A few months after the passing of the chef, Kyoaji closed permanently. My only opportunity to revisit Kyoaji is through the books written by Nishi Kenichiro. Below are some of the things I learned from those books.

Nishi-san’s father didn’t want to make a book about his cooking. He thought that if he teaches it, the people will not study on their own. There was an atmosphere that he did not even want to teach Nishi-san. It was learning by looking, there was no teaching. Or, maybe, special things need to be taught only to one person.

Nishi-san bought so many cooking books that he couldn’t keep all of them at his house. Nishi-san writes: When I get stuck at cooking, I will be frustrated. I will try to read some books, I will get a new idea, and I will be able to calm down then.

Nishi-san writes: My honest thought is that cooking is a lifetime study. There is no goal, no end. A chef has to study for his entire life. There is not one answer. We can find the answer when we die, is something my father often said.

Describing one of his books, Nishi-san writes: Making the book about boiled food is very difficult. I cannot explain in a word “the taste is like this”. I was often told by my father “You are stupid. Taste is heart. It is not easy to teach people the taste.”

Looking at the book, only the shape can be imitated perfectly. The personality of the food is not easy to imitate. At the beginning, it is acceptable to imitate. But look at the book and make an effort to keep studying.  There are various artists whose early works are similar to their teacher’s at the beginning. But, it becomes the foundation and they try to do their own thing and become creative. I wish cooking is the same.

I am most relaxed when I am at the restaurant. I am not relaxed when I am outside the restaurant. I didn’t close because of illness since the restaurant opened. Sickness or illness is healed while I am working. There is a Japanese proverb that says “Stupid people don’t get a cold”.

In my restaurant, there are other chefs who have been there over 10 years, so even if I am not at the restaurant, there will be no mistakes. I know they are doing well, but I am worried if I am not there. I want to greet each customer, and I will not serve something unless I try it once.

I was lucky for everything. When I was about 30 years old, I came from Kyoto to Tokyo and I opened the restaurant with my wife from Tokyo. Her parents had a store and were willing to lend it to me. I received from someone of the Urasenke tea school the name “Kyoaji”. This name is valuable property. I have to serve tasty food which lives up to the name. I worked hard to make the restaurant wonderful so that it didn’t spoil the name.

The reason why I could work in Tokyo, where I didn’t know anyone, is because I was helped by many people. My father was a master chef, my wife’s parents lent me the store, and I was blessed with a good spouse. I was told by many customers “You are a lucky person”, but I really do think so.
Every day, I repeat normal things patiently and properly.

Chefs must have a competitive spirit. When I was a young chef, I thought “I will not be defeated by the other chefs”.

I want to study to make the restaurant better, so that the customers enjoy it more. Recently, I feel more and more that cooking is limitless, endless, and very deep. No matter how I try to master cooking, I cannot. Because of this, I like this job.

It was surprising to me that some Japanese people do not know a lot about umami. There are sometimes also confusing accounts of umami. For example, I have always been puzzled by the explanation given in Jiro Dreams of Sushi by Yoshikazu, Jiro’s son. Yoshikazu explains that umami is like the feeling of “Ahhhh!” when drinking a cold beer or taking a warm bath. I am not sure if this is a profound realization or an oversimplification.

In my experience, you are most likely to understand umami if you taste a clear soup at a high-end kaiseki restaurant. Armed with that pure experience of umami, you will then, over time and with experience, be able to recognize it in other foods, where it is more subtle. For example, umami or the savory flavor can be found in varying degrees in dried mushrooms, tomatoes, cheese and dry-cured ham. In that regard, it is not unique to Japanese food. You can even taste umami in some whisky (for example, Mortlach).

I am reproducing below an extract from the Japanese Culinary Academy’s book Flavor and Seasonings: Dashi, Umami and Fermented Foods (ISBN 978-4-908325-04-5). There is a lot more to know about umami, including the synergies between inosinic acid (meat and fish) and guanylic acid (dried mushrooms), which when present with glutamic acid, can greatly increase the umami taste experience:

“The level of umami flavor expressed in various kinds of foods is not something that can be indicated on a label; it depends on the experience and alchemy of the cook. Judging the amount of sweetness, sourness, saltiness, and bitterness in ingredients is relatively easy for most people, but to evaluate umami, it is very important to train oneself by experiencing both flavor on the tongue and something called mouthfeel.

