Not medicine, but food: the Katori persimmon vinegar born out of illness

Have you ever fallen ill and thought about changing what you eat?

In Katori, Chiba Prefecture, Hiroyuki Miyazaki (宮嵜博之) and his wife Kazumi (和美) run a small workshop between the two of them: Sunomiya Jozosho. What they make is persimmon vinegar. The only ingredient is persimmon, and no water is added. The fermentation is left to the rhythm of the four seasons, and after that the vinegar rests for more than three years.

This vinegar came out of the years Hiroyuki spent facing his own illness. We asked about that starting point, and about why he has kept to a method that takes so much out of him.

When the medicine stopped working, what he arrived at was food

(Unless noted otherwise, the words below are Hiroyuki's.)

— I heard you first met persimmon vinegar at a shokuyo (dietary healing) dojo in Izu (伊豆).

That's right. I started out as a systems engineer, and after that I was at a town-planning company. I was nowhere near the world of food.

In my late 20s I was found to have ulcerative colitis. I was taking medication, but bit by bit it stopped working, and things only got worse. Through my wife's family I was introduced to the dojo of Ryuzo Akiyama (秋山龍三), a shokuyo practitioner in Izu. Persimmon vinegar was what I was taught there.

— What was the diet like?

A small sake cup of persimmon vinegar every day, and otherwise brown rice, fish and vegetables. That was all. It was never a story about persimmon vinegar on its own; I swapped out everything I ate. Around half a year in, I had the sense that things were slowly changing.

— When did you decide to make your own experience into your work?

Breaking my own body was, in the end, down to my own failure to look after myself. Coming out of that, wanting to make this persimmon vinegar was an extension of protecting my body, and then my family's. And from there, wanting to get it to our customers.

There is also a road where you don't lean on medication alone, but rethink what you eat. I wanted to tell people struggling with the same illness that this option exists. That's where it began.

Since moving to Katori, the batches stopped failing

— I heard you were making it in Saitama at first.

Yes. We moved from Saitama to Katori.

— Were there other places you considered?

I was thinking about Ueda (上田市) in Nagano. What put it in my head was hearing that Nagano is very serious about food education. There was a story about a primary school where the children had become unruly, and when the school lunches were changed to a Japanese-food menu the children settled down, so I thought about making persimmon vinegar in Ueda. But Ueda is cold. When it's cold, fermentation doesn't move. So I gave that up.

— Why Katori in the end?

One reason was that my family home is close by. The other is this land itself. Katori Jingu (香取神宮) is nearby, and the soil and the air of the area are good. The bacteria living in the land and the air are good, so they ferment it into something delicious.

Persimmons alone, without a drop of water

— Of all the fruits there are, why persimmon?

Persimmons have a sugar content of 12 to 14 degrees, and after fermentation the alcohol comes to 6 to 7%. That is just the right balance for acetic fermentation. So nothing needs to be added. I think persimmon is the only fruit that can carry natural fermentation entirely by itself.

— Is that also why you add no water?

There's no need to add it. I hear there are labeling standards for fruit drinks under which something diluted with water can still be labeled "100% juice" in some cases. But we use no water and no enzyme agents at all. Only persimmons.

— Where do the persimmons come from?

Persimmon growers around Lake Kasumigaura (霞ヶ浦) in Ibaraki. We've been working together for more than 10 years now. In 2024 the extreme heat, the stink bugs and the rain meant they harvested only about half of a normal year. It differs completely from year to year.

— How does the brewing go?

When the persimmons come in the autumn, we take off the calyx, wash them and dry them in the sun. Then we cut them up with the seeds and skins and put them into the tanks. That brewing takes around three weeks, and through it we work from 8:30 to 17:30 every day.

From there the yeast on the persimmons goes to work by itself, turning the sugar into alcohol. From autumn into winter, the persimmons slump into something like a melted mush.

— And when spring comes?

The image is of acetic acid bacteria drifting down onto it. Before that we put the moromi (the fermenting mash) into sake bags and press it by hand. The liquid that comes out smells of yeast; persimmon wine, really. As the temperature rises, the acetic acid bacteria work on that, and it turns into vinegar.

* Moromi is what the fermenting persimmons become once they have gone thick and slurry-like. The liquid is pressed out from here.

— I hear ordinary persimmon vinegar is finished in about four months.

We leave ours fermenting until August. After that we age it for more than three years. There's a depth and a body that only time brings out.

Early on the persimmon flavor is pointed, like a lump of energy, with the acid standing up. As it rests, that rounds out.

— Do you control the temperature?

