Stories
15
The bowl that becomes a meal
In Japan, donburi means a deep bowl; it also evokes the meal served in it: rice topped with ingredients prepared to accompany it. The vessel gave its name to the dish. To see why, imagine what happens when foods are no longer placed side by side. They come together, and each bite can contain flavours that might otherwise have been eaten separately.
The taste that stays at the bottom
At the end of a bowl of pasta, a little sauce may still remain. The fork has carried away the final pieces, but the plate holds the juices of the mushrooms, melted Parmesan and the flavour coaxed from each ingredient by heat. Someone returns with a piece of bread. It is a small gesture that says something simple: a meal’s flavour can continue after the food has gone.
The Meal Begins Before the First Bite
In 1920s Tokyo, a restaurateur began designing plates for his own restaurant. Why care so much about a meal? Kitaōji Rosanjin ran Hoshigaoka Saryō, where seasonality and presentation mattered alongside the cooking. The Smithsonian holds six small dishes connected with his restaurant, bearing its star emblem. The mark reminds us that care for a meal can extend to the clay on which it is served.
The Weave That Holds
In what is now Saga Prefecture, late in the Jōmon period and long before Arita’s workshops, a shallow bowl was formed against a flexible material. Interlacing plant fibres left impressions on the clay’s outer surface. The woven support disappeared, but fragments of the bowl survived. Much later, researchers read those marks as evidence that woven fabric helped shape the wet clay. Read the Ichihara History Museum’s research ↗
The mist the hand finds again
The bowl stands empty on the table. Its opening is wide, its walls slope gently towards the centre, and its rounded rim draws a simple line. From a distance its colour seems even. Come closer: tiny flecks are scattered across the very pale, earth-toned grey. Some areas are lighter; others seem slightly veiled. Inside, there is relief that can be felt. The eye catches the shifts in shade, while the hand discovers that the surface is not perfectly smooth.
The circle of seven herbs
On the sand-coloured surface of the Saladier — Sable, seven small handfuls of greens still lie apart. Lamb's lettuce almost meets the rocket; watercress keeps its place; chopped herbs have yet to disappear into a dressing. Someone pauses to look at them before mixing. At that moment, the bowl receives a wish.
When a bowl deserves a thank-you
In Arita, 679 bowls form a ceremonial mikoshi made with the help of 62 pottery workshops. Each year, people can also bring a bowl that has chipped, broken, or simply reached the end of its use.
From 180 ml to Two Litres
A handleless cup of 180 ml; a large salad bowl of 2 litres. Both belong to the Raw Earth collection, yet the second holds roughly eleven times as much as the first. Set them side by side and they tell a story beyond measurements: one comes close to a single hand, while the other draws several people towards the middle of the table.
Rice Water
Kakiemon white, the grain of understated ceramics, and two Japanese ways of looking at a ceramic surface
Arita Is Also Called Imari
Two names around a porcelain tradition: Arita names a place of making; Imari names the port through which many pieces travelled. In Europe, it was often the port’s name that endured.
The Yellow of Jingdezhen
Take a Yunhuang piece and turn it over. Before the foot ring, before the mark, before anything else, look at the edge.
A bowl for each person, a table to share
Imagine a dinner for two. A dish of vegetables sits in the middle of the table. Each person has a bowl in front of them.