Sasaki: Outsider's Look

Of course, this is not going to be completely free of prejudice; I had been working at Sasaki for several months until I finally got to eat in the establishment. It took me five months and friends from Tokyo/New York/Hong Kong to work up the energy to make myself a reservation.

Yes, it's awfully difficult to get a seat at Sasaki. Currently (as of September 2008), all seats are booked for the year, and Oyassan isn't taking any reservation for next year until December 5th. Every night the restaurant is completely packed, a wonderful phenomenon for a restaurant to be full-capacity on a daily basis.

My friend, his wife and his parents came to visit the terrifyingly hot and humid ancient capital during their vacation in early-August. Though the heat of Kyoto struck them viciously, particularly compared to their prior stop of Hokkaido, they braved it not only with a smile, but with style. I stumbled into the dining room in my sundress and beads of perspiration on my back, where the lovely family was already seated dressed handsomely and acrisp in tailored shirts.

A feast in such hot weather is a tricky thing. Eating produces heat inside the body. So does drinking alcohol. Enjoying rich foods and alocoholic drinks may taste good initially, but doesn't feel good in the end in extreme heat. Spending the first full Kyoto summer had been a challenge for yours truly as well; I had been consuming only crisp lager-type beers and kakino-tane crackers as dinner and ice cream bars as breakfast and lunch.

As a way to battle this sort of culinarily disasterous and non-nutritious diet, Japanese food marketers work on the "stamina" approach, boasting nutrition-rich foods as suitable for summer. The most traditional summer stamina food is the barbecued eel. Although it started from a clever business strategy, it is an age-old tradition to eat the fatty fish in the summer. Along a similar line, you are encouraged to eat hot and spicy foods in the summer, since drinking and eating chilled foods often during this season weakens the digestive system.

But, really, do you honestly want to eat fatty and spicy foods in summer? I personally don't. I simply want to eat seasonal foods and feel good after the meal. At Sasaki I looked forward to a beautifully prepared kaiseki cuisine with seasonal ingredients to restore my body.

We were not in for a dissapointment.

The meal started with a visually stunning dish of sea urchin (Rausu, Hokkaido) and sweet white shrimp (Toyama) sandwitched between blanched zuiki, or sweet potato stem, all surrounded by gelee of tomato water. The next plate was three small glass cups surrounded by ice that held meat from Hokkaido hairy crab and diced mountain potato, pike eel roe with vinaigrette, and tofuyo, a cheese-like fermented tofu well-known in Okinawa. These three items are a dangerous invitation for sake.

After the first two chilled dishes, the soup course is a welcoming experience. Fluffy pieces of hamo, pike eel, with its bones cut to perfection curl up like chrysanthemum flowers. Hamo is the summer fish in Kyoto; its delicate flavor is treasured in this city and appears prominently during Gion Festival in July. The delicate broth with grated okra slips down the throat in the most pleasurable way imaginable. The warmth settles the stomach and prepares us for more to come.

The sashimi platter is plated magnificently for two. Raw octopus (Okayama) is tender and sweet; pike eel yakishimo style with its skin-side charred has a rippling mouthfeel and is completely different texture-wise from the one we found in the soup; kuruma prawn (Ohita) is sweet and flavorful, unlike the dry tasteless ones I've found in New York. Two pieces of toro sushi with fresh wasabi the size of small mountains complete the course with a great sense of satisfaction.

Ayu, or Japanese river trout, is grilled on charcoal. The small yet fully-grown wild ayu is a specialty of Lake Biwa in Shiga prefecture. You can eat the whole fish from head to tail, allowing you to explore its sweet and tender meat, bitter intestines and crisp fins and tail. The following dish is slow-poached abalone from Shimane. The large slices are served room temperature with natural fish gelee flavored with citrus vinegar. The accompanying Mizu eggplant and Fushimi peppercorns are Kyoto's special local vegetables. The eggplant is served raw, only rubbed with salt and unroasted sesame oil to rid its extra water, and tastes as sweet as a ripe fuit. Fushimi peppercorn is grilled and marinated in dashi; it bursts with flavor as you bite into it.

A hot pot - literally so hot that the broth is still bubbling - is filled with tilefish from Tsushima and matsutake mushrooms. After eating the epitomical Kyoto summer fish hamo in serveral previous courses, the tilefish is a wonderful change of texture and flavor. Matsutake mushrooms hint the much awaited approach of autumn.

The rice is cooked in a clay pot and topped with fillets of grilled sanma, or saury, from Hokkaido. It's a fishy fish, not to mention a home cook's ingredient rarely seen in a kaiseki restaurant. Grated daikon and pickled mibuna (a Kyoto vegetable somewhere between lettuce and spinach) cuts the fat of sanma and adds freshness to the dish.

