Hot Yuzu Honey

Yuzu is a knobbly, intensely fragrant citrus prized far more for its aroma than its sour juice, and no prefecture is more bound to it than Kōchi. The southern face of Shikoku grows the great majority of Japan's yuzu, and the mountain village of Umaji became almost a synonym for the fruit — a small, aging community that rebuilt its fortunes around yuzu groves and processing when other livelihoods dried up. The fruit is woven into midwinter itself: on the solstice, tōji, Japanese households have long floated whole yuzu in a hot bath, the yuzu-yu, to ward off colds and carry good health into the cold months. Warming that same fruit into a cup is only a short step from the bath.

There is almost no technique here, only care. Squeeze the yuzu, but take a little of the zest too — the peel oil carries most of the perfume. Stir the juice and zest into honey, then pour on water that has just dropped off the boil, never a hard rolling boil, which scalds the fresh citrus fragrance and flattens the honey. The cup turns cloudy gold and smells of a whole grove. Add a slice of yuzu to float or a grating of ginger for extra warmth, and drink it cradled in both hands on a cold Kōchi night — the solstice fruit, brought from the bath to the table.