gme.jp

Steak of the gods

It is a truism that much of Japan's best cooking can be found in obscure little backstreet rooms and in the obsessions of individual men. Taro Kawamura is one such man, and his eponymously-named restaurant is one such little room.

Kawamura is rightly classed as a steak restaurant, because the steak is astoundingly good; but while the obsession with ingredients is epitomised by the meat, it extends throughout the ingredients used; there are awabi as large as your face ("I just tell them to bring me as many as they have and buy them all; it keeps up the guys' motivation to go out and catch them", says Kawamura), white truffles (which he gives out in chunks because they're best eaten that way instead of in miserly shavings, so he says), and the famous golden consomme soup, made from the offcuts of the rigorously trimmed and extravagantly expensive meat.

The steak results from a partnership with a local meat supplier, to whom Kawamura put the challenge that each should become the best at what they do, not bothering with the cheap stuff. (The meat supplier is apparently doing just as fine on this business model as is Kawamura.) But the quest for high-class, tender, well-marbled beef is more or less as widespread in Japan as blogging about gadgets; there are no civilians.

Kawamura's real standout is in the way he cooks. Against the prevalence of woodburning ovens and the received wisdom about searing the outside of the meat to keep the juice in, he cooks slow and low. The steaks land on a hotplate with charcoal burning underneath it somewhere around the time that the starters come out, and get gently warmed through for rather a long time. The result is that while a well-done steak will have a deep hint of roast-beef flavour, it's as juicy as if the middle were still mooing and pulls apart with the minimum of effort. That's not to discount the merits of the medium-cooked version, however, which comes slightly pink in the middle and slices rather than falling apart at the touch of your knife, but is no less good.

It probably won't surprise that Kawamura lacks a menu, but there's a subtle difference from other places that take the same approach. Whereas in most Japanese restaurants the reason is that the chef determines the balance of the menu and puts the dishes together based on whatever is most in season (at least in theory), Kawamura's is that he doesn't want to impose on his customers. His stance is that if you ask for it and he can make it, he will.

I've sat and watched him make hamburger patties and mince croquettes from scratch, and he also has a beef-tongue stew secreted somewhere in the fridge. Doubtless there's more to his repertoire than that. You can also go for the set menu, which includes sashimi (raw beef along with fish and awabi), soup, salad, steak, dessert and coffee.

How much? Y25,000 for the set menu, which puts this out of the range of the everyday, even if you could get a booking. Combine the place's eight seats and its popularity with a multitude of constituencies who can stump up the cash (from celebrities, politicians, and captains of business to high-ups from more shadowy organizations) and you'll understand why everyone I've seen eat there books again before they leave--and why the booking dates tend to be about three months ahead.

Where? Google and you'll find it (I'm reluctant to put up the details because I'm fairly sure that owner Kawamura doesn't give them out), though be advised that you'll need to do so in Japanese, and speak Japanese and be fairly patient to get a booking.

Tokyo restaurants: Devi Corner

Unpretentious but seriously good Indian, Takanawa
3-24-21 Takanawa, Minato-ku, Tokyo
Phone: 03-5793-7595
No website

It took three years of driving past this place before we actually gave it a go, but we'll certainly return. It's in an odd little prefab-looking building near the Yamanote line tracks, and the interior is your basic formica tabletops and overcranked airconditioning, but the food -- particularly the curries -- is excellent. Flavourings lean toward the milder end of the spectrum, presumably with an eye on the majority Japanese customer whose tolerance for mouth-searing spiciness is low, though there's no sense whatever that things are toned-down or limp.

Tokyo restaurants: Manuel Churrascaria

I'd been meaning to get to this one after going there the day after Portugal beat England in the World Cup, but other things have intervened and Hikaru Okabe @ the Tokyo Food Page has a review that says pretty much everything I wanted to.

The only thing that marred our experience of the evening was a noisy, drunken idiot at the table next to us (judging from his companions and the conversation, we pegged him as some kind of teacher from nearby Meiji Gakuin, there with two seminar students), who spent an interminable length of time going on about how he wanted to take on America and grind it into dust. Presumably he meant in the business arena and wasn't planning on a frontal military assault, but we were trying not to listen.

None of which detracts from the fact that Manuel is great. The location is obscure, but it's a great, relaxing place to hang out, and the number of wines by the glass was extensive. On the latter, I'm not sure how many varieties are listed on the menu; we just kept making appreciative comments and asking if we could try something else, and the friendly staff happily obliged and gave us a quick rundown on what we were getting.

[Read: Manuel Churrascaria: Shirogane-Takanawa - bento.com review]

Tokyo restaurants: Casa de Fujimori

Meguro Spanish with terrible cooking despite the authentic and high-quality ham and other ingredients -- stay away.

