A-Bu-Cha!

ABUCHA.

That's the singular refrain on everybody's lips when the topic of food in Niseko comes up. Doesn't matter whom you ask - locals, expat ski instructors, even seemingly clueless tourists.

It's easy to say and easy to remember.

"Go-To-A-Bu-Cha."

"Find-A-Bu-Cha."

"Drink-Plum-Wine-At-A-Bu-Cha."

"Order-Hot-Pot-In-A-Bu-Cha."

"Don't-Miss-A-Bu-Cha."

It's an incantation. A magic spell. It's as though Abucha's secret ingredients have been sprinkled by fairies on Niseko's powdery snow, so that everyone who sets foot on it gets brainwashed immediately.

Abucha First

"A-Bu-Cha..." the night receptionist for the Ezo villas chanted, by way of greeting. She was telling us to go. Now. For a drink, for a bite, for whatever. She said it hypnotically.

So of course we had to go. We didn't want to nix our entire holiday by being the stupid tourists who didn't do what had to be done.

We hurriedly dropped our luggage off at the villa, then looked for Abucha First - home to a legendary plum wine. The place is loud and filled with a manic energy. Staff zip around so quickly, the cooks and servers are nothing but a blur. 

It is tight, with patrons seated shoulder-to-shoulder. Snow from the next guy's collar was melting onto my camera. He was complaining loudly, in Cantonese, about his mother-in-law.

Pity I can't say what I thought about the plum wine. I drank it too quickly. I was so thirsty, I had to be stopped from "drinking" the snow off the ground just 30 seconds ago. After over 24 hours of travel, I bet you'd be dehydrated, too. 

We also ordered a plate of chicken wings. Our eyes popped when they arrived. They must have come from obese chickens. I immediately succumbed to heart-tugging hallucinations when the cholesterol entered my blood stream. 

Mad props to Abucha for knowing the most pleasurable ways to help guests fend off the bitter cold.

Abucha Second

"A-Bu-Cha..." chanted Yuki with a glazed look in her eyes when I asked her to recommend a restaurant for a nice dinner.

"Cool! Abucha it is for dinner tonight, then!" I chirped.

As it happened, Allen had already made a booking for us at Abucha upon the insistence of another local. So it was a no-brainer, really.

Abucha Second is Abucha First's bigger and more badass sibling. Every single member of the staff is so cool, they put Niseko's sub-zero temperatures to shame. 

Our server was young, lippy and faultlessly efficient. She had on the cutest pink Dr. Seuss socks and the brightest, radiactive-green Crocs I have ever seen. Her needle-straight blonde hair fell all the way down to her waist. I imagined that she had special powers. How else could she have started the fire on our hotpot by simply snapping her fingers?? And when the soup was just hot enough to cook all the ingredients through, she snapped her fingers again and ::poof!:: the fire went out! Wouldn't wanna get on her bad side; she was my bestie all throughout dinner.

There are over 400 drinks in Abucha Second's bar menu. 

I can only describe the restaurant's design as "Japanese contemporary rustic." Abucha Second is a see-and-bee-seen type of venue that successfully engages the nuanced dialectic between warm and welcoming versus intimidating and snobbish. It's a style see-saw that Abucha tips confidently in its favour by punching up the atmosphere with enough fun elements (such as DIY scallops-on-the-shell) that tip the balance in its favour. It's a style cred that will survive in any big city in the world. In fact, we heard practically every language imaginable - including Swahili - whilst we were having dinner. I spoke a few sentences in Filipino just to represent, coz there's a puzzling absence of my brown brethren in Niseko. I had always assumed that Filipinos were everywhere??

Abucha Second is where the beautiful people come to eat, and they gladly pay eye-watering prices to match.    

"Disney Japan," was Chris' succinct summary of Abucha Second - a sleek and sensuously engineered ("Imagineered?") experience.

Abucha Bakery & Cafe

"A-Bu-Cha..." the lady selling lift passes at the Mountain Centre intoned when I asked where I may grab a quick and easy breakfast in Niseko.

Of course. 

How come I didn't already know that??

I set out to explore the village with my enormous camera bag, like every self-respecting Asian tourist, as though my five layers of clothing weren't enough to completely cripple my mobility. I just had to suck it up. I was on a mission to complete the Abucha trifecta before I left Niseko. Failure wasn't an option.

Abucha Bakery & Cafe is annexed to Abucha First. It is my favourite of the three. The heady aroma of bread and coffee and butter and grease and BACON all but made me weep with hunger and delight and excitement and ecstasy. It hit all my olfactory G-spots bang-on, all at the same time. I hadn't realized until then how truly... sexual the sense of smell is. It made me from my scalp all the way down to my toes, even through all my layers of clothing.

I must confess to sinful thoughts as soon as I laid eyes on the breads. They looked pornographic in the same way that a slick and oiled Playgirl centrefold does. I wanted to grab and pinch and slobber and bite and worship everything. It was disgusting; I was having foreplay with pastries.

The bread baskets have labels that indicate the next time a fresh batch is served. You can then decide whether or not you can stave off your horniness, sorry, hunger, long enough to enjoy the stuff that's fresh from the oven. 'Coz there's no point eating stale leftovers when a bit more patience rewards you with the good stuff, right?          

I had chicken-and-egg in a spicy sauce, deliciously sandwiched between slices of firm, fleshy, fragrant bread.   

Coffee was served in a rough clay cup that elevated the earthy sensuality of the hot, dark elixir into some kind of heaven.

I had multiple food orgasms on the spot and I had nothing to wipe it with except... my merino wool skull cap. Except it's not really mine; it's Chris'. I'm sure he'll understand.  

Thank you, God.

All together, now:

A-BU-CHA.