Umami is a taste that lingers longer on the palate than sweetness or sourness and that spreads over the entire tongue. After thoroughly chewing different varieties of tomatoes, one will find that with some tomatoes the taste sensation seems to cover the entire tongue and linger as an aftertaste, even after swallowing. Other tomatoes taste distinctly sweet or tart, but after the sensation of those tastes is gone there is no lingering aftertaste. The tongue-coating sensation, which lingers as an aftertaste, is umami.”

I recommend this book for those who want to learn more about Japanese food. For example, the book discusses the different types of kombu and their use, between Rishiri kombu (refined and clear dashi, favored in Kyoto), Makombu (favored in Osaka, makes a dashi with a mild sweetness), Rausu kombo (for kobujime), or Hidaka kombu (used when kombu is an element of a dish, such as kobumaki).

Tokyo has countless art museums, many of which are not well known or easy to find from an online search. This article is for those who are interested in going beyond the usual suspects, such as the Nezu Museum, Suntory Museum or the museums in Ueno.
 
1. Mitsui Memorial Museum
This museum always presents high quality pieces of Japanese art. Like the Nezu museum, this is a museum of the highest quality. Some of the exhibitions may be around less familiar themes, for example noh masks, and can be an interesting learning opportunity.
 
2. Idemitsu Museum of Arts
This museum is similar to the Mitsui Memorial.  
 
3. Yamatane Museum of Art
This beautiful museum presents modern nihonga Japanese art of the highest quality. I do not go to Tokyo without visiting these first three museums.
 
4. Toguri Museum of Art
For those interested in ceramics, the Toguri museum is a lesser-known, great museum with interesting exhibitions of Japanese ceramics.
 
5. Mitsuo Aida Museum
This museum near Tokyo station is dedicated to one famous Japanese calligraphy artist.
 
6. Panasonic Shiodome Museum of Art
I have only been to this museum once, but the exhibition dedicated to Kawai Kanjiro I saw was remarkable.
 
7. Kodansha Noma Memorial Museum
This is a wonderful museum of Modern Japanese art. Unfortunately, the museum is currently closed for renovation.
 
8. Century Museum
This is a small museum dedicated to calligraphy and Buddhist sculpture where you are likely to be the only visitor. I suggest that you look out for these quality, off the beaten path museums in Japan.
 
There are so many more exciting museums in Tokyo that you should visit, including Hatakeyama Memorial Museum of Fine Art, Gotoh Museum, Eisei Bunko Museum, Ota Memorial Museum of Art, municipal museums, as well as many more that I have not yet discovered.

Not unlike Japanese restaurants, Tokyo does not have a monopoly on quality museums in Japan. For example, in Hakone alone, there are brilliant museums that can rival Japanese collections anywhere else in the world. I hope that this list will provide a good introduction for those interested in fine Japanese art, ceramics and calligraphy.

When I first saw this nihonga painting at the Kodansha Noma Memorial Museum (now closed for renovations), I was fascinated. To me, it said everything about life in Japan. It is difficult to understand the expression of the woman, who is relaxing in this beautiful space.

In this period of time where travel to Japan is no longer possible, due to the global pandemic, it has become necessary to search for other ways to travel. Reading would be one such way, allowing us to access other worlds. However, reading is, ultimately, only something for the mind. In contrast, food engages several senses, in addition to the mind.

Everyone probably knows of scotch whisky and may have an image of successful people drinking a dark coloured Macallan. They say that when the student is ready, the teacher will appear. For me, scotch whisky has been the perfect way to travel without leaving home. The flavors, the diversity of smells and taste, but also the journey of discovering and learning about it. I am only at the start of this journey, and therefore all I can recommend at this time is to learn from Ralfy on Youtube.

After about one year of serious exploration, I discovered an amazing whisky. The following is a description of it by Ralfy, which I transcribed from his video. I hope he will not mind. I took out the information identifying this whisky because it is not so much about what whisky to buy, but the adventure that whisky can be. I cannot say it better than him.