The dessert is layered cantaloup and melon gelee with seasonal fresh fruits, white peach, Kyoho grape and watermelon.

Wonderful food in a lovely setting and good friends make a special experience. Filled with good food and sake, I slept like a baby.

Waking up was another surprise; I was hungry, ready for a good breakfast. The meal from the night before was satisfying and nutritious, yet not heavy. I felt energized and refreshed. Now, that's "stamina" food.

Gion Sasaki

075-511-5000

Yasaka-dori, Ohwaoji Higashi Hairu, Higashiyama-ku, Kyoto

Hours: Lunch 12 pm, Dinner 6:30 pm (Arrive at least 10 minutes before)

Budget: Lunch 8,000+ yen, Dinner 20,000+ yen

Sasaki: Insider's Look 1 - Pre-service

I zip through the streets of Gion district on my speed bicycle and arrive at the restaurant at 3:55pm. I park the bike in the garage, change my shoes into zori slippers, grab the reservation board from the shoe closet area and head upstairs. I climb the stairs quietly, as to not awake Oyassan's - Chef's - precious nap. I put my backpack in the private dining room and turn the cell phone on silent. It's 3:58pm; I head back downstairs to the kitchen.

Ayumi-chan, one of the training cooks, has turned the lights back on in the kitchen. We say good morning to each other and chat a little. I hear the cooks stir as they awake from their 20-minute nap; they have been working since 8 am with hours of prep and lunch service before my arrival.

We exchange good morning, the standard first-time-of-the-day greeting choice for Japanese workplace no matter what time of the day it is. Terashima-san, one of the nakai like me, comes in humming an unidentifiable tune. I grab the reservation books, check slips and tonight's menu and take a seat at the counter. Oyassan comes in and we all say good morning.

The meeting starts. "Tonight we have 17 at the counter, 6 at the table and 5 upstairs." He goes over the menu. This particular evening we are serving:


1. Sea urchin and sweet shrimp wrapped in pounded baby lotus root, served with gelee made from the stock taken from the heads of sweet shrimp and sudachi juice.

2. Firfly squid (hotaruika) "pizza" with mochi dough.

3. Tender braised abalone with abalone liver sauce, steamed white asparagus and broad beans.

4. Toro and bonito sushi. Sashimi of snapper with torched skin, kuruma shrimp , live scallop and its roe tossed in sesame oil.

5. Clear broth soup with fried golden-eye snapper and burdock, shiitake, trefoil and sesame.

6. Ohmi beef roasted with salt crust and wrapped in cherry blossom leaf (picture is before it gets wrapped and crusted).

7. Junsai, cucumbers and yamaimo in light vinaigrette with pickled plum.

8. "Hot pot"-style braised sea eel and new onion with mountain ferns and peppercorn florets.

9. Rice with fresh baby sardines (shirasu), grated radish and mibuna pickles cooked in clay pot.

10. Coconut blanc-mange with mango, blueberry and white peach.


Oyassan goes over the plates for each dish. It's May. Summery glass tableware is still too early, while springtime dishes seem a little behind-the-season. Oyassan makes a mental note to purchase more tableware. He goes over the front-of-house mise-en-place: small silver spoon for the first dish, large soup spoon for the clear broth, oshibori change after the beef, small soup spoon for the hot pot and dessert silver for the final dish. He then lists where the main ingredients are from.

Tonight the sea urchin is from Rausu in Hokkaido and the sweet shrimp from Ishikawa ; the firefly squid is from Toyama ; the abalone is from Shimane and the white asparagus from Kagawa; both the toro and the bonito are from Katsu'ura in Wakayama, the snapper from Okayama, the kuruma shrimp from Ohita and the scallop from Hokkaido; the golden-eye is from Chiba's Boso area; the beef is clearly from Ohmi; the sea eel from Okayama; the baby sardines are from Shizuoka; finally, the mango is from Miyazaki.

I take notes on mise-en-place and ingredient source right on the menu for other servers. Diners do not get a written menu. The beautifully written menu pages in Oyassan's calligraphy are just for cooks and nakais.

Then, Oyassan lists off the counter seating for the night, saving the center (in front of Oyassan himself) for the best regulars. All the customers are regulars; it's extremely difficult to get a reservation otherwise. I will go into detail about hard-to-get reservation restaurants. But here, for now, let me just mention that this particular restaurant's reservation system came to be simply out of Oyassan and Okamisan (his wife) working to grow their business by making sure the repeating customers are taken care of.

