Delights of Kansai (8): Kaiseki lunch at Nakamura (なかむら), Kyoto

All good things must come to an end. Just before flying back this evening, we had our final lunch of the trip at Nakamura, an extremely well-respected traditional Kyoto establishment dating from the Bunka-Bunsei period (1827). Originally specialist fish merchants and purveyors to the imperial court, the family business had evolved into a kaiseki restaurant by the third generation. The foundations of the modern-day ryotei, housed in an ancient Kyoto building known as a 'machi-ya', were laid by the fourth-generation heir, after the demolition of the original restaurant building and a brief disruption to the family business, due to the war.

The current head chef is sixth-generation Motokazu Nakamura 中村元計, who started learning kaiseki cuisine seriously from his father (fifth-generation Bunji Nakamura 中村文治) in 1986 at the age of 24, after graduation from university and a 18-month stint at Kyoto's Tenryuji in preparation for the succession of the family restaurant. Like many historical Japanese establishments, Nakamura takes the isshi-souden 一子相伝 tradition very seriously; all the skills and secrets of their trade must be inherited by the eldest son of each generation and stay only within the immediate family, never to be taught to outsiders (in-laws included). This insistence on a pure culinary bloodline must be a doubled-edged sword in today's world; on one hand, it preserves the authenticity of the original recipes, but on the other, all their eldest sons must sacrifice individual aspirations for the greater good of continuing the family business, which can be a difficult pill to swallow for ambitious young men, I imagine. Nevertheless, Motokazu Nakamura has excelled at his duty throughout these three decades, and under his leadership the family restaurant is today a top 3-starred ryotei. He was also a former director of the Kyoto-based Japanese Culinary Academy.

The main entrance was so nondescript and similar to other old buildings on the street that one would not have expected a top restaurant within. Once past the narrow sliding door, though, a whole new world opened up in front of us; our young kimono-clad waitress for the afternoon, who was already anticipating our arrival, appeared promptly, knelt before us and greeted us with a deep bow and a wide smile. The initial reception was warm and deferential. We were then led through some winding corridors to our incredibly spacious private room, and the largest we've had of all restaurants on this trip - now who'd have guessed that such a large space was possible beyond the tightly-squeezed façade of a machi-ya? And all of this for just the two of us!

Elegant artworks adorn the space, making for a restful and inspiring ambience. I was loving this place already.

A large and distinctive vase in the style of mingei 民芸 (contemporary Japanese folk art) caught my eye. The most prominent exponents of the mingei movement were Kawai Kanjiro 河井寛次郎 and Hamada Shoji 濱田庄司, both of whom had famously refused all official honours during their lifetimes, including the designation of Living National Treasure, and most of their works were deliberately left unsigned. The adorable stylised design of birds on a tree added a fresh whimsical touch to an otherwise very prim and proper environment. I also loved the vase's beautiful deep cobalt glaze. I forgot to ask specifically for its maker's name, but I'm guessing that this vase is pretty valuable, being where it is.

Our room's folding screen contained calligraphy by fifth-generation Bunji Nakamura. Like the chef-owner of Wa Yamamura in Nara, his passion for calligraphy is displayed in various artworks throughout the restaurant. Top kaiseki chefs, more so than in any other fine-dining context, usually have to be well-versed in other art forms as well, in order to curate this unique gastronomic experience. Room displays, tableware and plating are highly seasonal and usually contain some specific cultural reference. Kaiseki is never about being fancy for its own sake. It does take a while to get the deeper implications of this cuisine (I'm still learning myself) but I daresay that this is the most sophisticated and 'complete' food culture that exists today.

煎茶

Sencha to begin. Our server was very friendly and eager to please. She readily admitted to and apologised for her lack of English, but I was keen to practise my Japanese anyway so it all worked out fine. She would be very detailed in answering all my questions about the food, and remained extremely patient when she had to repeat or rephrase something that I didn't understand immediately.

This beautiful jade-green tea was very aromatic, with a rich velvety mouthfeel and deep umami. This could only have been possible with generous amounts of highest-quality sencha leaves steeped in Kyoto's excellent spring water. Sencha overseas just doesn't quite cut it somehow. Also, as opposed to being a typically bland accompanying drink throughout a Japanese meal overseas, here we had just one small opening cup which didn't even last two mouthfuls - but what an impact it made on our tastebuds! Immediately we were perked up and our attention was now entirely focused on the impending feast. In fact, I found this sencha even better than the one we had accompanying our vegetarian banquet at Daitokuji last evening.

食前酒

Sake apéritif - of all the pre-meal sakes I've had on this trip, this was the most balanced and mellow, with very little astringency and lovely sweet floral notes. The only way to fully experience the nuances of such heavenly nectar is to drink it chilled, and on its own! My only regret was forgetting to ask for more details, so that I might buy a bottle or two of this to enjoy back home later.

An elderly lady walked into the room at this point to welcome us by kneeling and bowing deeply by the side of our table. There was of course a ritualistic tea ceremony-like dimension to all of this, but I must admit that the sheer display of deference was a tad embarrassing for me because we were at most half her age!

True to my assumption that she must be a major figure in this restaurant, she turned out to be the mother of the current 6th-generation chef Motokazu Nakamura. She was really warm and grandmotherly, and we were immediately put at ease in her presence despite the rather formal setting. She explained that as her son was away today on business, our meal would be cooked by her husband, i.e. 5th-generation Bunji Nakamura instead. I definitely wasn't going to complain about having an even more experienced master handle our food - what an honour, in fact!

