Mt. Fuji, one bite at a time

I’ve never climbed Mt. Fuji.

I’ve thought about it many times, and I know so many people who have done it, but somehow it never quite happened.

What I have done, though, is collect a surprising number of Mt. Fuji–shaped things.

And recently, this very precise little yokan.

For those who don’t know it, yokan is a traditional Japanese sweet made from red bean paste, sugar, and agar. It has a firm, jelly-like texture and is usually served in slices with tea. Simple, but very satisfying in a quiet kind of way.

This one is layered in red and white to recreate Mt. Fuji, complete with its iconic snowy peak. Smooth, slightly translucent, and very carefully shaped. Even the proportions feel intentional.

There is something about that silhouette that just works. You see it and instantly know what it is, even in the simplest form.

What I’ve always liked is how Mt. Fuji shows up in everyday life in Japan like this.

Not as something distant or grand, but as something you can hold, taste, and share. A small dessert. A neatly packaged souvenir. Something you bring to someone and say, “I thought you might like this.”

This little yokan actually inspired me to go one step further and make proper matcha to go with it.

I used to study tea ceremony, both in Japan and later again in Belgium, so it felt like returning to a familiar rhythm. The quiet preparation, the attention to detail, the moment of pause before drinking.

My husband was very pleased.

And I have to admit, it made the whole experience even more enjoyable.

In a way, these small moments say a lot.

About care. About presentation. About taking something iconic and making it part of everyday connection.

Maybe one day I’ll actually climb Mt. Fuji.

But for now, I’m quite happy enjoying the miniature, edible version.