We don't. We don't move the temperature artificially; we leave it to the rhythm of the four seasons. The balance of acetic acid bacteria changes from year to year, and it's a given that the taste changes the moment we switch tanks.

— I heard you neither filter nor pasteurize.

Filter it too much and the enzymes, the acetic acid bacteria and the umami all go out with it. So we don't filter, and we don't apply heat. It stays alive. A film of acetic acid bacteria sometimes forms on the surface, but there is no problem in eating it.

— What do you mean by alive?

The taste simply changes; it doesn't go bad. Because it's alive. We print a date, but it isn't that the vinegar is no good once that date passes. The quality doesn't drop, and the longer it sits, the more umami there is.

— Why don't you publish a table of components?

We deliberately don't. There's a component table for persimmons, isn't there. If you added all of that up, would you get a persimmon? You wouldn't.

— No, you wouldn't.

It's made out of the part that isn't that, so what does saying the components alone get you? In the end, nature holds together within the part that people still don't understand. That's the given. Lining up only the components we know today doesn't carry across the goodness of what can't be seen.

Being known by a lot of people is not the final goal

— Who are your closest customers?

Kazumi: Many of them think hard about food, and many are thinking about their families. Some tell us it's for their family's health, not only their own.

In 10 years of doing this we've had almost no complaints from customers. I think it's because many of them hold their own views and can judge for themselves. They rarely ask us to tell them everything.

— So they aren't choosing on components or effects.

Kazumi: There aren't many customers who say "this is in it, so it's good" or "it has this effect, so it's good." I think most of them feel the goodness of the part you can't see.

— You also sell at Takashimaya (高島屋) and elsewhere.

We stand at the counter regularly. Once people get to know the quality, a lot of customers say, "thank you for making this."

— It doesn't feel as though you are aiming to be widely known.

Wanting a lot of people to know about us isn't the final thing. I think it's enough if it reaches the places it ought to reach.

Day to day we try to keep careful communication with each customer, one at a time. And beyond that, I think there are things that carry across through the vinegar itself.

— Does that reach the customer?

I think it does. We hear from a lot of customers that "your feelings come through." Even without putting it into words, I think something carries across in how it's delivered, or in the sensation when you drink it.

— How do you recommend using it?

Kazumi: It goes with dressed vegetables, with pickles, and with meat dishes such as gyoza. On sashimi, try a few drops over the top.

Let it reach where it ought to reach

— Who would you like it to reach from here?

Someone who meets our vinegar and feels that they need it, perhaps.

I'd like people to enjoy the good things of an ordinary day, and to feel their body held well while they do.

But the most important thing is that people are part of nature too, and we are allowed to live within it. That sense of gratitude is the one thing we must never forget. Wanting to carry that across is what sits behind all of it. I hope people can feel, in their daily lives, that they are being kept alive.

Persimmons alone, no water, three years.

The persimmons brewed in autumn melt in winter, turn to vinegar in spring, and go into bottles only after the fourth summer counted from the brewing. Through all of it, what the Miyazakis do is neither to work the temperature nor to add anything. They leave it to the persimmons, to the bacteria of this land and to the four seasons, and they wait. That is how it seemed.

So this vinegar keeps the weather of its year, and the habits of its tank, just as they were. That the same taste never continues is something the two of them called a given.

Start by keeping it on the table, and putting a few drops on a dish you always make. Three years of time is sitting there.

[Sunomiya Jozosho] 474-1 Niibe, Katori, Chiba Prefecture (千葉県香取市新部474-1) Official site: https://kakisu.com Online shop: https://sunomiya.stores.jp/

Frequently asked questions

What does persimmon vinegar taste like?

As it ages it grows rounder, and people say it has little of the sharp sting of ordinary vinegar. Sunomiya Jozosho's "Kososhu Kaki no Shinzui" rests for more than three years, which is said to take the edge off the acid. If you find sourness difficult, try starting with a few drops over natto, in a dipping sauce for gyoza, or on karaage.

Why can vinegar be made from persimmons alone?

Persimmons carry a sugar content of 12 to 14 degrees and reach 6 to 7% alcohol after fermentation, which is said to be just the right balance for acetic fermentation. That is why they can be fermented on their own, with no water and no sugar added. Hiroyuki Miyazaki of Sunomiya Jozosho told us, "I think persimmon is the only fruit that can carry natural fermentation entirely by itself."

What is "nigori" vinegar?

It refers to vinegar left cloudy, with no filtering and no heating (pasteurization). The acetic acid bacteria and the enzymes are said to remain alive in it. A film of acetic acid bacteria may form on the surface, but this is no problem for quality and the vinegar can be used as it is.