Chopsticks with a colourful stand, and a cover
aptly decorated with a New Year's mizuhiki design.

The first dish arrived soon, and somewhat surprisingly in a teabowl that one usually associates with matcha at the end - not beginning - of a meal. This choice of plating was most likely a reference to kaiseki's origins as small dishes to accompany the tea ceremony, as well as a tribute to the 3rd-generation Nakamura's accomplishments in the area of cha-kaiseki ('tea kaiseki'). No other type of ceramic embodies the austerity of the Japanese tea ceremony better than a plain black Raku teabowl. While the 4th-generation Nakamura had been responsible for the foundations of the modern-day business, his father had been the one to conceptualise and establish, at the turn of the 20th century, all essential aspects of the dishes served even till today. As you will see, that might explain why an elegant simplicity pervades the cooking here.

先附：松葉蟹、長芋、ふぐ白子、韮、千きり揚げポテト、ポン酢

Starter: shredded Matsuba crab, mountain yam strips, fugu shirako, Japanese garlic chives, deep fried shredded potato, ponzu sauce.

We savoured this dish in the watchful company of our elderly hostess. Some people might see this as being somewhat intrusive, but it is actually quite common, especially amongst elderly hostesses, who want to make sure that the meal is off to a good start before leaving customers to enjoy the rest of it - just think of how your own grandmothers might have waited to see your response to the meal that they have just prepared. Anyway, there was no need to worry here; the pleasure that showed on our faces was immediate and genuine.

I was delighted to find out that the creamy substance wasn't just ordinary cod milt, but that of fugu! Its rich musky sweetness was the perfect foil for the equally luxurious and succulent shredded Matsuba crab meat. A touch of ponzu provided balance with its refreshing tartness, while strips of chives and potato contributed further aromas and crunch. Despite the diminutive portion size, this starter packed a real punch with its opulent combination of flavours and textures.

The next dish was served in a Wajima lacquered bowl 輪島塗り featuring snippets of the classic Japanese epic 'The Tales of Genji' 源氏物語. In addition to the exquisite maki-e 蒔絵 (lacquered drawings), the presence of nashiji 梨地 (gold dust background - lit. 'pearskin finish' due to its resemblance to the fruit) was testimony to the particularly high quality and status of this bowl within the restaurant's collection. I could never bear to use such beautiful artworks myself for serving food, but that's what kaiseki is about!

Surprise! A quote from the epic 'The Tales of Genji'
on the underside of the lid.

お椀：祖傳白味噌雑煮、焼き餅、辛子

Tradition in a bowl - this is one of Nakamura's signature dishes, which has remained unchanged since the restaurant was founded. The recipe is said to have originated from the imperial kitchen, to which the Nakamura family had regular access as purveyors of fish in the olden days. Unlike most miso soups which are dashi-based, this white miso soup is prepared purely by combining homemade white miso with underground spring water into a smooth creamy consistency. No other seasonings are used. The only significant addition to this soup was a fragrant, soft and chewy grilled rice cake with a touch of mustard sauce - no garnishes either, compared to the typically more fancy and colourful versions of this soup especially around this time of the year.

This deliberate austerity allowed the sweetness of Kyoto white miso to shine through, and the full-bodied soup was further bolstered by a mild spicy kick from mustard. It was a stark reminder of how the best things in life are sometimes the simplest. To achieve this simplicity requires utmost sensitivity and respect towards the ingredients in question; Motokazu Nakamura has said in an interview that 'it is necessary to ensure the perfect balance of these four ingredients... for example, if the rice cake is not sufficiently charred, the sweetness of white miso will stick out very cloyingly'. He also recalled his father telling him to grill the rice cakes with a 'do-or-die spirit'. This complete dedication of mind and soul to even the simplest of procedures must be what defines the masters.

お造り：ぐじ（木の芽入）、車海老、干ざけ、イカ

Sashimi: red Wakasa tilefish (also known as guji, amadai or sweet sea bream) marinated with shredded kinome (Japanese pricklyash), Japanese imperial prawn, air-dried and cured salmon (according to our waitress, preparations for the salmon start in mid-December so that it is ready in time for the New Year), and squid, served with the usual garnishings of shiso, grated radish and wasabi.

The tilefish was particularly memorable for its firm texture and spicy aroma, while the salmon had a surprisingly mild flavour, very different from the often over-salted Western-style smoked salmon. The vivid but natural-looking orange colour and subtle marbling were also indications of its wild, not farmed, origins - no prizes for guessing which has the better taste and texture. This sashimi course had been beautifully plated within a small star-shaped dish, and the composition seemed very well-balanced despite its compactness.

I didn't miss the deeper symbolisms behind the choices of seafood at this time - salmon not only has an auspicious colour but also signifies success and triumph against adversity (due to its natural tendency to swim upstream); prawn signifies longevity due to its similarity to the bent backs of older people; and finally, sea bream and squid are general metaphors for happiness and celebration.

Next, another soup dish, served in another equally beautiful Wajiima-lacquered bowl. Yet again a feast for the eyes as well as the tastebuds. Some sort of seafood perhaps judging from the design of the lid?

The river continues on the underside...

蓋物：若筍、蛤真蒸（豆腐、長芋）、ワカメ、木の芽

Steamed tofu and nagaimo ball with a filling of hamaguri clam, with young bamboo shoots and wakame seaweed, in a clear dashi broth with kinome garnish.