"Smell: No peat. As soon as you nose this, you realize it’s something pretty intense, it’s like concentrated single malt. And some barrels will do this, it depends on the luck of the draw, the provenance of the cask. When you put new-make spirit into one cask, over time it sort of fades, it becomes thinner. Whereas, other whiskies, you can put them into the cask, and over time they just seem to get more concentrated and richer and more intense, and in fact, it can cause flavor confusion, some of these malts, because there is just so much going on. Not just in terms of flavor, but also in terms of sensations, the sweet, salt, sour, bitter and savoury. These can become very congested and even confusing. And what you need is just patience. Time, give them time, that’s what makes the real difference, and allow the experience of the malt to express itself it its own good measure, over time.
 
Nose: Very resinous, very rich, beautiful soft cask notes, mildest of tannins. Super rich barley sugar, ultra rich barley sugar. Very intense. Nothing is off key, everything is beautifully aligned within the nose. As soon as you smell this, if you’ve got any experience with single malt whisky, you will know that you’re smelling something very singular, rather unique, and frankly amazing.
 
Taste: [makes a face] Very intense. It’s not sharp, it’s not particularly nippy, it’s just got this kind of richness, it’s so rich, it’s uncomfortably rich. That’s what it is. Initially, you’re thinking it’s too citrus, too salty, bit rough, but it’s not. Adding 2 teaspoons of water (10 ml). After all these years, it’s still at a high strenght which suggests that this spirit went into the cask at a higher strength than normal. I would suggest it went into the cask at over 70% alcohol. Many distillers will cut down the alcohol with water to make the cask engagement a bit more textured, a bit more methodical, a bit more soft. But this went into the cask straight off the still, and it shows. And the way it shows is just the sheer intensity is showcased here. It’s very intense. It needs the water, lots of water. You’ll add water, you’ll smell it, taste it, and then you will add some more, just to get access to the flavor.
 
Nose: So much more expressive. The complexity, even more so. Spicy, herbal, floral, slightly savoury, very very busy.

Taste: The arrival is so slow, so prolonged. Now the development is arriving. Beautifully integrated with the cask, sultana, barley sugar, Manuka honey, sweet and sour dried fruits, a savoury mint (an odd peculiar savoury mint), winter green, a little mild spearmint. It’s slightly salty, not saline, not brine, actual table salt.
 
Adding another spoonful of water. It will not drown, I can promise you that. When I bought it, [it was 1/10th of the price it is now]. But having said that, it’s a seriously impressive single malt by any standards. Bigger, more matured, than many malts twice its age. For its age, this has got an awful lot to say for itself. The cask influence is so complex, remarkably complex. And I think it’s the style of lowland single malt that has provided a perfect foil for the cask influence. Top quality cask, aromatic wooden notes, soft sublime herbal sappy notes, gentle tea-like tannins. It’s not what’s come from the cask that is noticeable so much as the quality of what has come from the cask. It really has translated so well. The busyness, the balance, the poise, the complexity of this unpeated whisky is nothing short of remarkable.
 
It’s a stunning single malt, it’s a showcase for its generation. I like the lowland style of matured single malts, they really work for me and my palate. Lowland whiskies have subtle, refined finishes. They are a real fascination for me. The problem is the caliber of bottling is often not that great, and no region is more badly affected by this than lowland whiskies.
 
It’s a remarkable whisky, and it know it is because I have so much experience with whiskies over the years now, so I know what I’m looking at, I know what I’m smelling, I know what I’m tasting, and for many reasons I know why a whisky is the way it is. But the truly special ones, the spectacular ones, the outstanding, unforgettable single malts, they have something in common: you never fully understand them. You know there’s more there than you can smell and you can taste. You know that there is simply something greater than you are able to comprehend, but you know it’s there. You don’t know what it is. And there is no point struggling to understand it or try to get to know it. Doesn’t work that way. You just have to roll with the experience, which is what I have been doing.
 
Initially, I didn’t like this whisky. Initially, it was just too confusing for my palate, because I was still learning a lot then. But, I suppose instinctively, I just poured a glass, put the water in, covered it up, came back to it an hour later, had some Glenfiddich, had some Springbank, came back to it, tried it again, and it was through tasting other whiskies around it (from lowlands?) that I gradually got more and more access into this, to understand what it was and how it worked. So I learned so much about whisky from this bottle, because it was so unusual, it was so different. I could just tell it was quality, but I had a hard time accessing it. It was a real challenge, it was an obstacle to be overcome, it was a mission, it was a real passion project of a whisky that I couldn’t rush and I couldn’t dismiss. The bottle lasted me three years once I opened it. I never rushed it. And every time I poured another glass, I was enjoying it more and more.
 
