Donko is the local name along the Sanriku coast for a small cod relative, ezoisoainame. In winter the flesh firms up and the liver fattens, and the fish becomes worth the trouble. The meat itself is mild white flesh with no strong character, which is not a criticism here. It is the liver that carries the dish.

Both go into the pot. Vegetables are simmered first, then the cut fish and the liver are lowered in gently and cooked without agitation, tofu is added, miso goes in at the end, and scallion is scattered over the top. Nothing is browned or seared. The liver dissolves into the broth and thickens it, and the whole bowl turns rich in a way the fish alone would never manage.

It was fed to women recovering from childbirth, on the understanding that it rebuilt strength. That is one direction the bowl faces, inward, toward a specific body in a specific house.

The other direction is outward. On the twentieth day of the tenth lunar month, at the Ebisu festival, a donko soup made with the fish whole, head and tail intact, was set before the shrine and a good catch was asked for. In Kesen the practice continues. The same soup, two audiences.