It is always comforting to have a warm bowl of soup during chilly weather, and this course hit all the right spots. The soft, fluffy, and slightly gooey white ball felt surprisingly substantial on the tummy, and its filling of a single large and succulent hamaguri clam added a further touch of luxury. The clam was extremely fresh, full of umami, and perfectly complemented by the equally deep taste of the soup and seaweed. Generous slices of bamboo shoots, one of my favourite produce as well as a symbol of growth and prosperity over this season, were simply delightful with their crunch and elegant earthy sweetness. To top it all off, the spicy characteristic aroma of kinome, present here in a remarkably ample amount for a garnish, subtly perfumed each bite and kept the whole course in a sophisticated balance till the very last mouthful, such that one felt utterly satisfied, but not the least bloated.

From here, the meal swiftly ascended to its climax. The hassun is the centrepiece of every kaiseki experience, and this one featured an assortment of typical New Year Kyoto delicacies in a fine wooden box. In the spirit of Japanese discretion, part of the contents of the hassun (most likely the best bits) initially came concealed underneath a large yuzuriha 楪 leaf, which is commonly used in Japanese New Year decorations (e.g. shime-kazari) as a symbol of good relationships between the different generations of a family. Ferns beneath the various morsels completed the plating with hopes for progeny and prosperity, due to their numerous small leaves.

八寸：数の子、たたき牛蒡、田作、柿と大根の紅白なます、半アワビ、鯛の竜飛巻、鯛千枚ずし、鴨ロース、青味大根、栗、はじかみ、クワイ

Hassun: (in the bamboo container) pickled herring roe, seared burdock root with sesame, dried anchovies marinated in soy sauce and sugar; (in the other bowl) shredded and lightly pickled persimmon and daikon; (on the bamboo skewer) lightly salt-cured raw bream rolled in vinegared kelp, and half a steamed abalone; (in the foreground) cured raw bream wrapped in thinly-sliced pickled turnip and kelp, roasted duck loin with mustard sauce, green daikon, roasted chestnut, pickled ginger rhizome, arrowhead.

The symbolisms of all these delicacies have already been explained in previous reviews of Kichisen, Dainagon, Wa Yamamura and Daitokuji Ikkyu; I shall leave the interested reader to explore them. For me, four morsels stood out. On the skewer, the steamed abalone was remarkable for its tenderness and juiciness, while the roll of sea bream and kelp possessed a lovely firm bite and a delicate balance of sweet, salty and sour, the result of a sophisticated umami. The succulent and full-bodied slice of duck loin was given a touch of fresh spiciness by the small drop of mustard, while the roasted chestnut was very sweet, with a mild charred earthy edge and a satisfying starchy texture.

Of all the kaiseki hassuns I've had on this trip, Nakamura's was not only the simplest-looking, but also presented with the least pomp. However, this didn't detract one bit from our overall enjoyment of this course. Quite the contrary, I felt that it displayed a very grounded sincerity towards the customer, as well as a quiet confidence in the quality of their own ingredients and preparations. There was no need to impress with further bells and whistles; keeping things simple and to-the-point seems to constitute a large part of Nakamura's kaiseki aesthetic.

The culinary highs continued with the next dish, served in a somewhat whimsical bowl.

揚物：白子トロ揚げ出し

Mashed cod milt lightly battered and deep-fried, and served in a pool of dashi soy broth, with garnishings of grated radish and finely-chopped scallions.

If you like the common Japanese side dish of agedashi tofu, you will absolutely love this - just imagine it being ten times richer in texture and flavour! The smooth creamy texture and intense muskiness that awaited beneath the crisp and delicate outer shell sent me straight to cloud nine. Who could have imagined that with these two humble-looking chunks? The small pool of dashi broth reinforced the luxuriousness of this dish with a deep umami, while the generous garnishings provided an essential touch of freshness and balance.

A short breather then followed in the form of a palate cleanser, served in a most exquisite teacup. We were informed by our waitress that these teacups were in fact amongst Bunji Nakamura's favourite pieces, for their colour and design.

It is actually quite common for food to be served in the best tableware that a kaiseki restaurant possesses, as a welcoming gesture towards their esteemed customers. The value of the tableware used may also vary with the price of the kaiseki chosen. In fact, I'm pretty sure that some of the pieces out of which we ate and drank today (including this teacup) were antiques.

The undersides of both teacup lids were as intricate as the exterior!

口直し：昆布だし茶（梅干入）

Palate cleanser: konbu dashi tea, with a slice of fresh konbu and umeboshi. 

This was both extremely tasty due to the konbu's natural umami, and stimulating due to the mild salty astringency of the pickled plum. A lovely transition which set the stage effectively for the arrival of our next main course.

And here it was, the pièce de résistance of every meal at Nakamura, served in a large earthenware bowl.

焼物：ぐじの酒焼き

Grilled dish (main course): tilefish grilled with sake.

True to the family business' origins as specialist importers of tilefish (guji/amadai) from the ancient province of Wakasa, the other signature dish of Nakamura features a generous portion of guji (seen earlier in the sashimi course), grilled with scales and bones left on so as to fully preserve its natural flavour. Prior to that, the fish is left to marinate in salt overnight, then seasoned with sake. Lovely strong aromas hit us the moment the heavy lid was lifted, and I could hardly wait to dig into this succulent and tasty flesh!

