Turning Mountain‑Made Ice into Tokyo’s Trendiest Dessert
High above the bustling streets of Tokyo, a humble priest taps a conch
shell while Yuichiro Yamamoto bows, thanking the nature gods for
another year’s “good harvest” – this time, in the form of crystal‑clear
ice. Yamamoto isn’t just any ice farmer; he’s one of the few surviving
arts that forego the modern fridge for a more hands‑on, open‑air method
to produce sweet, snow‑cold shaved ice that sells at chic Tokyo shops.
Reviving a Forgotten Craft
For decades, the beloved kakigori (shaved ice) that zips
through summer crowds in Japan has been made with cheaply produced
machine‑crafted ice. It was a grim reality for farmers like Yamamoto
who had to sift through dozens of tonnes of snow‑free ice every winter
and find a buyer for it. Then on came Mitsukoshi, a fancy
department store that saw potential in natural, artisanal ice and
started stocking it. This rags‑to‑rich moment marked a turning point
for Yamamoto’s company.
How It All Starts
Picture a pit–like, soccer‑field sized container, dug into mountain
soil and lined with plastic. During the autumn, workers pour spring
water into the trough, cover it with a layer of plastic, and let the
cold handle the rest. Then, the winter arrives – the stage for the
real hard work.
- Workers create a shallow pool of water, then wait for the cold to
lay down a thin, pale layer of ice. - They scrape away the icy sheet, taking away dirt, fallen leaves,
and – much like a snow‑bandit – the snow that threatens to hinder
the freeze. - Yamamoto once spent 16 continuous hours just removing snow,
underlining how serious this job can get. - Once the ice is a solid, 14 centimeters thick (after a minimum
of two weeks), they carve it into 40‑kilogram blocks, slide them
across a bamboo walkway, and store them in a room filled with
sawdust to keep them fresh.
From Ordinary to Haute‑Couture
When Yamamoto first took over the old ice‑making shop in Nikko
thirteen years ago, the price for a bowl of ordinary shaved ice was a
mere 200 yen. I’d say that’s comparable to buying a brand‑new
air‑freshener at his local shop. Since the newer ice was produced in
factories round the year – no labor, no fuss – the older method was
undoubtedly impossible to compete with. Instead, Yamamoto
re‑imagined the entire dessert, turning the cheap kakigori into
a luxury treat.
Price Point: 800 yen a bowl (bigger than your usual 300‑yen
combo), 9,000 yen per case of ice – that’s six times the price of
the original factory ice.
At first, his efforts felt like throwing pearls in the ocean – he
was tossing tonnes of ice and struggling to find buyers. After a
few months of trial and error, the breakthrough came with the
Mitsukoshi partnership. The rest – the sales, the cult‑following,
and the squeezy counters at Yanaka – followed like a good snowstorm.
The Distinctive Texture
In Yanaka, fans stand in line for a bowl of the naturally sourced
kakigori produced by a fellow Nikko ice maker. “It feels very
different when you shave it,” says Koji Morinishi, the
owner of a high‑end shaved‑ice shop.
- The ice is harder because it freezes over a longer
period. - Harder ice means you can shave thinner, perfectly flat
layers. Soft ice, on the other hand, dissolves just
too quickly – like your favorite candy melting under a hot
thumb.
Morinishi struggled when he first opened his shop; the thin ice was
not as easy to chop as he’d imagined. He persevered, building a
loyal following over the years, complete with mango, watermelon,
peach and other fruit purees topping each serving.
Demand Rocks 160 Tons a Year
Today, Yamamoto’s firm harvests a staggering 160 tons of ice
annually, and his impact has inspired two other producers to
dive into the market. When he says, “This business has become
attractive and the ice makers are all busy,” it’s a relief that
the art of natural ice is finally thriving.
From the Heian Period to the 21st Century
Once a royal delicacy reserved for Kyoto’s aristocracy, kakigori
occasionally gathered the most elaborate flavours, congealed in
mountainside holes wrapped in silver sheets. It wasn’t until 1883, when
Tokyo’s first ice‑making factory opened, that ordinary folks could
taste the treat. The rise of modern ice‑making machines reduced the
number of natural ice makers to fewer than ten across the country.
The story reminds us that even as cheap, machine‑driven goods ease
production, there’s still room for traditional, labour‑intensive
artisans who make something that simply feels a little more
soul‑ful.