"Soredewa, konban mo yoroshiku onegai shimasu!" (Loosely translated; "OK then, let's have a good service!")

The cooks get right to work adding the final touch before dinner service, torching fish, portioning vegetables, organizing plates, etc. I get the mise-en-place ready with silverware, chopsticks, napkins and post the menu in the kitchen.

Terashima-san and I go upstairs to the staff room. Soon enough Ayumi-chan brings us tea and sweets. The sweets are provided usually by gourmand customers who want Oyassan to try particularly well-known snacks from all over Japan. We sip tea and eat. Ayumi-chan being the only female cook gets to relax a bit with the two of us.

At 4:45 we change into kimonos. At first, Terashima-san pretty much dressed me from zero for a full hour. Now I can dress myself (woohoo!) in 30 minutes. Really, though, I'd say that less than 10% of Japanese women can wear a kimono by themselves. I was reassured by our sweet Okamisan to not worry about my American upbringing that never required me to learn to wear a kimono.

We head back downstairs. Freshly clad in kimonos and with retouched make-up, we say good morning to the chefs again. We set up the counter seats and the tables for service, check the restrooms, turn on the lights and, as with all high-end Japanese restaurants, cleanse the leading steps and the street in front of the restaurant with water. The glistening stones of the small path that leads up to the front entrance also get ready to welcome the guests for the evening.

Okamisan and Terashima-san stand outside, while I sit in the entry way to welcome the guests.

It's 6 pm.

Sasaki: Insider's Look - Introduction

Up to this point, I have gone to and written about Kyoto restaurants as a visitor; when I went to Hyotei back in December 2007 I was still living in the New York. My life as a Kyotoite started in February of 2008 as I finally settled down to unpack the thirteen boxes I shipped from the States, impressed that they arrived exactly within the one-hour time frame given by the Japanese moving company.

It's a funny thing - and, I think, a common thing for many people - that I stopped being so vigorous to go to restaurants since I started to actually live in Kyoto. The idea that I will not need to count the number of meals, and thus the number of reservations, according to the length of my stay has made me feel less urgent in eating at various places.

I did, however, start something no visitor to Kyoto can do; I decided to work at a kaiseki restaurant in the Gion district as a nakai, a kimono-wearing server. And not just any kaiseki restaurant in Gion; I decided to work at Sasaki.

Sasaki is famous for its dynamic counter-style kaiseki cuisine and infamous for being the restaurant with the most difficult reservation to secure in Kyoto. I have also tried to make a reservation at Sasaki every time I traveled to Kyoto. And, of course, every time it was fully booked.

Whether the decision to work there is from brilliant professionalism or gluttony is up for debate. I will be honest, however, to unabashedly disclose the following thought-process; If I can't eat there as a customer, why not work there to see its food and service? And maybe, just maybe, I'll get to taste some of the dishes (with a half-smile and eyebrows slightly raised).

I did get a close look at the food and the service. I did get to eat not only some, but most of what has been served through the seasons. Not only that, I got to meet, work with and befriend a warm group of people who made me feel at home in Kyoto.

For the next several posts I will share the insider's experience at this little special restaurant run by a magnificently caring couple.

Hyotei

Life makes us temporal beings, and temporality makes history a significant factor in the way we humans think about everything that surrounds us. In understanding any subject, whether it be literature, music or science, historical contexts play an essential role.

Food, of course, is no exception.

Kyoto, the ancient capital of Japan from 794, is a city that thrives its present self on the past. Major headquartered industries (besides Nintendo) center around historic tourism and maintenance of art and culture passed on from centuries before.

The setting and cuisine of Hyotei are representative of such historicity. Without understanding its historical context, the experience at Hyotei cannot be fully appreciated. The restaurant with its current name started in 1837 after already serving its customers over six decades as an unnamed rest-stop/tea house for pilgrims to Nanzenji Temple, which, of course, still exists; it has since 1291.

Yes, 1291.

Coming from the New York City restaurant scene, where any establishment that lasts over six years is "long-standing," I necessarily shift my mental gear in this little old town. Important points in considering New York restaurants, such as ownership and management, celebrity or well-known chefs, opening reviews and innovativeness, do not weigh nearly as heavily as tradition, history and legend. Literary giants like Sannyo Rai (late-18th to early-19th C.) and Aritomo Yamagata (late-19th to early-20th C.) have thoroughly patronized Hyotei through their careers, adding to the legend, not unlike the way Hemingway left his mark at Lipp's in Saint-Germain. More recently the restaurant was bookmarked in the gourmet comic book series "Oishinbo" (1983 to present) in one of its episodes.