Before leaving us to enjoy the fish, our waitress advised us to leave all remains in the bowl, as there would be a little extra after we finished. Something's brewing in that beautiful cast-iron pot which she placed at my side...

Shortly after we were done with our fish, our waitress returned. True to the Japanese ideal of non-wastage, a clear konbu dashi-based tilefish stock was poured from the iron pot into our bowls, combining with the grilled but inedible parts to result in an even deeper flavour with a subtle charred aroma that left me speechless with awe. As with the seemingly plain white miso soup earlier, I hadn't expected to be this captivated.

I commented to our waitress how this way of eating reminded me of adding grilled fugu fins to sake in other parts of Japan, and she replied that adding soup to fish remains is a very popular regional (Kyoto/Nara) practice. Actually, in my limited experience the Kansai people don't seem to care much for fugu - except maybe for its milt, which is a true delicacy. One definitely sees a lot more tilefish, bream and mackerel all around, including in top restaurants.

Earlier I had asked for a copy of today's menu; imagine my surprise and delight when our waitress brought this in, written by the chef himself (just like in Wa Yamamura a few days ago). What a lovely gesture! Truly no detail was spared in making sure that the service exceeded customers' expectations. I also felt that there was something rather direct and austere about the chef's calligraphy - surely a reflection of his own culinary style.

御飯、香物

Finally, rice and pickles, signifying the impending end of the meal.

Served in another black Raku tea bowl, but in contrast to the one used for the chilled starter, this was deeper and narrower in order to better maintain the warmth of the rice.

Such bowls are also commonly used in tea ceremonies conducted during the winter, to prevent the matcha from getting cold too quickly after whisking.

イクラご飯、海苔ふりかけ、三つ葉、わさび

Rice with ikura (salt-cured salmon roe), a sprinkling of nori furikake (dried seaweed seasoning), mitsuba (wild chervil) and wasabi.

As you might have sensed by now, rice dishes at top restaurants in Japan aren't the least boring or bland. In fact, the rice is often already good enough to stand on its own anyway, so anything else that goes with it makes a real treat. Here, the rice was soft, fluffy and slightly sticky, with a delicate sweetness and aroma that supported the intense umami and smooth buttery texture of the ikura very effectively. The garnishings of mitsuba and wasabi contributed a crisp spiciness and fresh aromas that left the stomach feeling very light at the end, despite the bowl's rich and starchy contents.

水菜、昆布、大根、生姜の漬物

Of course, I shouldn't forget to mention the excellent side dish containing pickled mizuna (Japanese mustard greens), konbu, daikon and ginger. No Japanese rice dish is complete without pickled vegetables or tsukemono, and those produced in Kyoto are particularly highly regarded. Everything in this dish was clean-tasting, refreshing and juicy, but two of them stood out. The finely-diced mizuna (a popular winter vegetable) had a lovely crunch and crisp piquant taste (similar to rocket, but less strong), while the konbu impressed with its remarkably firm bite and powerful umami - one thin square at a time, alternating with mouthfuls of rice, felt just about right; you couldn't eat that all on its own.

水物：文旦、あまおうイチゴ、バニラクリーム、白いワインゼリー

Dessert: pomelo, Amaou strawberry, vanilla cream and white wine jelly.

One might best describe this dessert as a gastronomic take on the common combination of strawberries and cream. This was a refreshing way to finish, in more ways than one, in the context of all the extremely traditional courses that had gone beforehand. The core of this dessert was of course still very Japanese (ending a kaiseki with high-quality Japanese fruit) but the uniqueness and effectiveness of the foreign touches in the accompaniments could not be discounted either. Both fruits were very fresh and juicy, and possessed just the right balance of sweetness and tanginess. The white wine jelly, loosely draped over the fruits, complemented the overall lightness with its soft fragile texture, subtle aroma and delicate tannic edge. Bringing all these components into perfect harmony was a delightful base of vanilla cream (with real crushed vanilla pods), which contributed an apt weight to this dessert with its warm rounded sweetness and rich velvety texture.

This is what we got when we were ready to leave and asked for the bill. Having the total amount written in kanji was a first for us - how much more traditional does a ryotei get? (In case you're wondering, today's lunch cost 49,600 yen, including tax and service - not an unreasonable amount to ask in establishments of this level, in major Japanese cities.)

The following picture is of the elegant little courtyard which our room was facing. At this point, our elderly hostess returned to ask us how it had all been, to thank us for our visit and to bid us goodbye - again with all her warm grandmotherly demeanour, deep bowing, and genuine respectfulness and gratitude that are the hallmarks of Japanese omotenashi at the highest level.

Admiring the artworks along the corridors, on our way out:

This set-up in the main entrance hallway caught my eye - a free-style calligraphic representation of isshi-souden 一子相伝 with typical Japanese New Year decorations, such as a shime-kazari hung above the scroll, and a large kagami-mochi sitting on a sturdy wooden offering base beneath the scroll, with a daidai orange perched atop it. This orange symbolises the continuity of a family's bloodline, which must be particularly significant for the Nakamura family, if their ryotei's survival through the generations is to be ensured.

五代目中村文治大将さん、女将さん
5th-generation Bunji Nakamura and his wife

The 5th-generation Nakamura and our lovely elderly hostess were waiting for us by the front door to see us out, and just as I expected, they wouldn't go back in until we'd turned the corner at the end of the street.

I felt that of all the great restaurants we visited this time in the Kansai region, Nakamura was the only one who really ticked all the boxes in terms of food, service, presentation and ambience. But to reduce this lunch to a set of criteria would be to diminish the complete cultural experience that it had been.