It’s so easy for me to just sit here with this bottle and just chat about it, about how fantastic it is. And I hope that people will go to auction and buy a bottle and, its not just as an investment portfolio accessory, but to buy it for what it was originally bottled as, a stunningly good single malt whisky, well worth the time and effort. And also, an education. It’s whiskies like these that set the standard, that help us calibrate our measuring tape of what is good whisky and what is bad whisky.
 
Its whiskies like this – and you will encounter a whisky that you find so good, so memorable, so instinctively special that it registers in your subconscious, you remember the day you opened the bottle, you remember who you poured that dram with, you remember where you were and what you were doing, and the reason you remember is because of the intrinsic quality of the smell and of the taste. It’s very special and it really enhances our journey. Maltmates, I command this whisky to you. If you find it, cherish it. I found it, and I certainly cherish it. It’s all part of the journey."

HEART Tokushima is an animal shelter in Tokushima that houses dogs, as well as cats. It was started 14 years ago by a Canadian woman, Susan Mercer, who first came to Japan to teach English. In 14 years, HEART has rescued and placed with a family more than 2,000 animals.

I went to the shelter to volunteer for two days. Usually, volunteers stay for longer that this. As a volunteer, the main task is simply to walk the dogs.

It is easy to see that Susan, and her husband, are sincere in their approach. From nothing, they have built a no-kill shelter that has placed thousands of animals with a family. The shelter does not look impressive. They have very little money and run the shelter on a shoestring budget. Although most of their dogs come from the Tokushima area, my understanding is that they get almost no support from the local community and instead rely on donors from elsewhere in Japan and overseas.

I had the chance to visit the local governmental facility for animal control. It was painful to see that they have extremely good facilities, dozens of staff and a large budget. In effect, they capture animals in Tokushima, keep them temporarily until they run out of space, at what point they will gas the animals with CO2 to make new space in their automated facilities. In comparison, Susan has perhaps 2% of their budget, no full time staff, and has been able to do so much.

HEART Tokushima would be a great place to volunteer, to discovery the countryside of Japan, play with dogs and cats, reconnect with a simple life, and get inspired by Susan’s sincerity and dedication, working 7 days a week on selflessly saving animals and educating the people of Japan regarding animal welfare and best practices.

Reservations: If you would like to adopt an animal or volunteer at the shelter to walk dogs, please contact the shelter by email. They have an apartment that they can provide to long term volunteers free of charge and Susan’s husband will transport you to and from the shelter. This is their website. You can also follow HEART on Facebook and Instagram.

If this blog has provided you with any value, I would encourage you to make a donation to HEART. Any amount will make a difference. The money will be spent in the most cost-effective way to save animals and make a change for the better in Japan.

On July 26, 2019, Nishi Kenichiro (西健一郎) passed away in his early eighties. I want to send my condolences to his family, and he will be dearly missed by his friends, customers, and staff.

Usually, old monks will leave Zen words before they die. In Zen Buddhism, they say the following:

“There are three stages in one’s understanding of the dharma: the first stage, seeing mountain as mountain and water as water; the second stage, seeing mountain not as mountain and water not as water; and the third stage, seeing mountain still as mountain and water still as water.”

Maybe it is difficult to believe, but Kyoaji is just a restaurant. It is a restaurant where about 10 people work to make food for about 10 customers.

The food was extraordinary. Right from the first soup, made with sake lees, a sweet taste and daikon, konnyaku and aji. A baby-sized nabe pot resting on charcoal, followed by potato stems (the cheapest and tasteless ingredient, they said) with incredible texture. Then, crab on an oribe-yaki plate. Then, a chawanmushi with shirako hidden inside, the two textures being almost the same yet the taste being different, a wonderful dish. Tempura of bitter vegetables and shirauo. Incredible fugu and tai (not kojubime) sashimi. And then, oh god, the nimono with crab-cake and dashi. The dashi of my dreams. Although I understand now that each chef’s dashi is different, I have to say that this one is the one. This dish remains the best food memory of my life. I hope so, but I don't think my amazement of tasting something to simple and common but made so powerful and extraordinary can ever be surpassed.