As with all history, the act of telling and retelling the history of Hyotei over the centuries adds layers to the place itself, creates it, and becomes it. The restaurant, therefore, is more than its food on a specific night, the single dinner from a personal experience.

(This point applies to all premises, old and new, even in New York City, so, ahem, hear me out, put that on your plate and eat it, Mr. Bruni.)

The dinner on this damp chilly December evening is my own participation in the history of Hyotei. The wonderful thing about food that cannot be done with paintings or sculptures is that I get to eat it, and by eating it I get to prevent it from escaping in the back of my conscious mind as just another passing object in a museum. Food allows me to join the making of history by tasting it, recounting it.

The dishes speak for themselves, not requiring any historical explanation to make them taste better than they already do. Knowing the historical context, however, makes more sense of them. (Imagine going to Notre Dame without knowing it is a religious monument. It is still the same magnificent building and would inspire awe from anyone without the critical information. However, being aware of the socio-religious background of the church and the history of the l'Ile de la Cite, la Seine, the bridges, etc., adds to the experience.)

Upon arrival we are met by the lady of the house who leads us to our room. Hyotei is composed of five guest buildings, each with a private room, and a main building, connected by narrow stone paths. Each room overlooks the quaintly beautiful garden from various angles, never offering the same view from two rooms. As the sun drops we are directed to a small tea house, where the cheerful banquet atmosphere can be detected only through the faintly audible voices, not in actual site. The architecture of the buildings allows us to feel as though we are the only ones there to be taken care of.

The dinner starts with yuba (tofu skin) covered in a delicate turnip sauce, a welcoming warm first course on a shivery winters night. The snapper sashimi that follows is sliced generously thick, letting us thoroughly enjoy its flavor and texture. I slide sips of chilled sake from an intricately cut glass between my bites. The soup with gentle white miso and lily bulb tofu with exactly three pieces of sweet red beans is a traditional composition; the combination of white miso and sweet red beans often make an appearance together in Western Japanese ozoni, New Year's soup. The hassun plate features soy-marinated monk fish liver, a mini-sushi of snapper, karasumi (part-dehydrated salted roe of striped mullet), miso-marinated stem lettuce and the famous Hyotei egg, a semi-hard-boiled egg with a tender bright orange center. We alternate back to a warm dish, takiawase of rice cracker-crusted ebi-imo yam in snow crab nage; shimeji mushrooms, gingko nuts and chrysanthemum leaves add textural and palate-awakening accents. Grilled soy-marinated sawara (Spanish mackerel) with white turnip carved in the shape of a chrysanthemum flower is followed by a braise of duck quenelle with kinntoki carrot, daikon and yuzu. The savories are wrapped up with oshokuji of white rice cooked in a traditional iron pot served with pickled vegetables.

Dessert arrives and I scoop out the juicy flesh of Daishiro persimmon cut in half and drizzled with kirsch. I think to myself, this must be the most complete dessert, and share my thought with my husband, who nods in agreement. The tender translucent fruit has a texture somewhere between sorbet, gelee and cantaloupe and an intense sweetness that I wish would linger for just a little longer on my palate. The second dessert is a confectionery of lily bulb paste shaped like a flower covered in snow. Matcha served traditionally in a bowl beautiful even to the touch concludes the evening.

The menu is textbook Kyoto kaiseki dinner, a thoroughly thought-out meal that fully considers the gifts of the land and season. The use of seasonal local ingredients, such as turnip, snapper, lily bulb, monk fish liver, karasumi, ebi-imo yam, snow crab, sawara, daikon and persimmon, is an epitome of the fundamental ideology of Japanese cuisine. Because Hyotei has long-trusted relationships with local farmers and purchase directly from them, the vegetables they use have a deeper flavor and, some even say, more nutrition than those available at markets. The same goes for fish and meat; for this reason rare and highly valued ingredients particular to the region are abundantly used in their dishes.

There is nothing flashy about the menu or the dining experience despite the generous use of the best ingredients, priceless tableware and one-of-a-kind setting. Unlike Mizai, where the glamorous presentation of dishes and Chef Ishihara's passionate character create an energy-filled atmosphere, Hyotei's allure is in its understated elegance and quietude through which one can actually feel the history.

Some criticize Hyotei for lacking readily tangeable splendor. Others question if the food at this too well-reknowned establishment is truly "the best" they have ever had. I believe these are honest reactions from experienced diners who could have had an enlightening dining experience had they considered the historical context of the cuisine at Hyotei.
So study up and make a reservation.


