From last autumn to this summer, I attended the Gion Festival in Kyoto, the Nara Tōkō-ji Exhibition Memorial Festival in Nara, and the Ueno River Fireworks Festival in Tokyo. If there was anything that stood out most about these celebrations, apart from the lively ceremonies and the brilliant lights, it was the delicious food hidden in the corners and alleys, and the tents and stalls - they weren't exquisite kaiseki cuisine, but they carried the most vivid aroma of fire and life. When you took a bite, the mouthwatering aroma of the crispy pastry mixed with the sweet fragrance of red bean paste, and it carried the memory of the celebration all the way to your heart. During the Gion Festival, the stone-paved roads of Chikagō Kōgō-cho were lined with lanterns hanging with wind chimes. At a corner, a wooden sign reading "Sashimi Shop" caught my eye. Behind the stall, the white-haired Suzuki grandpa was gently stirring the imitation sashimi in the molds with a small spatula. The smoky aroma of the crispy pastry mingled with the sweet fragrance of red bean paste, drifting far away in the cool autumn wind. "Young lady, do you want the freshly made ones? My wife boiled the red bean filling in the early morning and didn't add too much sugar." He smiled and handed me a sashimi wrapped in a paper bag, still warm from the mold. When I broke the crispy crust, the soft red bean paste flowed down my chin, sweet but not greasy. By the time I chewed to the end, I could still taste the faint milkiness of the pastry crust. Next to them were several middle school students in yukata, each holding a sashimi, chasing after each other's shadows. Their laughter and the tinkling of the wind chimes mixed together, becoming the gentleest note of the Gion Festival. During the Nara Tōkō-ji Exhibition Memorial Festival, it was raining, but the food stalls in front of Todai-ji Temple remained lively. While queuing under an umbrella to buy "Nara Persimmon Leaf Sushi", the elderly woman in front of me chatted with me: "This sushi uses local Yūgō rice and is wrapped in persimmon leaves, which can last for three days and still has the fragrance of persimmons." After getting the sushi, peeling off the dark green persimmon leaves, the rice grains were clearly distinguishable, wrapped in a faint vinegar aroma. Taking a bite, the soft and glutinous rice and the pleasant fragrance of the persimmon leaves spread throughout my mouth, and even after eating two, I still couldn't feel full. The stall owner said that every year during the festival, they would use freshly picked persimmon leaves to make sushi, "The customers are all regulars, and some even bring several boxes back to share with their families." The most lively part was the food street at the Ueno River Fireworks Festival. In the evening, red tents lined up along the riverbank, the "zing-zing" sound of grilled meat skewers, the "gut-gut" sound of squid balls, and the enthusiastic shouts of the stall owners all merged into a lively symphony. I stopped at a stall selling "Kakushi Sushi", and the owner, a young woman named Sasaki, was using a small spatula to help customers stir the iron plate on which the kakushi sushi was made. "You should eat it while it's still warm, it's the best flavor." She handed me the spatula and the iron plate on which the batter was wrapped with cabbage and squid pieces, with an enticing aroma. I followed her example and stirred, when the batter became golden and crispy, I scooped a spoonful and put it in my mouth. The outside was crispy and the inside was soft, the delicious taste exploded in my mouth. Sasaki said, "I started selling at the festival when I was in high school, following my mother. Every time I see the customers enjoying themselves, I feel extremely satisfied." That night, holding the kakushi sushi, watching the fireworks in the sky, the food still steaming in my hands, my heart was warm. After going through these celebrations, I realized that the food at Japanese festivals was never just for filling your stomach. It was wrapped with the stall owner's dedication, hidden with the warmth between people, and carried the unique liveliness and vitality of the celebration. Just like Suzuki grandpa's sashimi, the persimmon leaf sushi from Nara, and Sasaki's kakushi sushi, every bite was a unique memory, making me, even after leaving for a long time, unable to help but think of that warm taste on my tongue.
