Searching for the Perfect Sea Urchin
From Cádiz to Hokkaido, a journey in search of the world’s finest sea urchin — from the rocky coasts of the Mediterranean to the pure sweetness of Ezo Bafun Uni in Hakodate. Two oceans, one taste of perfection.
Growing up in the Alps, sea urchins were a delicacy I knew nothing about. My only encounters were during summer holidays on the Istrian coast, where one simply learned to avoid stepping on them.
It wasn’t until my mid-twenties, on my first trip to Japan, that I discovered the extraordinary taste of sea urchin — a discovery that has stayed with me ever since. Tasting it for the first time felt like encountering the pure essence of the sea itself — cold, sweet, and infinite. There was something both foreign and familiar about it, almost hypnotic, and from that moment it became quietly addictive — a flavour I would keep searching for again and again.
After visiting nearly fifty three-star restaurants, I’ve come to see sea urchin as one of the few ingredients that connect both worlds.
In southern Europe — in Italy, France, Greece or Spain — sea urchins appear regularly on menus, though not everywhere and not in every season. Yet the European urchin has little in common with its Japanese counterpart. In Europe, the sea urchin tastes of the coast itself: salty, slightly nutty, with a gentle sweetness that recalls rocks, wind, and sea. In Japan, however, uni has an entirely different character. The pale golden Murasaki Uni of summer and the deep orange Bafun Uni of winter — especially the precious Ezo Bafun from Hokkaido — are silky in texture, with a buttery sweetness and deep umami. The European sea urchin tells of the sea; the Japanese speaks of its soul. One is immediate and earthy, the other precise and transcendent — two expressions of the same oceanic truth.
Sea Urchins in Spain
In Spain, sea urchins are available in tins from good delicatessens. Their flavor and texture are unlike fresh ones, yet they form their own category — and the best Galician preserves can be excellent (and expensive, around 40 to 50 € for a small tin).
In winter months, fresh sea urchins can be enjoyed directly at the Boqueria in Barcelona. In Cádiz, they are sold ready to eat by foragers and street vendors around the Mercado Central de Abastos — typically taken to a nearby bar and enjoyed with a glass of white wine.
Sea urchins also appear on the menus of Spain’s three-star temples such as Aponiente or Cocina Hermanos Torres.
Italy – Spaghetti ai Ricci di Mare
Years ago in Rome, at the wonderful fish restaurant Il San Lorenzo, I had an unforgettable plate of Spaghetti ai Ricci di Mare. The dish was pure simplicity — fresh pasta, olive oil, garlic, and raw sea urchin folded in at the end — a perfect harmony of land and sea, rich yet restrained. Few dishes capture the Mediterranean spirit as effortlessly.
Jungsik, New York
I also had outstanding sea urchin during my visit to the three-star restaurant Jungsik in New York. As an additional course, I was offered the Sea Urchin Bibimbap for $75 — a wonderful dish that has stayed in my memory ever since.
The Hokkaido Sea Urchin
Our most recent journey to Hokkaido brought us to Hakodate, a harbor city that feels more Western in its layout and rhythm than most Japanese towns — and a true center for Hokkaido uni.
One of the best places to enjoy it fresh and pure is Uni Murakami, operated by the same family that processes the sea urchins served there. The uni is completely free of additives or preservatives, its texture creamy and its flavor delicately sweet. Sea urchin treated with preservatives can taste metallic or bitter; this one was flawless.
It is usually served over a bowl of warm rice — an unexpectedly perfect combination, the warmth of the rice amplifying the sweetness of the chilled uni. We were there in August, the peak of the season. The sea urchins come from the islands of Rishiri and Rebun, harvested only from June to August. The restaurant price is around €1,100 per kilo — but the taste is, quite literally, priceless.
On the morning of our departure, I returned to the morning market, where at 7 a.m., in a small sushi bar (decorated in Louis Vuitton style), I ordered one last serving of uni. On the package, I noticed the supplier’s name: Uni Murakami.
It was clear to me then — for the best uni, you have to come to Hakodate, and you have to come in summer — the best time to visit Hokkaido in every sense.