There was also that unmistakable pride in the family's culinary history, and sense of tradition as manifested in the living members' insistence on their forefathers' time-honoured recipes, despite various fancy developments in gastronomy these days. I'm so glad that we had our last fine meal in Japan here, and I'm absolutely certain that we'll be back in the near future.

Delights of Kansai (7): Shojin-ryori at Daitokuji Ikkyu (大徳寺一久), Kyoto

Back in Kyoto, and dinner this evening was at Daitokuji Ikkyu, conveniently located on a side street opposite the main entrance to the famous temple complex of the same name. Their shojin-ryori 精進料理 (Japanese Buddhist vegetarian cuisine) is my favourite in Kyoto, and I always make it a point to come here whenever I'm back in the city. Tonight's visit was actually my third; the last one had been way back in the summer of 2011 (before I left for London and started this blog), and I had really missed the food here.

This ancient cuisine's roots lie in the Buddhist temples of China and was brought into Japan by returning Zen monks who had been studying there. Within Japan, shojin-ryori is especially popular in Kyoto, with its multitude of ancient temples and their associated restaurants both on- and off-site. Nowadays however, the food is not actually cooked by monks, but by members of the local community (though it still has to adhere to strict Buddhist precepts).

Daitokuji Ikkyu has been feeding the monks at the Daitokuji temple complex for at least 500 years, and is the oldest existing shojin-ryori restaurant in Kyoto. It is also one of the few which does an early dinner service (most shojin places are lunch-only); do note though that last orders here are at 6 pm. Yoshiaki Tsuda is the current head chef, assisted by his son-in-law (and successor) in the kitchen, while his warm and friendly daughter sees to her guests' every need with typically meticulous Japanese hospitality. Despite its formal and solemn setting, Ikkyu really does provide one of the homeliest services within this city's fine restaurants, regardless of one's Japanese proficiency (I hadn't picked up the language the first two times I visited). The daughter is also the person who picks up the phone when customers call to make reservations, and her high-pitched, enthusiastic voice coupled with a melodious Kyoto accent will put you at ease right away (she does speak very basic English, in case you were wondering). I always look forward to returning here, and now that I was actually able to communicate with our hostess meaningfully in her native tongue, I had one more reason to love the place!

I could hardly wait!

Our lovely hostess had been expecting us for our 5.30 pm reservation, and the moment I slid open the main door and called out gently to announce our arrival, she promptly appeared and led us through some corridors to our private room at the back of the restaurant. The initial reception was every bit as warm as I had remembered it from my last visit, perhaps made even better now by the fact that I was able to speak her language.

The tables were arranged facing a bare wall instead of the rock garden outside, in line with Zen Buddhism's emphasis on mindfulness and reflection. The unusually high seats were also put side-by-side and not facing each other, presumably to help us focus squarely on the cuisine, and also to replicate (somewhat more comfortably) the traditional custom of eating this food whilst kneeling.

This simple little alcove facing us, with New Year calligraphy and ikebana, was all that adorned our tatami room. The deliberate austerity in the whole set-up was hardly restrictive or intimidating; quite the contrary, we felt an inexplicable restfulness almost immediately upon entering the room, and very quickly settled into a calm, almost meditative state of mind, apt for savouring the vegetarian feast that awaited us.

All the private rooms offer a view out to the beautiful central rock garden; in warmer seasons one may leave the sliding doors open while eating, though in this weather it was probably more appropriate to keep them fully closed, and the heater switched on. We could still peek through small glass panels inserted into the doors.

Actually I am by no means a vegetarian - I love my fish and seafood too much - but the extremely high quality of Kyoto produce (there's even an umbrella term for it, 'kyo-yasai' 京野菜) means that even the simplest vegetables, fruits and tofu may be transformed into dishes fit for the gods (quite literally!). Back home in Singapore, vegetarian cuisine is often extremely greasy (because anything drowned in oil is bound to be tasty) and relies heavily on artificially flavoured gluten to replicate the texture, flavour and form of various meats and fishes (which, obviously, defeats the whole purpose of going vegetarian in the first place); you understand now why I am generally not a fan. However, in authentic shojin-ryori, there is none of that nonsense - the emphasis in this cuisine is on simple preparations that highlight every ingredient's quality, wholesomeness and natural taste. This purist adherence to the spirit of vegetarian cuisine appeals to me much more, and for actual vegetarians and vegans, Kyoto must be sheer heaven!

At Daitokuji Ikkyu, three multi-course banquets are available, from 8,320 to 14,260 yen per person (inclusive of tax and service). A cheaper bento-style lunch is also available for 4,160 yen (all inclusive) up to 3 pm. Yes, shojin-ryori does not come cheap - it's not just about the best produce, but also about the skills required to prepare the deceptively simple dishes that will maximise their flavour and texture. Full banquets are usually reserved for high-ranking priests at important ceremonial occasions, in which case the restaurant closes to the public for the day. This evening, I'd decided to go all out for the one-off vegetarian meal, and what follows is a review of the 14,260 yen feast.

We started with a nice cup of sencha and a warm towel to recover from the external chill.

煎茶

There was a lovely umami and smoothness in every mouthful of this sencha, a testimony to its high quality. In fact, the first time I came here I had mistaken this velvety pale green tea for gyokuro 玉露 (the highest quality Japanese green tea made from shaded young shoots); it was that good, and still hasn't changed after all these years. Sencha might be the most commonly seen and consumed type of green tea both in Japan and overseas, but as might be expected from a top shojin-ryori restaurant, this was certainly no generic drink.

