Zunda: A Beacon on the Silk Road (Part 2)
How a Vibrant Green Soybean Paste from Northern Japan Reveals the Essence of Life and Survival
Chapter 1: The Early Modern Origins of “Zunda” in Samurai Cuisine
Multiple colorful theories surround the origin of the word zunda (sweet green soybean paste). One claims it derives from mame-uchi (bean-pounding), read as zu-da. Another suggests that the legendary warlord Date Masamune crushed or split green soybeans with the hilt (tsuka) of his jin-tachi, field sword (Jin-tachi theory). A third credits a humble farmer named Jinta who supposedly presented the dish to his lord (Jinta theory). Plausible as these tales may sound, they are nothing more than folk etymologies born of later romanticism.
To uncover the truth, one need only consult a reliable Japanese dictionary. According to the Kojien:
Zunda: See Jinda (3).
Jinda: (1) Nuka-miso (fermented rice bran paste), sasa-jin, or jinda-miso. (2)
A food mixture made by seasoning “kōji” (fermented malt) and rice bran with salt, used by adding vinegar or sake. (3) Boiled and mashed green soybeans or other fresh podded beans, used as a filling or dressing. Also called “zunda.”
Based on standard dictionary definitions, it is clear that the word zunda originates from jinda. As scholars note — and as reflected in my own lifelong familiarity with the region where I was born and raised — it is entirely logical that jinda naturally evolved into zunda through the distinct dialectal accents of the former Sendai Domain.
Among the samurai of the Sendai Domain was a man named Kitsukawa Fusatsune, who served Date Yoshimura, the fifth lord of Sendai. Fusatsune rose to become the Daidokoro Ōbanyaku — the head supervisor overseeing the castle’s culinary personnel, known as hōchō-samurai (kitchen samurai or kitchen knife samurai).
The kitchen samurai technically belonged to the Ōban-gumi (the domain’s primary combat units), and they faced, not a few times, condescension from frontline warriors trained in swords and firearms. Yet, refusing to yield to such disdain, they held a fierce pride in their craft, knowing their own battle was fought with kitchen knives rather than swords. Many among them were commoners — townspeople and villagers — elevated to samurai status for a single generation.
The true identity of the kitchen samurai extended, on one hand, to masters versed in courtly etiquette and noble cuisine, and on the other, to rustic sages holding an encyclopedic knowledge of seasonal and local ingredients. Thus, they were far more than mere cooks. Their duties went well beyond preparing daily meals. As culinary professionals, they were tasked with organizing grand, formal banquets to entertain visiting dignitaries from other domains or high-ranking officials from the shogunate.
At the top of this specialized workforce was the Daidokoro Ōbanyaku, the head kitchen supervisor. Despite his modest official rank, he bore a critical responsibility. Acting as a poison taster, he guaranteed the safety of the lord’s food while designing a holistic, nourishing diet for the lord and his family. Much like monarchs and rulers throughout history, domain lords relied on food tasters to guard against assassination — even if the act sometimes served as a formality to demonstrate unwavering loyalty.
After retiring from his post, Kitsukawa Fusatsune codified his culinary expertise into a recipe book of the Date clan titled “Ryōrishū” (Collection of Recipes). Among its 282 meticulously cataloged ingredients and preparation methods is an entry titled Nasu Jinta (Eggplant with Jinda):
“Peel small eggplants and simmer them in a light soy-infused “dashi” broth with a splash of sake. Once cooked thoroughly, serve them in a bowl. Take green soybean “jinta”, dilute it to a smooth consistency using the remaining broth from the eggplant, and pour it over the top. A little sugar may be added directly to the “jinta”, or it can be mixed into the broth instead. Grated ginger or hot mustard may be added according to taste.”
What is particularly noteworthy here is that by this period, jinta was already completed as a refined samurai dish — one that carefully balanced sweetness from sugar (then exclusive to the upper class) with the accents of ginger or mustard. Furthermore, the manual details an entry for Jinta-ae (Jinta-Dressed Dish):
“Grind green soybeans finely and add a small amount of sugar. Blanch tofu, squeeze out the water thoroughly, and mix it into the jinta. Use this mixture to dress various ingredients. Depending on the season, shredded white radish (daikon), brassica shoots (kukutachi), or any other seasonal vegetables work well.”
It goes without saying that jinta is jinda, and that it serves as the true etymological origin of zunda. These records written by Kitsukawa Fusatsune have long been cited by scholars as primary evidence proving the historical existence of zunda in early modern samurai cuisine. And yet, lamentably, this evidence has not been enough to completely dispel the popular folk etymologies.
Get Muku Watanabe’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
A colorful tale about a famous warlord is simply too convenient for tourism posters. Even national agricultural authorities could not resist the temptation of popular appeal, publishing the legend on their official website — albeit with a disclaimer stating it is “uncertain.” The true history, however, does not lie within such manufactured legends.
In the Kyōhō era (1716–1736), a castle kitchen supervisor painstakingly recorded authentic recipes for his descendants. It is within those pages that genuine history quietly lives on.
While the story of Date Masamune and his field sword is nothing more than a later invention, the relationship between Masamune and soybeans — the primary ingredient of zunda — is a historical reality that cannot be ignored. In the next chapter, I will attempt to uncover the deep, documented connection between Date Masamune and the soybean — a humble crop in the beginning, but one that nursed his domain to be called the soy kingdom.
(To be continued in Chapter 2)
Haiku
Zunda beans
grinding, wiggling, jiggling —
autumn deepens
— Composed by the Author
Seasonal Phrase: Autumn deepens
Original Japanese:
(kyoro kyoro to nigeru zunda wo tsubushi / aki)









