Japanese winter traditions: Nabé and Thanksgiving

Winter in Japan has a way of slowing life down. The cold seeps into old houses without central heating, and you learn to layer up, to savor warmth wherever you can find it.

For me, that warmth came in the form of a steaming pot of nabé, my first taste back in Komatsu in 1997. What I love about nabé is how easy it is to make, even now that I live outside Japan. A simple broth, fresh vegetables, tofu, and a few slices of meat can turn any chilly evening into something special.

“Nabé” actually means “pot” in Japanese, and that’s exactly what it is: a big communal pot placed at the center of the table, where everyone cooks and eats together.

I still remember that evening vividly. A new friend brought over all the material and ingredients, and there it was: a simple pot bubbling away on a portable stove in the middle of the table. Hakusai (Napa cabbage), tofu, mushrooms, thin slices of pork, all simmering in a spicy broth that smelled like comfort itself.

It was kimchi nabé, my favorite from that day forward. Komatsu had a sizable Korean community, Korea is just a short flight away, and their influence was everywhere, from the local markets to the flavors that warmed our winters.

That first nabé wasn’t just a meal; it was an opening. Soon, friends began dropping by often, each visit a chance to gather around the pot, add ingredients, and linger over conversation. In a town where the cold could feel isolating, nabé built a sense of belonging. It turned winter evenings into something to look forward to, a ritual of togetherness.

Nabé has a long history in Japan, stretching back centuries. Originally, it was a practical way to cook over a hearth, using seasonal vegetables and whatever protein was available. Over time, it evolved into a shared experience, a dish that brings people together around the same pot. Regional variations tell their own stories: Hokkaido’s ishikari-nabé with salmon and miso, Kyushu’s motsu-nabé with beef tripe, and countless others. But the essence remains the same: warmth, community, and the slow rhythm of cooking and eating together.

After that first winter, I bought a big nabé pot of my own. It’s actually way too large for just two people, as you’ll see in the photo, but I keep using it because it’s precious to me. It’s now nearly 30 years old and has traveled the globe with me, a constant companion through countless winters. Still, every time I set it on the table, it takes me back to that first night in Komatsu: the laughter, the steam rising from the pot, the way the spicy broth chased away the chill.

We don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, but nabé reminds me of the same spirit: the importance of gathering, sharing food, and being thankful for the people around us. It’s more than food, it’s a reminder that in the coldest seasons, we can create warmth by gathering, sharing, and savoring the moment.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving!