“Hey, lucky you!”

That is what my friends always say when they hear I am going to Kanazawa.

And they are right—the city has a lot to offer.

Kanazawa is located about midway along the coast of Honshu, on the Sea of Japan side. Today it is the capital of Ishikawa Prefecture, and in the old days it was a feudal stronghold of the Kaga domain. The first lord of that domain was a military commander, Maeda Toshiie, who fought on the winning side during Japan's times of civil strife. In 1583 he took up residence in Kanazawa Castle, and he and another 13 generations of Maeda lords lived there. The Maeda family encouraged industry, especially handcrafts. Pottery, porcelain, lacquer ware, dyeing and other crafts became part of a vibrant local crafts culture that was among the finest in the country.

The nearby sea, fields and mountains offered a plentiful supply of food, and refined culinary arts flourished in the prosperous castle town of Kanazawa, the seat of local feudal authority. I went to Kanazawa to taste its food and see some of its handcraft stores and ateliers.
The time was early November, when the city was getting ready for winter.

I got off at JR's Kanazawa Station and went first to the Omi-cho Ichiba market, the best place to buy fresh local food. The market has more than 170 stalls, all close together, all crammed with things for sale—everything from fresh fish, vegetables and fruit to everyday articles. The morning had brought out a large crowd, most of whom appeared to be housewives, restaurant chefs and tourists.

A salesman's voice rang out: “Low prices, low prices, come and get some zuwai-gani crab... Now's the time 'cause the season just opened!” A naked light bulb shone on the freshly boiled crab, highlighting the brilliant red. It had a temptingly sweet smell, and the seller called out to me in the local dialect: “Young man, try a piece, now's your chance!” He gave me a piece and I bit into it. The more I chewed, the sweeter it seemed, the taste mixing with an aroma that brought back memories of the sea. I only wish I could describe better how delicious it was. His stall was piled high with other plump-looking seafood as well, like yellowtail, cod, sweet shrimp and sea urchin—all hard to catch in the Sea of Japan when the waves are rough in winter. The vegetable stand next to his was a colorful mass of unusual local specialties: gensuke daikon radish, Kaga lotus root, and a leafy vegetable called kinjiso.

With all this abundance of fresh food from the sea, fields and hills, I suppose it is only natural that the local cuisine, Kaga ryori, is so good. “But a good restaurant has to do more than just serve tasty food,” Koshizawa Keita tells me. He is the deputy manager of Suginoi, a first-class traditional restaurant on the bank of the Sai River.

My table at Suginoi had tidbits made with the innards and other parts of a creature called sea cucumber, sushi featuring salt-pickled yellowtail and turnip preserved in malted rice, bai shellfish boiled in a soy sauce broth, broiled fish, simmered foods and more. Everything had obviously been prepared with care and finesse, and the taste was great. But before digging in, I found it all very nice to look at, too.

The restaurant offers a lot more than fine cuisine. The building is charming, in the traditional Japanese style, and the view of the garden from the tatami mat floor is as delectable as the food. Koshizawa says, “We want to help you relax like you would at home, plus enjoy the experience of food you would never eat there.”

The food is served on fine Kaga lacquer ware and colorful Kutani ware porcelain, each a part of a harmonious set of dinnerware that brings out the flavors even more. As they say, Kaga cuisine comes into its own with such a harmonious selection of plates and dishes.

I decided to see one of the places where that porcelain is made, so I visited the Kutani Kosen kiln in the No-machi district. It is the only Kutani kiln in the city where every step of the porcelain-making process—from throwing clay on a wheel to the first unglazed firing to completing the final glazed illustrations—is done by hand.

Toshioka Koichiro, the fifth generation owner of the kiln, stopped his potter's wheel and looked up at me: “Kutani ware is unique in its bold use of five colors: red, yellow, green, purple and dark blue.” He studied ceramic art at university and came home about two years ago to take over his family's kiln operation.

The last places I visited were Kanazawa Castle, the symbol of the city, and Kenroku-en, which is ranked among Japan's three most famous traditional gardens.

The castle met disaster numerous times from lightning and fire, and today just about all that remains are some magnificent stone walls and the Ishikawa Gate, which was reconstructed in the late 1700s. The castle grounds are now a park for the enjoyment of city residents.

I passed under the Ishikawa Gate and soon found myself in the famous garden. Kenroku-en was developed over a period of about 170 years, beginning in the latter part of the 17th century. It swallowed up huge amounts of money from the feudal lords' domain. Brooks meander about, small hills stand above the many gentle ups and downs of the landscape, and large pines and stone lanterns highlight the garden's many features. Yuki-tsuri rope work protected the trees from the heavy snow. Every year, the ropes are part of Kanazawa's winter postcard scenery. They are suspended from the tops of poles above the trees to support the many branches below, and make geometrical patterns that have a beauty of their own. Here, too, you will see how successful the people of Kanazawa are in their search for that special aesthetic effect.

Yes, Kanazawa was getting ready for the long winter and the snows that would soon color the landscape a different hue.