The Japanese farmer who grows miniature vegetables and herbs in Pals for the best Catalan chefs

MastsHis name is Hidenori Futami. He was born in Osaka, studied gardening in Tokyo, and for the past ten years has been cultivating three vegetable gardens in the town of Pals, which have become the pantry of the best Catalan restaurants. It all started when he and his wife thought about changing their careers because they didn't like what they were doing. "My wife worked as a cook in the town of Kobe; I worked as a waiter, but we both wanted to work in the fields," Hidenori explains one bright Sunday morning as we begin our tour of the first of the three vegetable gardens he rents in Pals. I tell him that there isn't a chef I interview who doesn't talk to me about him. I make a list: "He's talked to me about you in Carlos Pérez de Rozas, the Roca brothers, Rafa Peña, Jordi Cruz, Albert Raurich, Albert Adrià; and I have more names written down, but you already know them."

Río. He understands a few words in Catalan. His two sons, ages 10 and 15, speak it, he says. He and his wife struggle, he notes. Spanish speaks to him a little more, but not excessively. He laughs more than he speaks, which shows he has passion for his work, and above all, good nature. Before choosing Pals, they spent two months wandering around Catalonia looking for a place with soil where they could plant Japanese vegetable seeds. They liked Pals. Their eldest son was born in Japan, and they thought it would be ideal for a family life. A garden and a family. And so they began. "It hasn't all been easy because the soil in Japan and Catalonia are different; the Catalan soil is hard while the Japanese soil is soft," he explains, adding that he overcomes this change with fertilizer. "I add bivalves, oysters, mussels, green bean leaves, and I mix it all together; I add it to the soil, and then I can plant."

Between the three gardens, which we tour, now one, now the other, Hidenori has a total of one hectare. They work it just the two of them, and he's the one who makes the deliveries from restaurant to restaurant. "My first client in Barcelona was Albert Raurich, with whom we spoke in Japanese, especially with his wife, Tamae Ichai," he says, explaining all the difficulties he encountered the first day he entered Barcelona with his van. "Very difficult," and he laughs again. He bends down and pulls up daykon naps, which are now in season. "Not everything we plant is Japanese, because they're not easy to bring into Europe; you need a certificate." After pulling them up, he covers them again with a white cloth, which protects them. It's not plastic, it's fabric. "Turnip leaves are eaten; they're similar to spinach leaves, and in Japan they're used to make traditional broths at home," he continues.

Berbena and peasant

The day I met him was one morning when I was interviewing the chef Carlos Pérez de Rozas"Yes, I remember; I bring her purple daykon, which if you cut it in half is like a watermelon; purple daykon, which is for salads," she says, recalling that it rained more in Japan than in Catalonia. This is another difference she's encountered since living in Pals, and to achieve this, she has to use methods to moisten the soil, such as black plastic sheets, on which she plants her vegetables.

This fall, she's testing Japanese sweet potatoes. "I won't sell them yet because I'm doing tests, and I didn't buy the seeds in Japan, but in France." It's lilac, and from what she explains, they should be sweet. We enter the second garden, and there are fruit trees that look like overgrown bonsai. "I don't have any fruit, but I'm testing yuzu and dachi." Both look like small, round green lemons, but they're much more aromatic. She gives them to me and tells me to grate them on the dishes, that the acidic note will increase. "I'm happy because this is the third year I've planted the yuzu, and it seems to be flourishing." It's also organic, chemical-free, like all the vegetables we just saw.

I tell him that the cooks tell me he delivers the freshest vegetables, the day after they've been harvested. And he confirms that it's true. "In Barcelona, I deliver on Tuesdays and Thursdays; in Girona, also on Thursdays, but in the afternoon." And now we enter the third garden, which is the one with the small, differently colored carrots, eaten like candy, and the one with the aromatic herbs. He has dozens and dozens, and he calls out the name of each one. "Right next door are the Albert Grassot rice fields, from the Pals rice." They are friends with Albert, and together they help each other. "Albert gives me the rice husk, which I add as fertilizer to the soil." And now we have found two mini vegetables: tomatoes and cucumbers, which are smaller than the size of a small finger, but much tastier than any I've ever tried before. "To Jordi Vilà, I bring, to Alkimia, and Alkimia del Mar, here in Begur", he says smiling.

Hidenori comments that at home they buy vegetables for their meals. "We buy tomatoes and zucchini from Catalan farmers, who I've noticed have a kind, hard-working heart, like the Japanese." And now he's eating a round pumpkin, which comes in two colors: brown and green. It's also a seasonal vegetable, like ginger, which he grows quite a bit of, and he recommends adding it to the sautéed onion, which is how it has always been cooked in Catalonia.

I ask him about the chefs who trust him. "The first year I didn't have any, zero, but in Pals the Vicus restaurant He ordered turnips and herbs, and then the rest came." I ask him the names of all the restaurants, and he rattles them off by heart, all of a sudden: Berbena, Gresca, Ábaco, Atempo, Ángulo, Cinco Sentidos, Shunka, Suru, Teatro Kitchen, Enc Roca, Normal, Alianza, Magnolias, Bòtic, Casamar, Can Xapes, Ginjoler, Si no fuera.