Setsugekka

As traditional foods and customs quietly fade,
we find one reason in the way our lives have changed.
It has become normal to move away from the places where we were born and raised,
and today, we can freely choose and enjoy delicious or convenient things from all over Japan—often with just a few clicks.

This freedom is a gift of the times.
But on the other hand, something gentle and irreplaceable may be slipping away:
the feeling of “here and now,” and the cultures once deeply rooted in place and time.

In the past, people lived their entire lives in the regions they were born in.
Now, we move across cities, countries, and continents with ease.
With the rise of the internet and logistics, we can instantly access food from anywhere in Japan.

It is undeniably convenient—and even wonderful in many ways.
Yet at the same time, we may be losing the experiences once woven into daily life:
eating something precisely because it comes from this region,
or looking forward to a dish that only appears in this season.

In short, our lives may have become detached from time and place.
And with that, a certain richness of living might be fading too.

Among the many aspects of culture,
we are particularly drawn to the act of sharing a meal.
It is one of our most fundamental human needs
—and as the saying goes,
“when food, clothing, and shelter are met, life can truly begin.”
Meals are not just routines; they are the foundation of how we live,
and the moments that shape our days.

Take osechi for New Year’s, or the humble onigiri, a lovingly packed bento,
or a jar of pickles passed down from a family recipe.
Each of these is more than food.
They are expressions of the land, of climate, of care and creativity.
They are food cultures born from everyday life, woven with affection and ingenuity.

We want people to have a truly delicious experience.
But to us, deliciousness is not just about flavor.

It’s not only what we eat,
but where, with whom, how we eat it.

The table that holds the food.
The people who gather around it.
The time of day. The bowl chosen with care. The space that surrounds you.
All of it comes together to create what we call “delicious.”

And in today’s world—where amazing food is available at the push of a button—
we believe that “delicious” doesn’t end with taste alone.

Who made the meal?
What were they thinking as they prepared it?
Where has it been, and how has it been used?

It’s in understanding what lies beyond the plate
that we begin to feel the true richness of a meal.

When we touch these stories behind the food,
a meal becomes more than just a sensation
—it becomes a cultural experience that lingers in memory.

And that doesn’t mean it must be expensive or formal.
Even the simplest meal—something eaten with one hand—
can be perfect, if shared with the right person,
in the right place, at the right time.

Beyond “delicious,” there is something more.
Something meaningful.
Something interesting.
At Setsugekka, we hope to offer that doorway.