Hyotei
075-771-4116
Kyoto City, Sakyo-ku, Nanzenji, Kusakawa-machi 35
Kaiseki: 11 am - 7:30 pm
Budget: Lunch 23,000+ yen, Dinner 27,000+ yen
(They are also famous for their asagayu, morning porridge, served in July and August only from 8 to 10 am.)
Closed 2nd and 4th Tuesdays of the month
Reservation required

Mizai

Located within Maruyama Park, Mizai is a special place even among all the special places in Kyoto. From the moment you find the converted tea house in the park, the transporting experience begins. Even if you are a Kyotoite, you feel like a tourist having dressed for the occasion and walking passed Yasaka shrine and Chion-in. Even if you are neither tourist nor Japanese, you will find yourself taking pictures. Being both, I cannot help snapping away at the scenery.

My visit to Mizai was in September of 2007, the city still sweltering from the residual heat of the summer. I didn't know what to expect when I made the reservation; Mizai simply happened to be one of the restaurants my husband had listed as places to try. En route we find out from our cab driver how lucky we are to have gotten a reservation in such short notice: three days in advance.

What I find out throughout the course of the night is that I am in for a night of spectacular performance by legendary Chef Ishihara in the form of a dinner. He is a well-known prodigy in the kaiseki world, appointed as the youngest executive chef at Kiccho in Arashiyama, Kyoto, where he worked for some thirty years until he opened Mizai, his first solo restaurant in 2005. He has a fiery aura, exuding passion and monitored tenderness toward food and service.

Chef Ishihara's show begins at 6 pm sharp. When you make the reservation you are reminded to be at the restaurant 15 minutes earlier. As a ten-seat counter kaiseki restaurant serving only that many people a night, all the diners start at the same time for the one and only seating of the evening.

We arrive exactly at 5:45 pm. After being greeted by one of Chef Ishihara's apprentices, we sit in a porch-like area outside and are served machi-cha, literally "waiting tea." Only when the restaurant is ready to welcome the guests, are we invited to enter, one party at a time.

We sit toward the middle of the counter. The disciple who brought us machi-cha asks our beverage preference and I ask for chilled sake with the dinner. Here, as in other traditional counter kaiseki and sushi restaurants, there are no female servers; one of the all-male disciples works the front-of-house as a part of his apprenticeship. At several places run this way, I have felt a lack of finesse in atmosphere, secretly wondering to my feminist self maybe there is such a thing as a woman's touch. Not here; in its impeccable hospitality style is a certain masculine glamour.

The dinner begins with an aperitif of chrysanthemum sake, a visual delight of pale yellow petals floating in clear liquid, poured to our cups by the chef himself. Following the tradition of cha kaiseki (tea kaiseki), the first course is a small portion of steamed white rice and two small plates of seasonal vegetables. The rice is to prepare the stomach to make the drinking experience more pleasurable. What a bright idea, I think, being that person who often enjoys sake too much with a good meal. The vegetable dishes are chilled grilled eggplant with mustard and slender pieces of sweet potato and Asian pear with goji berries and grapes. The savoriness and spiciness of the first dish and the sweetness and mild acidity of the second open up my palate.

I'm ready.

And here it comes, a dazzling plate of sashimi for two: oh-toro, tai, yariika (spear squid), aji (jack mackerel), and hirame engawa (fluke fin) served with grated daikon, julienned scallions, grated ginger, tamari soy gelee and sudachi juice mixed with nigari (reduced natural salt water). The presenation of the beautifully cut pieces of fish on a dynamic pottery oeuvre draws out gasps and sighs from the guests.

The following Hassun plate is a world of its own, representative of the wealth of land and sea: baby hamo (pike eel) with its own liver, ikura and salmon with grated daikon, simmered sanma (saury), a piece of deep-fried chestnut, braised baby octopus, sliced roast duck with whole-grain mustard and pickled hot pepper leaves.

My husband pours me yet another cup of sake.

While we make our way through the platter with sips of sake in between, Chef Ishihara starts on the soup course. It is a clear broth with suppon maru-dofu (quenelle of sea turtle meat and tofu binded with egg), matsutake mushrooms and yuzu. Served in a red lacquered bowl, this fragrant and flavorful dish announces the approaching autumn with its ingredients and color.

Pieces of seared Wagyu with sansho pepper and pickled zuchinni are followed by a palate cleansing sorbet of sweet black beans and kabocha pumpkin. Julienned myoga adds a little pep to the delicately warm braised dish of anago (sea eel), winter melon and suguki (pickled radish particular to Kyoto). I enjoy the remainder of my sake with generous cuts of steamed abalone, flash-cooked okra and seared kamasu (barracuda).

