OUR EIGHTH ISSUE IS A GLIMPSE OF JAPAN THROUGH THE KINFOLK LENS. It highlights what we love about this unique country. We cast a wide net and narrowed our focus on Japan, whose culture seems to echo many of the same principles we try to live by. We are excited to share all the photographs, recipes, skills and ideas our contributors put together for this stunningly beautiful issue. This issue is a collaborative project that involved many artists who contributed essays, photographs, ideas, paintings and films. It features: • Interviews with Eatrip’s Yuri Nomura, ceramic artist Ryota Aoki and Fog Linen’s Yumiko Sekine. • Profiles of Oakland’s Ramen Shop, the duo behind L.A.’s Tortoise & Tortoise General Store, Tokyo Coffee Shops, Japanese expats in New York and Londoners outside a Japanese market. • Photo essays include Escape to Kamakura and a super-kawaii family in Osaka. • Recipes for Cherry Blossom Macarons with Black Sesame, Salt-Pickled Napa Cabbage, Wakame Cucumber Salad, Red Bean Mochi and Matcha. • Harvest essays on green tea, wakame seaweed and wasabi. • Instructions, practical skills and guides for learning shibori (hand dyeing indigo fabric); making origami paper blossoms; and creating beautiful floral arrangements using ikebana. • Thoughtful essays on Japanese concepts such as wabisabi, mono no aware and ichi-go ichi-e; the ever-changing landscape of Tokyo’s architecture; Japanese gardens; comfort food; Japanese characters and a summer playlist. “This issue is an ode to a country and culture we deeply admire. We don’t consider ourselves cultural experts—our approach has been smaller in scope and more intimate and personal. This issue is a glimpse of Japan through the Kinfolk lens; it highlights what we love about this unique country, including the basic values, skills and recipes that come together to form the beautifully simple lifestyle we know is worth exploring. It’s doubtful that any one person, team or country can take credit for creating a simple, balanced, grounded food lifestyle, but many of our Japanese friends are excellent contenders. We are eager to share all the inspiration, recipes and tips we have learned from them.” —Editor Nathan Williams
This is the first issue of Kinfolk that I ever read. I don't remember how I came across it, and I originally read it online, but I loved it enough to subscribe immediately. It's been almost two years since I read this issue, and in the meantime I ordered a copy of the physical magazine, so today while I'm home on sick leave, I curled up in a chair next to the window and read it to see if I liked it just as much as I did the first time. And the short answer is yes.
The article on Soul Food reminded me of something I was talking with my friends about just a few days ago. I don't have a huge attachment to most of the foods that I ate as a child. At the time it seemed like I was a picky eater, but it turned out that I just didn't really like most Midwestern American food, and when we moved to Japan I switched from having cheese, hummus and crackers, and yogurt for breakfast to having salmon, pickled vegetables, rice, tea, and miso soup. Now, I could never go back, and breakfast and pickles are inextricably bound together in my mind to the point where the brunch craze has almost entirely passed me by. You mean, the Temple of Waffles doesn't have tsukemono? Eh, pass.
I loved the proverbs listed in Old Lives Tales, but I'm disappointed that Kinfolk didn't mention the tradition behind yojijukugo, four-kanj proverbs like the included 十人十色 ("To each his own") or 三日坊主 ("to give up easily"). There were plenty of non-yojijukugo proverbs there, which might be why the article didn't mention it, but it's such a rich field that I think the whole article could have sustained it. There are thousands of them, many of which can be read here. Some of my favorite are 尊王攘夷 ("revere the Emperor and expel the barbarians!" the battle cry of the ishin shishi), 人海戦術 (literally "human-wave tactics," meaning just throwing people at a problem to solve it), or 富貴浮雲 ("Here today, gone tomorrow").
Escape to Kamakura reminded me of the trip that I took there with my wife when my parents came to visit. We went to the Daibutsu at Kōtoku-in, but the bamboo pictures in the photo essay reminded me of how we got lost in the hill trails above the temple, came on a shrine to Inari set back in a hidden valley, and later had mitarashi dango at Zeniarai Benten Shrine before finding a road and working our way back to the main trails. It's a stupid cliche, but it really is true that some of the best experiences when traveling around found off the beaten track, when you're not sure exactly where you are.
The wabi-sabi worship in articles about Japan tends to irk me--they literally build their houses to fall apart in only a couple decades, and land with a house is worth less than land without one because it's assumed that the new owner will just tear everything down and build a new house anyway--but Wabi Sabi Peace actually deflected my ire by opening with the story about tea cups. Using old items even if they aren't perfect anymore and thinking of the memories inherent in them as you do it? That's a perfect example of proper wabi-sabi. My wife and I have an old pickle bowls that is chipped and has part of the lip cracked off, but it was made by her uncle for our wedding, and every time I eat out of it I remember all the other breakfasts I've used it for.
King of Clay reminded me of a (rather perfunctory due to my bad Japanese) conversation with a potter in an Osaka museum, and I liked the message that Aoki-san had about inspiration in work. Don't be inspired by the specifics of something else, but be inspired by the spirit of it and then make it your own. It's a noble sentiment, and even though some great works have been made by shamelessly copying others' effort and then changing it--see the huge list of variations on a theme at Wikipedia--but overall, I think the advice to keep the spirit, not the shape, is the better path.
The cup of hot sencha I drank while writing this review seems like a perfect complement. I loved this issue just as much this time as I did the first time I read it, and I think that everyone else with even a passing interest in Japan, Japanese food, or Japanese art will too.
Technically this is a magazine, as it comes out four times a year, though this is called 'Volume' 8, not 'Issue' 8 if that makes any difference to you. The main thing that makes it closer to a book is that it has literally NO advertising of any kind. Not even one page! Amazing in this day and age. Although you have to pay more for it, obviously. But it's worth it with carefully curated material like this. Obviously, it has been well-designed by people who know their stuff. And in this case, it's all about Japan (only volume 8), which I love. The photography is particularly lovely; it's a little light on words, but they are chosen well. If you love food, handmade products, Japanese culture, or just something fresh and different in the world of magazine publishing, then you won't be disappointed.
I LOVE this magazine. So beautifully put together and feels more like a book. Stylish, elegant and simple. This particular volume is a glimpse into the Japanese culture. Gorgeous photography, interviews, prose and more.
There were so many interesting articles, tips, instructions, insights and opinions into All Things Japan, reminding me of my time there, and having me wish so much that I could revisit.
The photographs are beautiful. The design of the magazine is beautiful. I never expect any less of Kinfolk, of course.
Beautiful. Also, the font is waaaay too small for comfortable reading. Here's hoping the Kinfolk crew change it to someone people over age 25 can see and enjoy.
As always, beautiful, ethereal, and practical. Highlights for me included the recipe for Read Bean Mochi (includes dough and filling) and the essay, Keeping Time.
I'm not sure if I understand all the fuss. It is very beautiful, but without much depth. And this is obviously a personal issue, but I found the font extremely tiny.