The vegetarian banquet then began proper, served in plain red lacquerware, in accordance with shojin-ryori tradition. In Japanese culture, the colour red is also believed to be a talisman against evil spirits. The prohibition of meat, dairy, eggs and pungent plants that are considered unnecessarily stimulating to the senses (leek, garlic, onion, shallot etc.) had in no way detracted from the sheer diversity of colours, flavours and textures that was offered to us. As it is currently the New Year period, certain dishes also contained important symbolisms. (They will be described and reviewed individually below.)

大徳寺犠牲豆腐、大徳寺麩、カブラ紅白巻（わさび入）、金柑甘煮、クワイ

'Sacrificial tofu' with a sprinkling of crushed white sesame, fresh gluten simmered in soy sauce, pickled turnip rolls with wasabi, sweet simmered kumquat, and boiled arrowhead shoot: the kumquat was particularly memorable for its juiciness and perfect balance between the sweet and tangy; we both agreed that that was the best component of the dish. Kumquat is called 'kinkan' 金柑 in Japanese, which also happens to be the pronunciation for the characters 'golden crown' 金冠 - thereby symbolising wealth and prosperity in the new year.

The rest were also very good; the tofu had a rich and silky smooth mouthfeel, and its delicate flavour was aptly enhanced by the nutty and aromatic white sesame. The fresh gluten was soft, chewy and moist, and simmering in soy sauce gave this otherwise bland ingredient a lovely deep umami. Ikkyu presents it as round slices peppered with small distinctive holes, resembling the form of sliced lotus root, which symbolises clarity in one's future, due to its numerous 'lookout' holes. Two more morsels closely associated with Japanese New Year cuisine: the arrowhead bulb produces a large sprout, and this is a symbol of growth and development. The starchy bulb was cut into the shape of a pine cone, which is significant as the evergreen pine tree is the symbol of majesty and resilience in Japanese culture. Finally, pickled turnip rolls were presented in auspicious pink and white, a common New Year colour scheme. The bits of authentic grated wasabi in each roll also provided an elegant spiciness that effectively stimulated the tastebuds and cleansed the palate in anticipation of the following dishes.

菜の花の辛子和え

This Japanese version of salad consisted of rape blossoms (similar to broccoli) blanched and tossed with a soy-based mustard dressing. The rape blossoms ('nanohana' in Japanese) had a pleasant tender and juicy bite. Its delicate sweet taste was well enhanced by combining with the creamy dressing, which not only enriched the overall texture but also delivered a warm spicy kick. Underlying each mouthful was a lingering aftertaste of soymilk, which both tempered the spiciness of the mustard and complemented the mild taste of the vegetable. The balance of flavours and textures in this seemingly nondescript mash was actually quite remarkable.

零余子ご飯

Rice steamed with mukago: Mukago are mountain yam bulbils that are readily available in the wild during autumn, and keep well throughout the winter. They might be considered baby mountain yams, and possess a similar texture. This was an interesting first experience with this ingredient, which many Japanese have in fact not tried or simply taken for granted. The soft, sticky and chewy rice was the perfect foil for the little crunchy, starchy and slightly gooey balls that had been generously scattered around. Each mouthful contained a delightful multitude of textures. In terms of flavour, the delicate fragrance of the rice complemented the equally mild earthy sweetness of the mukago very well.

Fortunately, this small initial dollop wasn't all that we were allowed to have; together with our first trays came a full container of this rice, for us to continue helping ourselves throughout the evening. We did finish almost all the rice eventually - not bad considering that the whole dinner comprised 14 courses!

お雑煮：西京白味噌汁、焼き豆腐、辛子ソース、大根、里芋

Thick saikyou white miso soup with grilled tofu, mustard sauce, daikon and taro: this was the vegetarian version of the traditional Japanese New Year soup known as 'ozouni', with grilled tofu substituting for the grilled mochi that usually appears in the centre. This warm soup had a really smooth and luxurious texture (look at that creamy glistening surface!) with a deep and sweet umami characteristic of saikyou miso, and it was also filled with lots of comforting ingredients - perfect for chilly winters. The tofu's flavour had been intensified by grilling, and it had a pleasant charred edge reinforced by the spicy mustard. The daikon was extremely sweet, soft and juicy, while the taro was rich and starchy. We couldn't have finished our first trays of food on a more satisfying note.

堀川牛蒡、大徳寺筏牛蒡、生湯葉、梅麸

From this point on, the dishes arrived one by one, and the next consisted of simmered Horikawa burdock, normal burdock root battered and deep-fried, and fresh layered yuba rolls, with a piece of fresh gluten in the form of a plum blossom.

The yuba (tofu skin) was remarkable for its tender and slightly chewy texture, pure milky white colour and rich taste - a testimony to its freshness and high quality. Usually, a batch of soy milk will yield about seven or eight layers of yuba. The first four or five are the best quality and are sold fresh in wrinkled sheets like the ones served to us here. They don't keep very well nor travel long distances due to the absence of preservatives, so you're likely to have genuine fresh yuba only in Kyoto. The small piece of fresh gluten, in a different form from the earlier piece and with no flavouring, was soft, smooth and chewy; it was probably put there more for aesthetic reasons and possibly as an anticipation of the upcoming plum blossom season.