2-16-3 Kami-Osaki, Shinagawa-ku
03-5420-5328
Website

Very rarely in Tokyo have I found myself coming away from a meal feeling that I was fobbed off with poor food and overcharged into the bargain. The latter alone is fairly common; indeed, it's a given in certain parts of town. But getting served bad food is rare. And so, while I've tried to confine myself to writing up favourite restaurants thus far, I'm making an exception to write a cautionary tale about this one.

My spouse and I have been on something of a European spree recently--Portuguese, Italian, French, Spanish--and Casa de Fujimori was a lingering entry on the to-do list given its nearness to Meguro station; in fact, we'd found it full on one previous attempt to get a table on spec. This time we were lucky, at least in that we were able to get in.

The place is spacious and looks the part, and we were getting ready to like it. A couple of initial dishes showcased the quality of the fresh ingredients: a white asparagus and tomato salad, and some excellent, walnutty raw ham from Andalucia, the latter on the menu as part of a limited-time fair involving food from the region.

Then the fun started.

Another item we'd picked from the Andalucian menu, an "omelet" of baby shrimp (sakuraebi), turned up so sodden with oil that we were moved to soak up the excess with some tissues, and despite that proved alternately soggy with oil or burnt to a crisp on tasting. As I couldn't spot any vindictive ex-girlfriends in the kitchen, I was at a loss as to how something so terrible could have made it onto the table.

This vied for worst place with the paella, however. It looked OK on arrival, but as the waitress began dividing it up onto plates for us it soon became apparent that the lower half of the pan's contents were burned black. "You-er-cook it pretty thoroughly, don't you?" said my spouse, to cover her shock. "Yes, that's our style", responded the waitress. Oh well, we thought; at least half of it's edible.

At this point, however, the waitress rolled up her sleeves for the second part of the performance and began attacking the blackly caked-on remainder. Had I been carrying a hammer and chisel I'd have lent her them; she must have been developing forearms like iron rods hacking this stuff off with a spatula umpteen times a day.

She eventually finished, mixed all the black stuff together with the rice remaining in the pan that had, until that point, still been edible, and left us.

We tried a bit, but there was such a colossal volume of oil soaked into the black, manky stuff now mixed with the rice that it left us feeling queasy. I didn't have much appetite the following day, either.

We wondered for a moment whether we'd been unlucky, but the couple at the table alongside us had ordered the same paella, which turned up moments afterward, and they got exactly the same half-burnt dish and the same ritual scraping. I didn't notice whether they ate it all or not -- by that point, our spirits were halfway out of the door -- but perhaps they were old hands who'd swallowed a black bin-liner each before dining to inhibit absorption of the oil.

In short, we left feeling stiffed; I am never going back.

If you are looking for a Spanish restaurant in the area, give Sabado Sabadete a try, and ignore Tokyo Food Page's review ("Perfectly ordinary paella and tapas at inflated Shiroganedai prices"), which is one of their rare misjudgements. You'll come out feeling you've eaten a decent meal for probably less money, and all you have to contend with is the occasional pushiness on the part of the staff in suggesting you order the paella. After all, it's good paella.

Bonus: Here's a review in Japanese I wrote about the place on Livedoor Gourmet in the hope of steering others away; in case it gets taken down, the text is pasted after the jump.

目黒にはよく行きますし、この店の看板を通ると「今度入ってみよう」と思っていたのですが、金曜日の夜やっと入ってみました。
　
　皆さんがパエージャを絶賛されていますが、私に言わせればパエージャを含め、味は「普通」から「まずい」の間でした。
　
　まずはアンダルシアのフェアをやっているとのことだったので期間限定のメニューより桜海老のスペイン風オムレツを注文したのですが、出てきたものは大量の油がしみていて、ティッシュで油を吸い取ったあとじゃないととても食べれない品物でした。それでも、食べてみると焦げと油のダブルパンチでとてもプロの料理人が作ったと思えない味でした。
　
　次は人気のパエージャですが、美味しそうな表面の下に黒い悪夢が隠れていました。店員が皿に分け始めると、上半分はちゃんとしっとりとしたご飯になっているのに、下半分は真っ黒で鍋に焦げついているのが見えてきました。連れが驚いて「し、しっかり焼くんですね」と一言。すると店員は平然と「そうですね、うちはこういうスタイルで」的な返事。さらに驚くことに、上半分の焦げていないところを皿に分けてくれたあと、黒焦げの部分を全力で剥がし始めたではないか。食べさせる気なのです。
　
　これは決して和食でいう美味しいおこげではありません。油の染みた、黒い、食べると胃の調子がおかしくなってしまいそうになる物体です。がんばって少し食べてみたが、まずい以外表現のしようがありません。
　
　しかも、うちだけ外れたかなと思いきや、隣の二人連れもうちと同じ種類のパエージャを頼んでいて、やはり同じように黒焦げを剥がして食わせる拷問のワンシーンが隣でも繰り広げられました。
　
　仕入れている素材（生ハムなど）は最高級のものなのに対して、料理の腕がまるで素人レベルだったとは本当に驚きです。数日たっても、あの食事を思い出してみると怒りがこみ上げてきます。感想を要約しますと「ぼられた」の一言で、二度とこの店には入りません。

