The Japanese Philosophy of Harmonizing (Aeru)
Washoku is not merely a system of Japanese cooking.
It is a culture that brings quiet balance between nature and people, and among people themselves.
Within it lives a sensibility shaped by the changing seasons―a way of reconnecting with nature, community, and self through the simple act of eating.
At the foundation of Washoku lie four interwoven layers.
First, the natural layer, where we receive the gifts of the land and sea.
Second, the practical layer, where we prepare and arrange food with care.
Third, the ethical layer, symbolized by the words itadakimasu and gochisousama―expressions of gratitude that frame each meal.
And finally, the spiritual layer―the heart of shoshin, or beginner’s mind, which welcomes each encounter as if for the first time.
When these layers overlap, Washoku becomes more than food―it becomes a culture of tasting time itself.
One of the most revealing words of this tradition is aeru.
To aeru means not simply to mix, but to harmonize―
to bring together distinct elements while preserving their individuality.
In dishes such as goma-ae or shira-ae, ingredients do not dissolve into one another;
they coexist, each quietly enhancing the other.
Behind this lies a worldview of coexistence rather than fusion,
a sense of unity born not from control, but from mutual respect.
The “wa” of aeru is the same “wa” of washoku―symbolizing harmony that breathes between human and nature, self and other.
If Western cuisine seeks evolution―creating novelty by combining contrasts―
Washoku seeks deepening.
Rather than inventing new forms, it refines the quality of existing relationships.
The cook listens for the voice of nature, refraining from imposing taste,
valuing instead the life of each ingredient as it appears in the moment.
What cannot be perfectly repeated is not a flaw, but a virtue―
a recognition that beauty lies in impermanence,
in the quiet acceptance of what can only happen once.
Washoku is also the art of time.
Spring’s mountain herbs, summer’s chilled noodles, autumn’s mushrooms, winter’s hotpot―
each season composes a gentle poem on the table.
The choice of vessel is not decoration but stage,
where food, dish, and diner form a single scene.
When this unity arises, a meal becomes a silent ceremony―
a living expression of transience and presence intertwined.
At the heart of it all flows shoshin―the beginner’s mind.
It is the openness to face each day, each meal, as though for the first time.
When we meet the familiar with new eyes, artifice disappears and harmony returns.
When cook and guest share this breath,
eating transcends nourishment and becomes an act of awakening―
a way of tasting the flow of life itself.
Even in today’s simple bowl of miso soup,
your own shoshin quietly lives on.
That is the essence of Washoku:
the Japanese philosophy of aeru―to harmonize differences into one quiet whole.
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