Grilled moroko fish, simmered takenoko (what a smell and sophisticated taste) with wakame and seasonal octopus (with a head that looks like rice). Then, they asked me if I wanted an extra dish. Of course. Duck meat in potato cake and dashi. Finally, sake belly and soft rice. They said they have three desserts, I got two of them, my favorite being the warabi-mochi.

I would say the food has a lot of taste, it is not meditative like Matsukawa, the kitchen has a lot more energy (many chefs are constantly cooking). Mizai, Matsukawa and Kyoaji really have nothing to do with each other, comparing them makes no sense. Each one is unique, comes from someone totally different, offers something that is uniquely Japanese. But if you learn more about Japan, you may discover that there is no such thing as one Japan. Japan has many identities. They are all different but they all represent the best of Japan.

Makiko-san, his eldest daughter who has been working at the restaurant for about 7 years, but who has lived abroad and travelled a lot, was happy to explain to me the dishes and answer my questions. Nevertheless, because I could not speak Japanese with the chef unlike the other guests, I felt that he must be uncomfortable to make eye contact with me. I felt sad that he never looked at me the whole meal, which surprised me. I thought, perhaps he was disappointed that he invited me.

After the meal, Makiko asked me if I have any plans after, and invited me to have tea in their private dining room for half an hour to chat with her and the chef. The chef gave me his book from 2009, called “12 Months at Kyoaji” (「京味」の十二か月, ISBN 9784163718903). I could not believe that they would do this for me, a regular person that they do not know.

I asked the chef if it bothers him when people take pictures. He said that it bothers him when people take pictures from the wrong perspective or post them on their blog, because it distorts the experience he wants to create. He doesn’t mind if they people take pictures for them to remember.

I asked him if he thinks about new recipes. He said that he thinks about it every day, but that it is not because something is new that it is good. Japanese cuisine has to focus on the seasons and the ingredients of each season and how they change throughout the season.

I asked him if he ever gets bored making the same food and he said that he doesn’t, because the people (for whom he makes the food) change and because the ingredients change (even within a season).

He said that anyone can buy expensive ingredients, but that the role of a chef is to make something extraordinary out of ordinary ingredients, like potato stems, taro, salmon.

During the meal, Makiko told me: “you know a lot about Japanese food”, and I said: “No, no, I really don’t”. She said “I think you do.” Later, the chef said that sometimes, it bothers him when people think they understand everything about Japanese food.

I asked Makiko what her father was like at home, she said that he never complained about what her mom cooked, even if it wasn’t good. She said that he never bothers anyone and he never complained about anything.

Makiko told me that they don’t like the French restaurant style of explanation where they explain exactly everything, where each ingredient comes from, because clearly the customer will not be going out and buying it or cooking it at home.

I asked him if sometimes he feels tired and he doesn’t feel like going to the restaurant. He said that as long as customers are coming, he wants to be there and supervise everything. He said the reason why he is always at the restaurant is that he wants to make sure he provides the experience he wants to provide. He is 81. If I understood correctly, he said that when he dies, the restaurant will close. When I left, he asked when I would come back. I said, I think I can come back in one year. He said, I will die soon, please do not wait too long. I since had the chance to go a second time, without knowing it would be the last.

I reproduce a translation of the recipe from his book about meimo, one of his classic dish:

"Meimo is the white and long stem of taro potatoes which grows without exposing to direct sunlight. Peel the Meimo’s skin and cut them short, add vinegar and boil them to get rid of harshness. We use small dried sardines (which head and the intestines were taken away) to make Happo Dashi. Season the Meimo with the Dashi, sugar, salt, and light soy sauce. Lastly, add kudzu [arrowroot] powder to thicken the sauce and this part is what makes the Nimono Yoshino-style. To keep it crispy and fresh, it is important not to boil the Meimo too long."

When I tried his dashi, I just could not believe it. I was totally overcome by the depth and perfection. I immediately asked them what their secret is, because I just could not believe it could be like this. Of course, there is no secret they said. I really felt like there must be one. Now, I realize that Nishi-san had already told me his secret: The way to make outstanding food which has depth is to spend time and effort.