Because we were served steamed rice at the beginning of the meal, Chef Ishihara changes up the final course with yuto, rice soup flavored only with the rice itself and hot water and, if any, the faintest hint of broth to bring out the taste of rice. Home-pickeled vegetables served aside provide a savory crunch. My husband has a second helping of the yuto.

I think, I don't want this to end. And my wish is granted.

The first of three desserts is a traditional Japanese confectionery made with chestnuts, sweet white bean paste and sweet red beans with a sprinkle of roasted buckwheat. Following the cha kaiseki tradition, matcha in a graceful tea bowl is served. A fruit plate flaunts the harvest of the season to come (autumn) and season to end (summer); pieces of white peach, fig and Asian pear, Pione grapes and strawberries are covered in a light blueberry sauce. The final dessert of red shiso granite with plum wine gelee caps off the night with an alcoholic buzz.

Surrounding the counter, we are all beaming with satisfaction; it is not unlike the atmosphere in a concert hall at the end of a glorious performance where the audience feels connected with one another for having experienced something spectacular together. Chef Ishihara and his assistants also glow inside the counter, taking in our contentment as a standing ovation.

I can confidently say that my dinner at Mizai that September evening is one of the most enjoyable meals I have ever had. More than any other kaiseki or French restaurants I have been to, Mizai not only has a dazzling quality to its every dish and presentation, but also to how they are carried out throughout the course of the evening. Chef Ishihara's serene passion charges the room with a sort of electricity that makes this place truly special.

(Note: The restaurant only takes reservations from party of two. Find yourself a good food-loving companion, if you are in Kyoto solo. Or come find me; I'll go any time).

Mizai

075-551-3310

Kyoto City, Higashiyama-ku, Yasaka Torii Mae Higashi Hairu, Maruyama Machi 620-1 (Inside Maruyama Park)

Hours: 6pm

Closed Wednesdays

Budget: 25,000 yen
No credit cards accepted

Daiichi

After our visit to Soujiki Nakahigashi, Mr. Nakahigashi himself makes my dining companion a couple resevations at some of his favorite places in Kyoto, one of which is Daiichi, a suppon nabe (hot pot) restaurant that has been around since late-17th century.


Suppon is snapping or soft-shelled turtle, one of the delicacies in Chinese, French and Japanese cuisines. You can pretty much eat all parts of this animal besides its shell, nails, bladder, gallbladder and brain. Suppon meat has a light and proteinous flavor and - I know, but I can't help it - tastes like chicken. Compared to other meats such as beef, pork and lamb, it is low in protein and fat contents and high in vitamins B1 and B2. Because it has a distinctive odor, traditional Japanese cooking method involves ginger, scallions and a lot of sake. Not to mention that suppon dishes go very, sigh, very well with sake.


Daiichi only serves the suppon nabe tasting menu. So, really, you don't have to speak a word of any language and get served the same thing as the party in the next room. It starts with simmered suppon meat served cold, followed by the ever-so-famous suppon nabe. The nabe course is served in two parts, "so that you can enjoy it longer" as the kimono-clad servers will tell you. And this nabe, if you are game for interesting meaty flavors, is to die for. What I mean by "game for interesting meaty flavors" is that you are someone who, oh yes, will try that tripe at dim sum and, sure why not, have eaten a piece of sea urchin for the first time without hesitation. Really, though, if you go in there without thinking that it's a, um, turtle, it's good. (For those of you less adventurous eaters, like I said before, it tastes like chicken. )

All jokes aside, it's damn good.

Eat it slowly with sips of sake in between. Let the gelatenous skin melt all over your mouth and feel that goodness of the meat on the back sides of your tongue. There are no vegetables that go in the clay pot that have survived decades, centuries of heat. Literally, the hot pots are cooked in 2,000 degree celcius heat with coke (steam baked charcoal). One of the servers tells me that the pots are flavored with years of use, not unlike a well-trained wok or an iron cast skillet, I think.

When the liquid in the pot turns into good strong stock, rice, mochi and beaten eggs go in, making a flavorful carb-fest of a porridge. Of course, by this time my feet are not touching the ground from the sake that went so well with the previous courses. The porridge is a nice welcome to settle my stomach.

The pickles and fresh fruits that follow are an afterthought. You go home - or to your hotel - in a dream-like state of satisfaction. The next morning it is a bonus that you find your skin in a much better condition from all the collagen and rice you've taken in the night before.

(Note about the restaurant: It only has 8 private tatami rooms where you sit on the floor. You can make yourselves comfortable and strech your legs out since they are private rooms, but it may not be most comfortable if you have a bad back or bad knees. Also, the rooms - the shoji doors and the tatami mats - are a bit worn out; it's up to you take them as a part of the charm of the place or as a mess. Also, your severs may seem less refined than those at kaiseki places in Kyoto; just remember that they are very friendly and match their surroundings well.)




