A Taste of Eastern Hokkaido: From Yatai to Ryokan

A personal journey through Eastern Hokkaido’s food – chirashidon, yatai beer, ryokan feasts, and a bowl of corn that changed everything.

🍱 Chirashidon at Michi no Eki Rausu

The chirashidon at Michi no Eki Sharirausu – fresh, colourful, and unforgettable.

It's my first roadside station meal in Japan, and surprisingly, it was in Eastern Hokkaido, of all places. I’d learned that Japanese michi no eki often hide serious culinary treasures, and this chirashidon proved it. A bowl of rice topped with glistening slices of raw seafood – salmon, scallop, maybe even some local crab – so fresh it seemed to hum. I ate it slowly, savouring each piece, feeling the cool air of Hokkaido mix with the warmth of the bowl, still in awe at its affordability compared to Malaysia that would easily charge you double of the value you'd get in Hokkaido.

It was a reminder that sometimes the best meals aren’t in fancy restaurants. They’re where the locals stop, where the ingredients are pulled straight from the sea that morning.

🍻 Obihiro Yatai: Beer, Corn, and a Whispered Wish

The yatai alley in Obihiro – small, cozy, and full of flavour.

I still recalled the very first evening of my day in Obihiro, where we visited Kitanoyatai before our evening walking tour. I was tired but happy. We’d spent the day learning about local agriculture, and now we were squeezed into a tiny stall called Petit Plaisir. The owner moved with easy confidence, and the tiny space was full of just the members of our group of no more than eight, so the atmosphere was wonderful.

I ordered a bowl of corn, and in a quiet moment, whispered to my friend next to me: “You know what would make this perfect? Melted cheese.”

The owner noticed, and the table then turned my whispers into a lighthearted, wishmaking joke. "That's a genius idea," the owner said, and a minute later, he brought my bowl to the giant cheese wheel near him and shaved a generous melted pile onto my corn. It formed a beautiful layer over the corn so immediately that I forgot to even take a photo, and when I took my first bite, I swear the room went quiet. Sweet, salty, creamy – it was everything I didn’t know I wanted. The beer he poured had a soft foam and no bitterness; I’ve never found that taste anywhere else.

That moment – the cheese, the beer, the laughter – summed up Eastern Hokkaido for me: unexpected, generous, and exactly right.

The fried udon at Petit Plaisir – simple, satisfying, and made with care.

🍇 Tokachi Wine & Naitai Terrace Soft Serve

Tokachi Winery – where the landscape is as rich as the wine.

Tokachi is, undoubtedly, famous for its agriculture, and the winery we visited felt like a celebration of that. The wines were light, fruity, with a distinct sense of place. I’m no connoisseur, but sipping it while looking out over the vineyard, I understood why people travel for this.

Soft serve at Naitai Terrace – creamy and simple, perfect after a long day.

Later, at Naitai Terrace, I discovered that Hokkaido’s dairy is justly famous. The soft serve was impossibly creamy, not too sweet, and I ate it watching the sun begin to set. It was the kind of simple pleasure that makes travel feel like a gift. I later also learned about the famous brand Yotsuba sourcing their ingredients from Obihiro itself, and now you know why I'm a big fan of their milk – I love them so much I bought litres of them the moment I saw them being sold in Bukit Bintang's Don Don Donki!

🏮 Ryokan Dining: From Grand Buffets to Kaiseki

The buffet dinner at New Akan Hotel – each dish a work of art.

The ryokan at Lake Akan served buffet – offering so much that every bit of seafood, greens, tofu, meat feels amazing. I remembered how a girl skillfully deshelled the crabs for us, the delicate slices of sashimi that would melt me, and the soba noodles that I asked for seconds. We giggled, chattered, and enjoyed the feast.

The dinner at Shiretoko Daiichi hotel too was equally amazing, that I was happily skipping around in joy as I moved to retrieve more food; the kaiseki lunch prior our business meeting was art disguised as food, each plate beautifully arranged, yet fills you just nicely with the sashimi melting upon bite, the soup that warms you after a long day of traveling in the cooling weather – pure luxury in disguise.

But the most memorable bite wasn’t part of the formal meal. It was the bowl of soup the next morning, drunk while gazing out at the lake through the window. Simple, warm, and homey. That soup tasted like the whole trip distilled into one bowl.

🌽 Unexpected Bites: Corn, Whale, and a Lesson in Respect

Two tastes from the trip remain tangled in my memory. One was the corn with cheese – pure joy, a gift from a watchful chef. The other was whale meat, offered during a meal in Abashiri. I’d never tried it before, and the texture and smell were foreign to me. Pungent, fishy, strong, and much gameier than any ducks I've ever consumed in my life. But our guide explained that it was served with gratitude, as part of a tradition that honours the sea’s gifts, so I still gave it a try.

I took a bite, not because I enjoyed it, but because it felt right to respect the culture and the life it represented. It was a reminder that food isn’t just fuel; it carries history, belief, culture, and connection.

💌 What I Brought Home