Winter catch

Every winter, Japan's most prized bluefin arrive from the cold waters of the north. For a few weeks, the world's most serious sushi travelers follow them south.

There are expensive meals, and then there are meals that require you to get on a plane.

Bluefin tuna belongs to the second category.

Every winter, as the waters around northern Japan grow colder, Pacific bluefin tuna become particularly prized for the fat they have accumulated. In the fishing town of Ōma, at the northern tip of Honshu, fishermen have pursued these enormous fish for generations in the rough waters of the Tsugaru Strait. The fish are so prized that Ōma Tuna has its own regional trademark, and every qualifying fish receives an identifying seal. Japan's tourism authority calls them the "black diamonds of the sea."

For the traveler, there is a very specific date worth knowing.

January 5.

That is when Tokyo's Toyosu Market holds its traditional first tuna auction of the year.

In 2026, the event produced the kind of number that makes the entire ritual sound almost fictional: a 243-kilogram Pacific bluefin from Ōma sold for ¥510.3 million, roughly $3.2 million. It was the most expensive tuna ever sold at the New Year auction and more than 50 percent above the previous record of ¥333.6 million, set in 2019.

At approximately ¥2.1 million per kilogram, the fish was worth more by weight than many luxury cars, watches and pieces of jewelry.

And yet the buyer did not put it in a vault.

Kiyomura, the company behind the Sushi Zanmai chain, bought the fish and distributed it through its restaurants. The company said its intention was to allow customers to eat the record-breaking tuna at ordinary menu prices; Nippon.com estimated that, based on the typical weight of a sushi topping, the raw purchase cost represented roughly ¥20,000 to ¥30,000 per piece.

That is what makes the auction so fascinating.

The ¥510 million fish was not really a ¥510 million meal.

The New Year's auction is part culinary tradition, part business theater, part good-luck ritual and part global publicity event. The first tuna of the year carries symbolic importance, and the extraordinary prices attached to it should not be confused with the ordinary wholesale value of bluefin.

But that doesn't make the fish less remarkable.

It makes the story more interesting.

Because behind the spectacle is an actual seasonal migration, an actual fishing community and a fish whose quality is closely connected to the conditions of the northern sea.

Ōma's tuna season runs from August through January, with the largest fish generally arriving in the colder fall and winter months, when their fat stores are at their highest. The Japanese National Tourism Organization specifically identifies autumn and winter as the period when Ōma Tuna is at its best.

So when should you go?

That depends on what you want to see.

If the goal is to witness the fishermen pursuing the fish themselves, late summer into early autumn is actually the more adventurous choice. Japan's tourism authority recommends visiting Ōma between August and mid-October, when visitors can join experienced fishermen on pole-fishing excursions.

But if the goal is to experience the mythology of bluefin at its absolute peak, late December through early January is the trip.

You fly into Tokyo.

You wake before dawn.

And you go to Toyosu.

The auction begins in the early morning, long before most of Tokyo has started its day. In 2026, the first auction began around 5 a.m. on January 5.

The experience is almost absurdly Japanese in its precision.

Rows of enormous frozen tuna.

Buyers examining the fish.

Auctioneers moving rapidly through the room.

The distinctive cuts of the tail being inspected for color, texture and fat.

Then the bidding begins.

And somewhere in that room is the fish that will become the year's symbolic first tuna.

You don't need to spend $3.2 million to participate in the experience.

In fact, you shouldn't.

The real luxury is understanding what you're looking at.

The bluefin in the auction is the culmination of a much larger story. These fish travel thousands of miles through the Pacific. They are powerful predators capable of extraordinary speed. The waters around Ōma are influenced by several currents, creating feeding grounds rich in squid, sardines and other prey. The fish that arrive there have spent months building the fat that makes their flesh so prized by sushi chefs.

And the fishermen aren't harvesting them with enormous industrial nets.

Traditional Ōma fishing relies heavily on pole-and-line and longline methods, with fishermen battling individual fish in the open water. The technique is demanding and has been practiced in the region for more than a century.

That relationship between fish, fisherman and place is part of what makes Ōma different.

There is also a conservation story beneath the luxury.

Pacific bluefin tuna were once in serious trouble after decades of intense fishing pressure. The stock has since improved substantially, and NOAA notes that Pacific bluefin is no longer considered overfished or experiencing overfishing, allowing the United States to receive a significantly larger catch allocation for 2025–26.

The recovery doesn't mean the fish has become commonplace.

Quite the opposite.

The most coveted specimens remain extraordinarily valuable because the market isn't simply buying tuna. It is buying size, fat, provenance, timing and reputation.

That is why the Ōma name matters.

It is why a particular fish can command the attention of some of the world's most serious sushi buyers.

And it is why a traveler can build an entire winter journey around something that, at first glance, seems almost ridiculous:

a fish.

But this is where Japan repeatedly defeats the expectations of outsiders.

The country has an extraordinary ability to turn seasonality into culture.

The first blossoms of spring.

The first snowfall.

The first matsutake mushrooms.

The first strawberries.

The first tuna of the year.

The object itself may be temporary.

The ritual surrounding it is not.

For someone planning a winter trip, the appeal is therefore larger than Toyosu.

Spend several days in Tokyo around the auction. Eat the tuna in places where the chef can explain exactly what you're tasting. Then head north.

Ōma sits at the tip of the Shimokita Peninsula, facing the Tsugaru Strait and, across the water, Hokkaido. It is a very different Japan from the neon Tokyo most visitors imagine: remote, windswept and deeply connected to the sea.

And winter gives the journey another dimension.

Japan in January is cold, but that is precisely the point. Snow, hot springs and winter cuisine become part of the experience. Japan's tourism authority describes winter as a season of hot springs, snow and seasonal food, while warning that the New Year's period is one of the country's busiest and most expensive travel windows.

The timing requires planning.

New Year's in Japan is not Christmas in New York. The holiday period can mean higher hotel prices, crowded transportation and businesses closing around the New Year. The official holiday period generally runs from December 29 through January 3.

Which suggests a better strategy.

Arrive just after New Year's.

Spend January 4 in Tokyo.

Sleep early.

Wake before dawn on January 5.

Watch the auction.

Have breakfast somewhere extraordinary.

Then spend the following days eating your way through Tokyo before heading north into the winter landscape.

It is not a trip built around luxury hotels or Michelin stars, although there are plenty of both.

It is built around timing.

For a few months, the tuna are in the north.

For a few weeks, they are at their richest.

For one morning, one fish will become the most expensive tuna in the world.

And then the moment disappears until next year.

That may be the ultimate luxury of seasonal travel.

Not having access to something whenever you want it.

Having the freedom to be there when it happens.