Kintsuba

In the "The Sea of Becoming" series of novels by Teru Miyamoto, which I was once engrossed in, there is a scene in which the protagonist opens a kintsuba shop at the foot of Funatsubashi Bridge, at the edge of Nakanoshima in Osaka.

For some reason, the description of the protagonist making kintsuba by hand has remained vividly in my mind, and whenever I see kintsuba, it comes back to me.

The other day, an acquaintance gave me some kintsuba from Ki-Yasu, in Juso, as a souvenir from Osaka.

Funatsubashi Bridge and Juso are a little way apart, but simply knowing they were Osaka kintsuba made me happy.

The kintsuba I received were more substantial than ordinary ones—so large that they were almost too much for one person to eat at once.

This time, I decided to split one in half before enjoying it.

What I like most about kintsuba is how thin the outer layer is.

Actually, I am not particularly fond of anpan or manju with thick outer layers, which is why I very much like Usukawa Manju from Kashiwaya in Koriyama, Fukushima Prefecture.

I also like crêpes because they are thin—though they are not Japanese sweets.

So, naturally, I enjoyed the kintsuba as well.

And of course, as I ate, I imagined Kongo, one of the characters, making kintsuba…