TOKYO — In a culinary landscape defined by a tradition as deep-rooted as Japan’s, Chef Shintaro Esaki boldly chooses to plant his own roots, but in a slightly different way.
“I’m about creativity not innovation,” said the Tokyo-based three-Michelin star chef, for whom the latter simply means making improvements.
In a country torn between the revered and reserved, and the need to push the boundaries of innovative consumerism, Esaki is seemingly able to embrace both: There’s a distinct respect for convention but also a propensity for dining outside the box.
And, as I recently found out after a rare opportunity to Esaki, it took him two decades to get it right — with help from some exquisite vegetables.
VEGGIE HEAVEN
The key to Japanese gastronomy is the freshness of the produce. So while it might seem odd, it’s also perhaps only fair to define the quiet Esaki by way of his, well, preferred vegetable supplier — a couple in their 40s, both former IT professionals.
Esaki explained this meeting of minds (which began when he first received their samples in the mail) on our two-hour drive west of Tokyo to the rural respite of the Yamanashi prefecture, where the veggies were grown.
Nestled on cooler elevated plains, the certified organic operation was made up of seven plots, dedicated to growing up to 150 different vegetables. Some of the first crops, like indigenous carrots and radish, are grown using ancient seeds, rare specimens genetically unmodified since the Edo period some 400 years ago.
It was time for a vegetarian lunch with the chef and his farmers at Kitchen Ohana, located a hop away from the granges.
There’s a provincial charm in sampling budding radishes, or freshly picked wasabi leaves and edible flowers, mindful of their crisp flavours as we stalked the morning mist gently embracing the nearby Madara peaks.
Laid out on a large plate with the meticulousness one would expect from almost any Japanese meal were inspired little ensembles, from a mini arrangement of bamboo and nanohana (a type of local broccoli) seasoned with a simple but luscious miso dressing; to a meat-free croquette lifted by the use of a little sake; and a classic steamed dumpling filled with a variety of herbs gathered from as far as the kitchen staff could stretch their legs.
Mind you, these one-plate lunches were not the inspired bento meals I was expecting, but a clearly western proposition, presented on a simple white plate — a degustation lunch platter, if you like.
Perhaps Esaki had a bigger hand it this meal than I was led to think.
So how does one explain his youthful approach to creating new experiences in Japanese fine dining?
“I’m 51 but my mind is 25,” Esaki quipped, with a humour that also underscored how equally humble in demeanour and decorum he remains despite his distinguished standing.
To say he is without airs would be a serious understatement. Insisting that his place is not in “public relations”, Esaki is not the kind of celebrity top chef you imagine him to be. He has no more than two assistants (because he has no need for more). He’s the award-winning head honcho who hangs up the noren (split curtains) and peels edamame beans because they need to be done.
The uninitiated might even be as surprised to learn that in Japanese culture, the head chef is always working; respect is important but it is constantly being earned.
We also gathered other insights from Chef Moon Kyung Soo of Mikuni’s fabled kitchen, who was also with us on this trip.
“Japanese cuisine celebrates purity of flavours,” he helped clarify, highlighting that even with his non-traditional purees and sauces, Esaki still manages to achieve this.
VERY JAPANESE
A few days earlier, we had eaten at Esaki’s namesake Tokyo restaurant where Moon was amazed to find that the eight-course dinner we had enjoyed at one of Tokyo’s most sought-after tables cost only 15,000 yen (S$200) a person.
Affordability aside, I learnt that the chef’s cooking methods help keep his style within the bounds of Japanese cuisine. They are still very Japanese, Moon averred, as we tried to add up an amazingly refreshing dish of uni (sea urchin) topped with a light but piquantly pleasant cauliflower sauce for our first course.
“The French would have boiled the cauliflower in salt water. He uses fish (katsuobushi) broth, and then blends it to make a puree,” he said.
We agreed that Esaki’s open-minded approach does take advantage of Western ingredients, be it in-season asparagus or top notch kataifi pastry, choosing to procure the latter directly from France.
That said, Esaki has rules that keep his cuisine ethnically authentic. The raw uni we had were discernibly fresh, firm like custard, and not squelchy like slightly older examples (by just a few days) can be. The cauliflower sauce had a savoury sweetness to it, and I was glad to find out that no cream was added. Moon explained that Esaki wanted to keep the focus of the cauliflower’s taste and texture. “If he was a French chef, he might have added butter or cream.”
Aside from the sashimi course of kampachi (back and belly), dishes that followed reiterated Esaki’s ingenious elegance. Another sweetly savoury onion potage calmed the palate, just in time for valiant 50:50 alliance of seafood and vegetables. Dressed in black olive sauce was a feature of steamed cuttlefish with sawara (Spanish mackerel) and a tempura of snowfish, balanced against a kado of grilled carrots, asparagus, peas and spinach, lightly swathed in an edamame dressing. (These I felt gave much needed attention to the often-underappreciated components of a balanced meal.)
Like the ise ebi (Japanese spiny lobster) in a light “American sauce”-inspired condiment (which doesn’t use any cream or butter), as well as a whole kinki (rockfish) that was served with a sweet soy and sake sauce, the cuisine’s flavours repeatedly highlight a naturally sweet edge, which I found typically Japanese.
Everything else was typically Esaki.
BEAUTIFUL CONTRADICTIONS
Portions were just as unexpectedly large. Compared to individual courses in a traditional kaiseki meal, the generous servings here are large enough to be served as a la carte dishes. They also leave the diner palpably satiated.
That said, I felt that one of the main reasons Esaki is able to maintain his three-star rating is his ability to surprise even the well-travelled diner. And then there is this believable affection for cooking well — an emotional aspect, said Moon, that some top chefs are lack.
From the freshness of locally sourced organic produce to ethically harvested seafood, Esaki’s unwavering commitment to healthful dining seems to be the link between his progressive approach and what’s still considered Japanese cuisine.
But is creativity more important than preserving tradition?
“I’ve been asking myself the same … and questioning the direction to take,” Esaki conceded. “It’s a continuous process. Maybe I’ll know when I’m 80.”
That’s relatively a long way off, and enough time for his style to grow more focused and clear — even as his spotlight on produce will likely grow larger.
In fact, Esaki planning to open a restaurant in the countryside in the near future, and maybe even move out of the city completely.
And with that, the three-Michelin star chef came clean: “I’ve always wanted to be a farmer.”
***
Mikuni (Fairmont Singapore) will host Chef Patron Shintaro Esaki from July 1 to 6. Esaki’s nourishing, contemporary takes on the traditional kaiseki meal can be had as both a five-course kaiseki lunch menu (S$110 per person from July 2 to 6), and a seven-course dinner menu (S$250 per person from July 1 to 5). Call 431 6156 for reservations.
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