Unusually, two varieties of burdock were also featured in this dish. The large dark brown piece was from Horikawa burdock, a special Kyoto cultivar that is much longer and thicker than a normal burdock. One Horikawa burdock weighs about 1 kg and it usually takes a whole year to grow this big. Therefore, it is relatively rare and considered a high-grade root vegetable. The combination of its natural earthy herbal sweetness, and a deep umami from simmering in a soy-based broth, resulted in a wonderfully full-bodied flavour. Its texture was also quite soft, but substantial and rather starchy. Two other strips of normal burdock root, lightly battered, stuck together in a parallel arrangement in the form of a bamboo raft, and deep-fried (a unique preparation of this restaurant) had a milder taste and a pleasant crunchy bite.

けんちん巻、筍、鶯菜、人参、柚子

Following this was another soup dish featuring a representative item of shojin-ryori cuisine, the dumpling-like kenchin-maki, which is mashed and seasoned tofu with bits of carrot, kelp etc., wrapped in a wrinkly layer of fried yuba (very similar to spongy 'tau pok' in the Singaporean context). This large yuba wrap was surprisingly substantial and jam-packed with soft and moist contents, and the outer layer of fried yuba, though rather soggy from soaking in the soup, did intensify the overall flavour of the dumpling quite effectively. It was accompanied by sweet and crunchy slices of young bamboo shoots, baby turnip shoots, carrot, and aromatic yuzu rind in a clear vegetarian dashi broth. The New Year colours of red, green and yellow were apparent. I was particularly impressed by how deep the umami of this soup was, despite not using dried bonito flakes, an integral component in the process of making normal dashi stock. How did something which looked as clear as water, and was made from only seaweed, develop such a complex flavour? Light, wholesome and satisfying - simply delightful.

蕪蒸し、椎茸、百合根、銀杏、生麩、荒毛木耳、柚子

Next, vegetarian chawanmushi: steamed grated turnip with shiitake mushrooms, lily bulbs, gingko nuts, fresh gluten, black fungus and a touch of yuzu.

We could not have expected the sheer variety of luxurious produce beneath that unassuming cloud-like layer of steamed turnip. That top layer had a texture so soft, airy and cottony that it felt almost unreal. The aroma of yuzu only served to heighten our expectations of what lay below. This small teacup was chock-full with a surprising amount of healthy ingredients, bound together with a thick and starchy turnip-based sauce. It was all very fresh, sweet and earthy, with a great bite in every mouthful. I would take this over the usual egg chawanmushi any day!

胡麻豆腐

Another staple of shojin-ryori followed; this was chilled sesame 'tofu', made in fact from a mixture of arrowroot (kuzu) starch powder, ground sesame seeds and water, boiled to a thick custard-like consistency (kuzu starch is a natural gluten-free thickening agent), allowed to set, then chilled and cut into blocks like this. Despite its convincing appearance, it contains no traces of soybeans. Making it from scratch is actually very laborious; kuzu powder is difficult to process from the roots (though nowadays, pre-packed powder is readily available), and the sesame has to be ground for a very long time in order for it to become a totally smooth paste, and for its aroma to be fully unleashed into the mixture. Traditionally, the job of grinding the sesame would have been assigned to low-level novice monks - the hard work was considered good for their character. The 'tofu' here had a very firm, rich, smooth and somewhat gelatinous texture, and the nutty flavour of sesame was perfect with a touch of soy sauce and wasabi (which is how the Japanese usually enjoy this cold dish). This course served as a simple and effective refresher for the tastebuds, coming aptly after all the sumptuous preceding dishes.

酢物：菊花、三つ葉、キノコ、とんぶり、黒胡麻

Now it was time for the real palate cleanser; this was a vinegared mixture of chrysanthemum flowers, wild chervil, mushrooms and kochia seeds, with a sprinkling of black sesame. Kochia seeds (known as 'tonburi' in Japanese) are a popular garnish in Japan due to its medicinal properties, and they have an appearance and gelatinous texture similar to caviar. For me, it was an interesting first experience with this ingredient that provided a nice crunchy plop in each mouthful. On the whole, this dish was very crisp and acidic - somewhat of an acquired taste I must admit - with the mushroom slices providing a more substantial chewy bite and a deeper earthier aftertaste. The black sesame also contributed a delicate nutty aroma that helped to temper the sharp smell of vinegar.

刻み生姜、リンゴ、梅干の出汁

Back to a warm course - a small bowl containing a clear soup of shredded ginger, apple and preserved plum was served. This combination was highly unusual but effective, with a sophisticated balance between the sweet, salty, tangy and spicy. The soup's austere appearance belied a remarkable complexity that couldn't be adequately expressed in words, and I had certainly never tasted anything like it. I was also very impressed by the knifework involved in shredding the ginger to this hair-like fineness. Every detail matters. This soup certainly made an impression, and it was a lovely transition from the two chilled refreshers into the final part of this evening's banquet.

揚げ昆布、香茸、空豆

The final part of the meal started with a somewhat sombre-looking dish of deep-fried kelp, koutake (a kind of aromatic mushroom native to Japan) and fava beans. I didn't expect that these ingredients would/could be prepared in this manner, but their intensified flavours resulting from deep-frying and diverse textures were an absolute joy to behold in the palate. The kelp was particularly memorable for its feather-light crispness, just like a rice cracker, despite its thickness - how does one do that, knowing how firm and leathery dried kelp is?!