Inside his book, he wrote for me: 「食する幸せ  料理する幸せ 」 (“The happiness of eating, the happiness of cooking”)
 
Reservations: I had decided that I would not write about Kyoaji until the chef passed away because I know that he would not want me to write about what an amazing person he was. Maybe Nishi-san was the type of person who does good deeds in private. But I want to share how I got a reservation at Kyoaji, despite being one of the most exclusive invitation-only restaurant. I had reached out to the restaurant expressing my interest in his food and that I would be in Japan during a certain period. One day, I receive an email in perfect English inviting me to their restaurant and giving me a large choice of dates. I could not believe how welcoming they were. A genuine ambassador for Japan, he invited someone he did know anything about with no references to dine at his restaurant alongside his precious guests. Not only a master and philosopher of Japanese cooking, Nishi-san was an extraordinary person. I will forever be indebted and grateful to have seen first hand what a person of extraordinary character, thoughtfulness, commitment and generosity looks like. Thank you Nishi-san.

Takaaki Sugita, like the other highest ranked chefs in Japan, is an overnight success that was decades in the making. Sugita-san started to work at a sushi restaurant in or around the time he was in high school. He chose to join Miyakozushi, in Tokyo, which was not the most famous restaurant he could have joined. He thought this their sushi was “fatally delicious”. Sugita-san trained there for 12 years, and described his master as diligent, conscientious, kind and patient. He describes his early years as follows:

"In such kind of restaurant, at first you wouldn’t be given a chance to cook easily. So all I could do was sushi delivery. I didn’t hold even a knife in the first year. Though it was a little bit frustrating, I always said to myself “I want to get the first prize by delivering sushi delivery now. I know all about this town!” I thought that way in the first year of my training life. I wanted to be the one who knows everywhere of the street, and could deliver things to the accurate place without using even maps."

He also describes the difficult times at the opening of his restaurant:

"Since 2004 when it just opened, for almost 3 years, there were nearly no customer coming. But since there were many fabric shops gathering together, in the daytime there were many people coming and going. So, people came for lunch. We provided Chirashizushi (colorfully scattered sushi) at an affordable price, 900 yen. On the other hand, the number of customers decreased at night, so there were nearly none to come."

At the time of my visit (August 2019), Sugita was ranked the best restaurant of any type in all of Japan on Tabelog. I only saw the chef at the beginning and end of the meal, but enough to get a sense of his character. Sugita-san represents the best of Japan, with his humble personality and his welcoming attitude.

I was at the side counter (3-4 people) where sushi is brought. The sushi at Sugita is consistently outstanding. None of it failed to live up to the reputation. I am told by a regular that Sugita is the most consistent sushi chef. In short, I would say that the depth of taste is deeper than Saito, and represents the best that sushi can offer. In contrast, Saito would be easier to like for international guests and requires less experience to appreciate. Saito appears more sophisticated, but in my opinion, for those who know where to look, Sugita has the depth of taste that the truly sophisticated Japanese food can offer.

Reservations: Like Saito, it used to be that the only way to get a reservation, other than being invited by a regular customer, is through Arry. A yearly membership to Arry costs 円60,000 and a meal at Sugita will cost approximately 円40,000. However, starting November 2019, Sugita is now on Tableall. Sugita remains an extremely difficult reservation to make. 

"Sento" refers to public bath, while “onsen” refers to the use of natural water. For example, onsen will usually be within a hotel in a destination with naturally heated water, such as Hakone or Arima onsen.

What is the best sento in Tokyo? In my opinion, the best one is the one near your house. People in Tokyo spend enough time commuting to work, so I would recommend a visit at any local sento. However, if you are not sure where to go, I can recommend the following:

“Minami Aoyama Shimizu-yu” near Omotesando station is well-located and they have slightly larger than usual baths. They are closed on Friday. This is their website. It is a slightly nicer version of the typical sento.

If you would like to experience special and natural water in Tokyo, you can try “Take no yu” near Azabu-Juban station. Their water is naturally black and leaves a soft feeling! They are closed on Monday and Friday. This is their website.

If you have tattoos, most public baths will not allow you inside because in Japan, tattoos are linked to organized crime. I would suggest “Bunka Yokusen” one station away from Shibuya (Ikejiri-Ohashi station). They are open every day until 1 am, as well as Sunday morning for "asa furo" (morning bath). This is their website.
 
