The Warmth of Oden in a Cold Hokkaido Winter
The temperature in Hokkaido is rapidly dropping, and the winds feel like ice-cold air brushing against my face. Just a few more days, and winter will be here again. Winter always affects my mood, especially when there’s no sun and the skies stay gray. In fact, last week, I reached a point where I couldn’t go to work because of stress and burnout—both physically and mentally. I spent a day alone while my husband went about his usual routine. I was at my lowest, and the cold season certainly didn’t help.
That evening, my husband insisted on paying for dinner instead of me forcing myself to cook something at home just to save money. He kept insisting, and then I suddenly remembered, “Hey, it’s oden season! Why don’t we grab some oden for tonight?” Without hesitation, my Japanese husband smiled and said, “Hey, good idea! Let’s go!”
That night, as we sat together with steaming cups of oden in our hands, I felt something shift. The warmth of the broth, the soft daikon melting on my tongue, and the quiet comfort of sharing a simple meal with my husband melted away the heaviness I’d been feeling.
Oden prepared at home, using a nabe, or hot pot. (Photo by PhotoAC)
Oden isn’t just food—it’s tradition, comfort, and togetherness in a bowl. It reminds me that no matter how cold or gray life feels, there’s always something warm waiting for you, especially when shared with someone you love. That’s why oden will always be one of my favorite Japanese foods.


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