Daiichi
075-461-1775
Kyoto City, Kamigyo-ku, Chojamachi Dori Senbon Nishihairu 6-371
City Bus 6, 10, 46, 55, 201, 206; 3-minute walk from Senbon Demizu stop
Hours: Lunch 12 - 2 pm (Last Order at 1 pm), Dinner 5 - 9 pm (Last Order at 7 pm)
Closed Tuesdays
Reservations required
Budget: Lunch and Dinner 2,300+ yen

Soujiki Nakahigashi

Mr. Nakahigashi, the owner-chef of this popular kaiseki spot near Ginkakuji, goes in the mountains in the morning to gather his ingredients to serve to his customers that day. There is something homely and not-so-uptight about this place with twelve counter seats and two private rooms. The chef himself is a warm gentleman who is eager to answer your questions.

My visit to Nakahigashi was in April of 2005, on my birthday. Because my dining companion is a regular at an exclusive New York sushi place whose owner-chef is good friends with Mr. Nakahigashi, we are seated in the middle of the counter, next to three local Kyotoites that seem like regulars. My dining companion and I toast with cold sake, but when Mr. Nakahigashi hears "Happy Birthday," he pours us a little Champagne. A nice touch.

We are presented with small dishes of local ferns and greens that were gathered by the chef himself that morning. Names of these mountain vegetables are unheard of even for Japanese people. A nare-zushi is served with a small coupe of daiginjo sake. The cheese-like fermented quality of nare-zushi goes with the fragrant sake. Mr. Nakahigashi grills beef, especially for us. Ah, I think, because my dining companion is white. He enjoys it tremendously, further deepening the stereotypical meat-eating Caucasian image. I eat it, too. And it's good; sliced tender pieces of Matsuzaka beef seared rare and topped with grated daikon mixed with egg yolk. Like most Japanese steaks, the beef is well-marbled with that sweetness not found in American beef. To be completely honest, I prefer dry-aged American beef, a hunk of good red meat, to the Japanese shimofuri kind. Sorry, Mr. Nakahigashi, Peter Luger wins...

Oshokuji is white rice cooked in his special pot with a little sea salt sprinkled on top, grilled mezashi (a sardine-like small silver fish) and pickles.

Now this is delicious, worth calling "Main course," as the chef does with a proud smile.

This course epitomizes what Nakahigashi is about; simple local ingredients cooked with perfect technique and precision. The full name of the restaurant is "Soujiki Nakahigashi." Soujiki (草喰) literally means to eat grass. As reflected in this name, the point of Nakahigashi is not fancy ingredients, like Matsuzaka beef, but treating local natural ingredients with the respect they deserve. If you are looking for gorgeous sashimi plates with toro and uni, rich beef, suppon etc., this is not the place to go. But if you are tired of those extravagant ingredients and really want the taste of the earth, this is the right place. Nakahigashi is Yin to most Kyoto kaiseki's Yang.

The home-like feel I noticed upon entering must come from this attitude toward food. As we depart, Mr. and Mrs. Nakahigashi walk us out and bow and wave until our taxi is out of sight. Now that I understand the philosophy and how to enjoy "eating grass," it is a place I definitely want to go back to. No beef, though, chef.

Soujiki Nakahigashi

075-752-3500

Kyoto City, Sakyo-ku, Jodo Dera, Ishibachi-cho 32-3

City Bus 5, 17, 32, 203, 204; 3-minute walk from Ginkakuji Dori stop

Hours: Lunch 12 - 2 pm, Dinner 6 - 9 pm

Closed Mondays

Budget: Lunch 5,000+ yen, Dinner 10,000+ yen

No credit cards accepted

Gion Maruyama

My visit to Gion Maruyama, a beautifully calm kaiseki place with eight counter seats and five tatami rooms, was in April of 2005. It was during the cherry blossom season, but the counter on that particular rainy evening was only filled with one other diner besides my dining companion and myself.

The cherry blossom season is also bamboo shoots and kinome (baby leaf of Japanese pepper) season in Japanese cuisine. The delicate sweetness of bamboo shoots and the awakening freshness of kinome announce the full-on arrival of spring. For many Westerners, the combination of these two seasonal ingredients can be too tame; my dining companion is disappointed that we are served this dish once again; we had it in Tokyo two nights ago, he claims. He likes more powerful flavors and rich textures: uni, seared toro, foie gras, caviar. You cannot enjoy bamboo shoots and kinome in the same frame of mind, I try to explain.