Satisfied like a house

I love machine translation. From a voucher for a local izakaya:

The lounge floor which has effect in a spice in an Asian taste. 11 single rooms of respectively rich individuality. Full-scale sum creation dishes are all 60 items, such as the Kobachi peak using the foods in season in plenty, and chest boiled rice adhering to rice and water. Please forget urban noise in "Nishi Azabu TOKA" which can enjoy a full-scale sum creation dish to 4:00 at midnight, and pass the time of important one until it is satisfied like a house.

To an extent I can read between the lines to the original Japanese, but "until it is satisfied like a house" baffles me utterly.

[UPDATE] Found the original on their website, which goes:

アジアンテイストをスパイスに趣のあるラウンジフロアー､それぞれ個性豊かな11の個室｡本格的和創作料理は､旬の食材をふんだんに使った小鉢盛りや自慢の豆腐料理､米と水にこだわったおひつご飯など全60アイテム｡深夜4:00まで本格的和創作料理を楽しめる「西麻布 燈花」で都会の喧騒を忘れ､自宅感覚で心ゆくまで大切なひとときをお過ごし下さい｡

Restaurants: Shuan Tanaka

Akita izakaya with an emphasis on fresh local ingredients
Izumi 2-6-14, Akita-shi
018-864-3220
Website

Didn't get out much on a sojourn at my spouse's relatives in Akita this Golden Week, but we did try this izakaya out last night. Turns out the owner is an avid fisherman and potter, which means freshly-caught ayu on the menu and handmade sake cups and flasks. Portions are on the small side and prices are highish for the locale, but the main attraction is the reasonably-priced and extensive range of sake, with varieties from inside and outside the prefecture taking up roughly equal space. The one blip was the chinmi selection, which went slightly too far into obscurity for our tastes--various bits of ooze from obscure fishy internal organs that were a touch too bitter and/or salty. The bill was about Y5,000 per head for an ample amount of food and drink.

Tokyo's best restaurants: 東京最高のレストラン

I've never had much time for the Tokyo restaurant guides put out by overseas companies like Zagat, and now I have a definitive, worthy opponent for them: if you read Japanese, get 東京最高のレストラン.

Written by six top food writers (I should disclose that one of them, Keiko Moriwaki, is a friend/work associate of my spouse) and now in its fifth year, the guide picks out everything from the big, glittering and obvious to the small and obscure, taking in most conceivable genres along the way. The focus is on the traditional and most common cuisines -- French, Italian, Chinese and Japanese (plus a section for sushi) -- though the rear of the guide provides a more finely broken down section of recommendations by sub-genre, which goes some way to remedying the book's overall deficiency in Asian/ethnic/obscure foods.

"東京最高のレストラン〈2006〉" (ぴあ)

However, this is a minor quibble considering how well the book does what it does. The main strength is an easy-to-understand scoring system and the fact that many of the recommendations either feature a separate review by two different writers or at least have multiple sets of scores, often by up to four people. Rather than simply providing averaged scores, the ability to see the ranges gives you more information about places where opinions are divided. Scores are assigned on the basis of food, service, interior design, value for money and "bonus" (awarded by the reviewers based on how much the place impressed them or had something that set it apart from the competition).

All the bases are covered in terms of the big boys like Joel Robuchon's Ebisu chateau or Gordon Ramsey's new place at the Conrad. Following the list of prominent newcomers comes the transcript of a discussion between the writers on each of them, where they're surprisingly candid in picking out flaws. Someone comments on Robuchon's tone-deafness when it comes to matching dishes to seasons, exemplified by his overuse of butter and cream on the lunchtime menu in midsummer: "You wonder if they've got windows in the kitchen." And despite giving Ramsey moderately good scores, they slay the unbalanced space, the behind-the-times emphasis given to the chef's table, and the overpriced winelist, and wonder at why he gets Michelin stars with this kind of stuff. If you're into food, you can while away a decent amount of time just reading through this section.

Having either tried a couple of the book's suggestions or been to them before buying it (Butagumi in Nishi-Azabu and Totoki in Ginza) I look forward to getting round to a few more.

Recommended.