漬物：白瓜の奈良漬け、大根、白菜

To accompany our last few mouthfuls of rice, we had pickled melon cucumber (Nara-style with sake lees), daikon and Chinese cabbage. No Japanese meal (vegetarian or not) is complete without pickled vegetables. We had some excellent pieces right here, very juicy, crunchy, and only mildly astringent, allowing the natural flavour of each vegetable to still come through. The dark brown Nara-style cucumber stood out for its refreshing bittersweetness and elegant aroma, no doubt the result of its pickling method.

静岡産マスクメロン

Dessert was a generous slice of Shizuoka musk melon. These melons are famous the world over for their aroma, sweetness and juiciness, and regularly retail for upwards of 10,000 yen per melon at posh supermarkets in major Japanese cities. This slice truly lived up to the melon's reputation. Our hostess shared with us that her family doesn't actually get to enjoy any of these melons as they are very expensive and meant for customers only. Also, these melons are painstakingly chosen each morning from their supplier, such that they are at the optimum degree of ripeness at the point of serving, and only just enough will be bought for the day's reservations. They don't buy advance stocks, because the excess fruit either starts to dry up and lose flavour (if insufficiently ripe), or its flesh starts to rot and become mushy (if over-ripe), when kept overnight - then it would become a waste as no one would be able to enjoy them fully. I found this exactitude and desire to provide only the best all the way very admirable indeed.

As one might expect dining within a Japanese temple context, we would end this meal with whisked matcha and traditional Japanese sweets, but before that, we had a transitional cup of burnt rice tea with a touch of salt, to facilitate digestion, cleanse our palates and set up the tastebuds appropriately. This tea was served in beautiful porcelain with an auspicious phoenix design, which aptly symbolises renewal and a fresh start in the new year, due to this mythical creature rising from the ashes. The tea itself had a pleasant toasty aroma that perfumed the mouth with each sip, and a delicate savouriness that heightened one's anticipation of the final matcha and sweets.

抹茶と自家製お菓子

Matcha and homemade seasonal sweets

干し柿（柚子あんこ入）、大徳寺納豆

On each of our plates was a slice of dried persimmon with a filling of yuzu-infused bean paste, and Ikkyu's trademark dried natto (fermented bean - a well-known health food, but an acquired taste, even for some Japanese). I have never quite been a fan of natto myself - the taste and smell are too pungent for my liking - and this black pellet had an even more concentrated flavour due to drying; just one was enough. However, its saltiness went extremely well with the sweetness of the stuffed persimmon, and its pungence was effectively tempered by the fresh aroma of yuzu from the bean paste. No prizes for guessing I preferred the stuffed persimmon, a winter delicacy with a rich date-like texture. Its elegant bean paste filling was very smooth and creamy, and left the palate feeling remarkably crisp amidst all the other heavier textures and flavours.

Frothy whisked matcha is customarily drunk after finishing the dish of sweets, as the lingering aftertaste of the latter effectively neutralises the bitterness and astringency of the former. It was no different here, and only a little matcha (3 small mouthfuls to be exact) was needed to end this feast on a very clean note, without any unpleasant puckering traces. My teabowl was a lovely example of kyo-yaki 京焼, in which vibrant designs of flowers and fruits are usually hand-painted on a bare glazed ceramic surface. (It is common practice for the guest to admire the form and design of a teabowl, after the matcha has been finished.)

My partner's matcha was served in a black ceramic bowl, known as kuroraku 黒楽. Such unadorned bowls, with irregularities in form that occur naturally from the processes of moulding and firing the clay, are considered the perfect expression of Zen ideals within the Japanese tea ceremony. The potter's individuality is palpable in this particular style of ceramics that prizes the unpredictability of the human touch and nature's processes, above an intentionally polished refinement.

Before leaving, we got to revisit the front of the building, which is where the main retail section is situated. It doesn't get more traditional and rustic than this, and a delightful calming aroma of incense permeated the space, befitting its temple connection.

All of Ikkyu's signature items available for take-away,
written on wooden panels, with a water feature below.

For the first time since I started coming here, we also got to greet Ikkyu's chefs, and a family photo was surely in order!

The lovely people behind this evening's feast (right to left):
Yoshiaki Tsuda 津田義明, his daughter, and son-in-law.

I actually had a little gift for our hostess: a photo of her which I had taken during my second visit in 2011. In return, we both received a nice wrapping cloth (furoshiki) each, which was a really lovely and unexpected gesture. The family seemed genuinely pleased that we were returning customers, and that we have always enjoyed their food so much. And of course, with typical Japanese hospitality the young couple just had to see us all the way out, going back into the building to close up only when they were certain that we had turned the corner into the main street. (We were the last customers to leave as we had had the most elaborate menu.)

Apparently, as I was told by our hostess, one of very few
pictures they've had together as husband-and-wife -
I'll have to give this to them the next time I return!

Update: passing by the restaurant again while sightseeing the next morning.

Throughout this evening, our hostess was very warm and chatty, and our conversation was peppered with occasional moments of humour. The whole experience was absolutely relaxed, therapeutic even, and I do really look forward to reliving this feel-good moment, hopefully in the near future. The service was extremely intimate by fine-dining standards - might even be too close for the folks who are used to a more distanced professionalism - but I didn't mind it at all! For me, and for now, Daitokuji Ikkyu still serves the best vegetarian food money can buy, coupled with truly incredible omotenashi; I can't recommend this gem of a restaurant highly enough.