There are no strawberries in it. The name describes what the bowl looks like: the abalone clouds the broth to a milky white, the sea urchin floats in it in gold-coloured lumps, and somebody once decided that this resembled wild strawberries seen through morning mist.

The clouding is the abalone's doing, and it happens on its own; nobody thickens anything. The method is almost nothing at all. Sea urchin and abalone are simmered in water or a light bonito stock, a little soy sauce goes in, and shredded green shiso is scattered over the top. That is the entire recipe, start to finish.

It started on the beaches around Hachinohe and along the Sanriku coast that runs south from there, where fishermen cooked what they had just taken out of the water rather than carrying it anywhere first. Sea urchin and abalone were not luxuries then. They are now, and the dish has moved accordingly, from a working lunch to something served at a wedding.

What stays with you is the naming. Not the taste, not the place, not the technique — somebody looked into a bowl and reported what it reminded them of, and everybody else agreed to use that. It is a strange way to name a food, and it has lasted a long time.