In order to really taste this spring dish, you have to have endured the long damp cold winter of Kyoto and warmed yourself with winter dishes of daikon, nappa, monkfish and fugu, feeling the heat of the food from within spreading through your limbs. (If you are from Palm Springs, it's OK, just imagine that you went through a hard winter. We are not jealous.) Only in spring when you have finally shed your layers, are you prepared to calmly taste the delicate flavors and enjoy the fragrance of of bamboo shoots and kinome.

On our visit to the restaurant, Maruyama Junior (Chef Maruyama's son) grills a whole bamboo shoot on bincho-tan charcoal with its skin on and reveals the tender inside for us to enjoy. It is fragrant and fresh: just the taste of spring.

I'm going out of order, but had to mention the bamboo shoots first. Let's go back to the previous dishes.

On the Hassun plate there is a cherry tomato from Tottori prefecture that was grown in the desert. The desert climate turns on the tomato's survival mode, making it retain as much sugar and water as possible in its fruit. The final product is the sweetest juiciest cherry tomato I have ever tasted.

The sashimi is plated beautifully. I always want to linger on during the sashimi course, sipping sake, trying out different combinations of flavors with dashi gelee, wasabi, soy, peppery tade... But my dining companion eats too fast :(

Oshokuji, the rice dish, is a snapper rice pot and home-made pickles. Kaiseki makes me enjoy sake a bit too much sometimes, so I'm thankful for the stomach-filling rice to settle me down. My companion has a second bowlful.

This particular evening the service is provided by Maruyama Junior. He personally cooks and serves us everything we eat and clears our dishes. We have a pleasant chat, too. Although he is enthusiastic about foreign visitors, he is humble and feels shy speaking in English. He is young, maybe in his early- to mid-thirties. We speak of music, him expressing that he wishes had more time to go to orchestra concerts.

It was a very pleasant meal representative of Kyoto hospitality. Some comments from Japanese reviews claim that service in private tatami rooms can be off at times. Maruyama Jr.'s service to us over the counter, however, was just wonderful. Other comments I have seen criticize the restaurant for not being extravagant enough with its ingredients and presentations. It's true; you don't get as many "wow"-factors here as you may at more dynamic places like Sasaki or Mizai (which I will write about later). What is beautiful about Maruyama, however, is, at least for me, in the restrained presentation and interpretation of the dishes and hospitality; nothing smacks you in the face to wake you up, but rather, flavors, textures and fragrances penetrate through you in the course of the meal, just like Maruyama Jr.'s service did to us.

(Note on room arrangement: Although the counter and the private rooms have chairs, you will take your shoes off upon entering. The counter and private room chairs and tables are directly placed on top of tatami mats. I made the mistake of wearing shoes on bare feet this particular evening: an embarrassing act when you go to an upscale tatami place. Please make sure you carry socks with you even in the summer.)

Gion Maruyama*

075-525-0009

Kyoto City, Higashiyama-ku, Gion Machi Minami

7-minute walk from Keihan Shijo Station

Lunch: 11 am - 1:30 pm Dinner: 5:00 - 7:30 (Last Order)

Budget: Lunch 6,000-8,000 yen; Dinner 20,000 - 40,000 yen

Closed Wednesdays

Newer Sister Restaurant:

Kenniji Gion Maruyama*

075-561-9990

Kyoto City, Higashiyama-ku, Kenniji Seimon Higashi Hairu Minami Gawa

* The original restaurant takes reservations from one diner; the second restaurant near Kenniji only takes reservations from two persons.

Thanks Norman

For Tokyo there's Zagat and Michelin. There's bento.com and even chowhound.com has detailed posts on restaurants in Tokyo.

But Kyoto? Not so much; not in English, at least. Here and there you'll find outdated articles from The New York Times on specific restaurants. Online searches only lead you to random places unheard of by locals.

So what is a foreign gourmand to do? Have breakfast at Starbucks, lunch at McDonald's and poorly served Tokyo-style sushi for dinner? In Kyoto, the traditional food capital of Japan?

Thanks to my friend Norman who pointed out the lack of English-friendly Kyoto restaurant guides, I have decided to start this page to make helpful comments on food places in Kyoto. Along the way I will briefly explain ingredients, cooking technique, seasonality, plating and hospitality tradition particular to Kyoto.

Kyoto is known for its wonderful cuisine. I want to make sure that everyone has proper information and tools to best enjoy it. What I write on specific restaurants is based on my own experience. Although have had the good fortune of trying out different foods and have been surrounded by chefs and true informants on culinary trends, I am neither of them.

I just like food and Kyoto and want to share them with you.