Although it may take some getting used to, I recommend spending one hour at the sento. I would take my time to clean myself thoroughly using a bath towel and soap, perhaps brush my teeth, and then alternate between the hot and cold bath (it is not very cold and actually more relaxing than the hot bath in my opinion). Using the sauna requires an extra fee that can be between 300 and 500円. You can rent a towel and buy shampoo and bath soap.

The first time I went to a sento, I remember feeling annoyed that I had to wash myself before taking a bath on a small chair that was not comfortable. However, this feeling goes away quickly and taking your time to wash yourself while comfortably sitting is an enjoyable part of life in Japan after a long day at work.

I expected that Kimura would be different, since it specializes in aged sushi. I did not expect it would be so delicious, uncontrollably so.

Already with the otsumami, I started laughing because I could not control myself. Neither could the man next to me, we looked at each other and our look just said it all. The woman next to him was smiling warmly, in a way that seemed to indicate she knew something I didn’t. I asked her if it was her first time, and she made a round shape with her hands in front of her face. She was Kimura-san’s sister, and she comes often. Everyone started laughing, the chef also showing the round shape of his head with his hands.

The chef’s story is genuinely inspiring, as told by Tableall:

“The idea for ageing fish came to him as he lamented discarding whole blocks of his beloved white fish that had gone bad while waiting for customers. Despite having carefully chosen these pricey pieces at the market, he had to toss them in the garbage. But he grew curious about their flavor. Digging into the center flesh, which still had beautiful color, one taste revealed a sweetness he had never experienced in white fish. It dawned on him that the flesh becomes deliciously sweet just before it spoils. The only problem was the smell. Experimentation began: a new fridge, variable temperature settings, and constant assessment of how the fish and innards evolve to find the ultimate in aged sushi, sometimes with not great results for Kimura’s own stomach. But with advice from the tempura master to push the boundaries and be left with no regrets, he persevered. The discoveries he made through tireless research are now the key to his success.”

Luxeat also has a great post on Kimura:

“Kimura-san believes one can never love a restaurant from the bottom of his/her heart unless it’s his/her own. For example, when he cleans the toilet he doesn’t mind using bare hands. He doesn’t think you can be this committed if the restaurant is not yours.  He believes if he employed someone, he would have to do everything all over again himself. Also, working hours at his restaurant would be very long, maybe about 22 hours per day.  It would be against the law, so he cannot employ anyone. (…) I asked how is it possible to do such work with only 3 hours of sleep and Kimura-san said that it is possible, but he thinks he would die young. He said he has no stress and loves working on his own. He is a happy man when he is holding his knife, but in order to do everything himself, he has to cut his sleeping hours. This is less stressful than employing someone. If he finds some other method that makes this aging process easier, maybe he could work for less hours.”

One of the most inspiring, special, pleasurable, unforgettable and delicious meal of my life, where every dish was better than the last one. Thank you, Koji Kimura-sama. This was the first time where I could feel how sushi comes from a chef’s heart. 

Reservations: Some years ago, it would have been possible to get a reservation through a concierge, but now it is not possible. The chef basically takes reservation from his friends through social media. I would suggest  Tableall as the best way.

Spending time at this Zen temple in Kyoto changed my life, by allowing me to see and to feel that less is more. A futon. Simple bathrooms without heating. An old, rustic tokonoma with tulips, arranged in nageire style of naturalistic ikebana. A heated table with a jar of hot water, a small container of green tea, one cup, and a sweet. A small mirror. At first, you think that it is rustic and charming, and that the view on the garden is the luxury.

After living there for some time, after spending time in the cold, you see that this simple lifestyle is not charming: it is luxurious. Walking back to the temple at night through Myoshin-ji was beautiful and calming.  

There is nothing, yet there is everything. Taking a warm bath feels like a luxury. The green tea and dried persimmon left a satisfying feeling. The quietness of the temple seemed otherworldly.

The breakfast, made by the temple and eaten with the other guests, is simple. I am not sure why it felt so luxurious to be waken up by the temple at 7:30 and told that the breakfast was ready. This breakfast was made with the guests in mind, the miso soup was delicious. Checking-in by simply saying your name and being shown to your room, as this family living here was waiting for you, no key, no passport, no deposit, no credit card. The ultimate simplicity and luxury.

