso and shoyu through films and exhibits, and it highlights how “nigiri-zushi” emerged as a preserved food using vinegar in the Edo period. In 2025, a special exhibition titled “A Thousand Years of Sushi” explores the journey from ancient narezushi to modern sushi.
Regional narezushi such as funazushi and salmon rice-fermented izushi are, in many ways, the lineage of chinmi itself. Seeing full-scale models and panels brings traditional foods to life—reflecting everyday lives and wisdom across eras and igniting your curiosity.
Elsewhere, you’ll find tourable miso and shoyu breweries, brewing museums attached to sake breweries, corporate theme parks like “OH!!!—Fermentation, Health, and the Magic of Food” (Hanno, Saitama), and hands-on fermentation hubs like “CAMOCY” (Rikuzentakata, Iwate). If you find such facilities on your route, don’t miss them. Discovering the fermentation and preservation techniques and the local stories behind chinmi will deepen your appreciation with every bite.
Jumping into the world of chinmi and trying it yourself can be a highlight you’ll never forget. Across Japan, workshops on fermentation and traditional foods sometimes focus specifically on chinmi and preserved dishes.
Near Amanohashidate in Kyoto Prefecture, the long-established fish wholesaler “Kanemasu” in Miyazu offers an authentic dried-fish workshop. It starts at the harbor with fish landed that very morning—you choose your fish, then learn to clean and salt it with local staff before drying it to perfection in the plant’s drying room. At lunchtime, you grill your creation over charcoal for a tasting—a true luxury (*2).
Participants are amazed by how much flavor concentrates in even a short drying. With pros offering one-on-one guidance, even first-timers handle fish with confidence. Experiencing the full cycle—honoring life and making preserved food—naturally inspires respect for the ingenuity of those who came before us.
There are other unique programs, too. In Fukui, a volunteer group hosts an annual “heshiko-making” workshop each autumn. Heshiko is a traditional fermented fish of the Wakasa region: mackerel salted, then buried in rice bran for over a year.
Participants salt mackerel in early summer and bury it in a bran barrel, leaving it to mature until the following year. Because the process is long, the organizers handle interim care, but your own carefully buried fish returns to you a year later.
Amber-hued after its long fermentation, heshiko melds bran and fish umami into an ultimate chinmi. The taste of your own heshiko is incomparable—and so is the joy of touching a “living tradition.” These programs go beyond cooking lessons: they are embodied lessons in local food culture.
It may seem daunting for travelers, but more programs now offer English support, and you’ll see international guests enjoying fermentation workshops. After hands-on miso making and soy pressing, perhaps one day there will be English-friendly classes on salt-cured seafoods or even kusaya.
If your curiosity runs deep, consider expert-led events and seminars popping up around Japan under banners like “Fermentation Tourism” and “Gastronomy Tourism.”
In 2025, the three Tokai prefectures—Aichi, Gifu, and Mie—hosted a large-scale event titled “Fermentation Tourism Tokai: A Pilgrimage to Umami.” Curated by fermentation designer Hirokazu Ogura, it centered on two special exhibitions themed around miso, tamari shoyu, mirin, white soy sauce, and narezushi, and unfolded over about two months with more than 50 brewery openings and 100 fermentation experience programs (*3).
From miso-making at regional breweries and guided tours of historic shoyu makers to sake tastings and special fermented-cuisine menus, the program drew many participants including visitors from overseas.
Organizers position Tokai as the “Umami Capital of the World,” aiming to share the depth of its fermentation culture domestically and internationally (*4). In October, Handa also hosted a “World SUSHI Summit,” an international exchange themed on narezushi, sushi’s origins—gathering chefs and researchers (*4). Fermentation and chinmi are becoming conduits that connect regions with the world.
Don’t overlook food-culture seminars by local governments and tourism boards either. Ishikawa, for example, has hosted lectures on fermented foods and talks with leading researchers of Noto’s fish sauce, ishiru.
In Iwate’s Sanriku, groups of women working in seafood processing lead workshops and exchanges to teach regional chinmi. Conversations with locals often range from recipes to daily life and faith.
Meeting a fermentation master or a regional food scholar by chance—and hearing their passionate stories—can become a treasured moment for culture-seeking travelers. Tasting chinmi with expert insight adds depth and leaves a lasting impression.
Japan’s chinmi carry cultural and social meaning far beyond gastronomy. Nagasaki’s karasumi, Fukui’s shiouni (salted uni), and Aichi’s konowata—Japan’s three great delicacies—are the standard-bearers, with histories as prestigious tribute foods.
You’ll also find distinctive regional chinmi such as Ishikawa’s fugu roe nukazuke and Akita’s iburigakko. Rooted in preserved-food traditions and sustainable fisheries, they symbolize a Japanese ethos of living in balance with nature.
Blending chinmi with organic ingredients and exploring them through environmentally conscious travel harmonize these traditions with a modern eco-lifestyle. Through hands-on programs and exchanges with experts, you can rediscover the depth of Japanese knowledge and the richness of regional culture. Chinmi are, truly, an intellectual journey distilled from Japan’s traditions and culture—one you’re warmly invited to savor.