The temple business is somewhat mysterious, with some criticism that they do not pay any taxes. Yet, Daishin-in was not about money at all. Even though I stayed 5 nights, they only asked me to pay for 4 nights. They do not speak English and they take reservations by phone, and then confirmed by postcards, which means that most guests are Japanese.

Most sub-temples are closed to the public and very few offer a shukubo (宿坊) temple stay experience. I felt extremely lucky to be welcomed there.

We all know that less is more. But we don’t see it, we don’t feel it, and we don’t believe it. Staying for five days at Daishin-in temple, I saw, I felt, and believed.
 
Reservations: You will need a Japanese friend to make this reservation for you. A night with breakfast costs around 5,000 yen. You must be within the temple at 9pm when the door closes. Lights out at 10pm. Please do not make any noise. I had access to wifi in my room. If you do not speak any Japanese, it may be uncomfortable for you and for the temple and you may want to stay instead at Shunko-in, where you can learn in English about meditation and the life of the temple.

My favorite lunch in Tokyo is a 1,200円 oyakodon (chicken and egg over rice) at Manwu. This price includes a miso soup and dessert, usually warabi mochi. They also serve 1,400円 gyudon (beef).

I want to discuss Manwu because I believe I am guilty of misrepresenting Japanese food on my blog. Yes, expensive Japanese restaurants are some of the best in the world and they embody Japanese culture. However, most Japanese people have never been. The average amount of money that a Japanese man has to spend per month (okozukai) is 400$, including his cellphone bill. Having Manwu’s oyakodon for lunch is itself a luxury. These expensive and exclusive restaurants are only a small part of Japanese culinary culture. You would be missing most of Japanese food by not venturing beyond the award-winning dining establishments. Do you know some famous home cooking food like oyakodon, nimono, buri daikon, takenoko gohan, and saba no misoni?

Oyakodon is a seemingly simple dish, but simple is often the most difficult. I brought Japanese friends to this restaurant and they all agreed that it was the best oyakodon they ever had. It is just delicious and leaves a good feeling in your body. Only in Tokyo can you enjoy a masterpiece oyakodon in an expensive office tower, with kimono-clad staff, made by a chef that trained for decades, for a fraction of the price it is worth. The amount of effort, for no financial gain other than to give please customers and hope that some of them will come back to eat oden for dinner, is inspiring.

I asked the chef if his secret was the high-quality dashi. He said it also requires constant attention not to overcook it. The way it is cooked is beautiful: the bottom is cooked, ensuring that the rice does not become soggy, but the top remains soft and raw. I asked him why he does not use chicken with skin (as some other restaurants do), he said that he prefers not to have the fatty aftertaste. He also said that skin would overpower the taste of the dashi.

I think it can be difficult to remain motivated, especially if you are not one of the most recognized restaurant. The chef told me about his 2-hour commute every day, being open 7 days a week, and the high cost of ingredients. Chef Toshihiro Yoshida puts extraordinary effort into his food and he speaks fluent English, Japanese, and even some French.

The luxury of eating sushi at Saito is obvious, but in my opinion, it is a Western idea of luxury. Japanese people are sensitive to the real luxury of life. They may think, for example, about enjoying time outside under the cherry trees. Having Manwu’s oyakodon and meeting the chef is without a doubt a true luxury I am grateful for, just like sleeping at Dashin-in.

***

Actually, Manwu is not an oyakodon restaurant. At night, they serve “oden”.

Chef Yoshida spent 20 years at the main branch of this restaurant in Osaka learning how to make oden, and he is most proud of his whale oden (in particular the tongue). You can read an interview with the chef from his time in Osaka (link).

If you are interested in oden, this restaurant would provide a great experience because the chef speaks fluent English. Incredible effort goes into each piece, from custom-made tofu to special dashi. This is the real Japan: hard work with little recognition, little financial gain, and the only joy being the happy customers. You should consider going to try a couple of pieces à la carte, including the konnyaku, whale tongue and another piece with one glass of sake, it should not cost too much. They also offer an omakase menu.

Reservations: Not necessary at lunch, they accept cash only at lunch (11am-1:15pm). For dinner, try calling yourself as the chef speaks English. The restaurant is on the third floor of Tokyo Garden Terrace Kioicho. Link to Tabelog.