"Hidden gem" are probably two of the most overused words in the foodophile vocabulary. 

So it was really refreshing to find a restaurant that literally was just that: Hidden and a Gem.

Let me explain...

We were lucky to get prime seats at the counter. The patron plopped the pancake onto the sizzling teppan hot plate in front of us and then proceeded to cook it on both sides, flipping it with an iron spatula which is also the eating instrument of choice for this plump pancake.

As instructed "no slicing". The owner deftly demonstrated the best way to attack the okonomiyaki - quick firm jabs with the sharp edge of the spatula to cut the pancake into wedges before scooping it up with the flat side and shoveling it straight into our mouths - perfect!

The okonomiyaki is usually filled with shredded cabbage, dashi, spring onion, shrimp, squid, bacon-like fatty pork belly, thin strips of beef - as the name says, whatever you like - and once done is covered with thick, sweet otafuku sauce, aonori (seaweed flakes), katsuobushi (bonito flakes) and Japanese mayonnaise. Where has this pancake been all my life? It is one of the most delicious things I have ever tasted.

Japanese knives are widely regarded to be among the best money can buy. With a long and proud tradition of metal working, knife smiths are seen as artists who take time and effort over their creations.

Most of the best knife makers in Japan trace their heritage back to samurai sword makers. With the fall of the shogunate in the late 19th century and the restoration of the Japanese empire, many samurais lost some of their privileges, which included carrying swords. As demand for swords fell, many master sword makers re-purposed their skills to the more domestic task of making knives.

Knife making in Japan is primarily made up of three steps - forging (hizukuri), when the metal is heated and hammered into shape, honing (hazuke or togi), when the blade gets sharpened on increasingly finer whetstones, and  the hafting (ezuke), when the blade is attached to a haft, or a handle. Most knives are then marked with their maker's seal and can be engraved with the names and initials of the person buying them, making them real family heirlooms.

And this is exactly what I wanted - an engraved Japanese chef's knife! As I was heading to Kyoto, there was really just one place to go - Aritsugu Fujiwara. The family has been making knives for 18 generations, passing on  the forging techniques preferred by the Imperial family since 1560.

The Aritsugu shop is located in Kyoto's famous Nishiki market - a must visit for anyone keen on discovering the joys of a Japanese food market. Walking through Nishiki market on New Year's Eve as the city shopped for one of its biggest festivals was definitely an experience! But I was on a mission and a few thousand Kyotoites finishing their last-minute festive shop didn't scare me!

The knives can also cut a pretty deep hole in your pocket so anyone who plans on getting an entire set better take along a great big wad of yen. I decided to follow Anthony Bourdain's maxim of "all anyone really needs is a good chef's knife" and focused on getting one that I liked.

Another factor to remember is that most Japanese tend to buy carbon steel knives - which are incredibly strong and sharp but also require a great deal of daily care, cleaning and regular sharpening to avoid rust. The other option (which is also slightly kinder on the wallet) is to buy a knife with a carbon steel core and a stainless steel coating with just the carbon blade edge exposed, and this is what seemed like the most practical option for me.

It has been a long, long time since I have visited a country that made me want to hop straight back onto a plane the very second I left it.

It may be due to the palpable foreignness of the place, the mind-boggling variety of strange food, customs and landscapes, the impenetrable language… whatever it was, Japan has got me hooked and I can’t wait to head back!

Just a week in the country has left me with so much I’d like to share that I’m sure my Platetrotter posts are going to be pretty one-tracked for the next few weeks.

And high on that list of memorable experiences would have to be my much anticipated introduction to matcha tea.

I have to confess that I have never tasted matcha tea prior to visiting Japan. Having heard mixed reviews about it, I had clung onto the idea that I would save that first taste of matcha for the land of its origin.

Nowhere seemed like a more appropriate place in Japan to try this strange tea than Kyoto, the beautiful old capital of Japan and the cultural heart and soul of the country. And when I came across a great little blog about Japanese tea and all its associated customs and quirks, I knew the lady who wrote it – Atsuko Mori – was the one to introduce me to matcha.

Atsuko runs authentic Japanese tea ceremony sessions at Camellia, a 100-year geisha house in Gion – touted to be among the most beautiful spots to enjoy this essential Japanese experience.

Just the walk to the tea room was enough to set the mood for a relaxing encounter. The path we took wound its way through serene temple grounds – all green gardens and grey, glistening roofs – and as it was the last day of the year, the grounds were filled with people giving thanks for the year that was and praying for success and happiness in the year to come.

The old geisha district of Gion is one of the city’s most atmospheric places to wander around and is probably best to see both early in the morning, as the bright dawn glow hits the traditional wooden matchiya houses, and in the evening when the lanterns come on and make you feel you are walking back in time.

The tea ceremony itself is hosted by Atsuko in a bright little room, with traditional tatami mat flooring. After introducing the idea of chanoyu – or the tea ceremony – Atsuko proceeded to demonstrate the graceful sequence of movements that go into creating a perfect cup of Japanese tea.

This included purification of the vessels, heating of the bowls, scooping out the matcha tea using a tiny bamboo spoon and then whisking the tea into a light and frothy cup using a bamboo whisk.  The tea ceremony is taught in special schools and takes years to practice and perfect. Atsuko said she has been practicing it for more than 20 years.

The tea itself is made from young delicate green tea buds, that have often been left in the shade or covered to stimulate extra chlorophyll production (responsible for matcha tea’s distinctive bright green hue). The plucked tea leaves are dried flat, de-veined and de-stemmed before being milled to a super fine talc-like consistency. The tea we drank tasted very “green” – like drinking the scent of a forest or woods with a dry sweetish flavor profile unlike any tea I had drunk before. 

The kakemono (traditional scroll hanging) and complementary ikebana arrangement which is meant to set the mood of the ceremony also paid tribute to the new year in the form of a rising sun on the scroll (January 1st is a huge festival in Japan, with many people staying up all night to watch the first sunrise of the year and then celebrating each time they do something for the “first” time in the following year).

The ikebana arrangement included Japan Pine (a celebratory form of greenery and the most important of the Japanese trio of plants used to symbolize happiness and celebrations – Sho Chiku Bai, which includes Sho (Pine) Chiku (Bamboo) and Bai (Plum).

The tea ceremony is often accompanied by quirky Japanese sweets, all of which have their own associated traditions and stories. For example, Japanese sweets are often only served in odd numbers – especially to couples – so that they are not easy to divide and have to be shared.

As the source that led me to this beautiful little tea room, Atsuko’s blog is a great resource on Japanese tea customs and traditions – everything from sweets to furniture to sacred waters used in the preparation of the tea ceremony – making for some fascinating little nuggets on this must-try Japanese experience. Definitely worth a read!


Related posts:

I ate my first Platetrotter present today and (mainly for my sake) I'm glad it tasted a lot better than it sounded.

It was a wasabi Kit Kat all the way from Japan, courtesy my cousin.

Yup, a wasabi Kit Kat. Apparently Japan has a thing for flavoured Kit Kat. You can get everything from rather tasty sounding Berry Wine and Custard Pudding  to the downright strange Camembert Cheese, Lemon Vinegar and Soya Sauce varieties. They even have regional versions that vary from north to south based on locally preferred delicacies. This site has a run down of some of the more unusual flavours.

Anyone who has added too enthusiastic a helping of wasabi to their sushi will know that wasabi is a taste - or more a sensation - that needs a bit of getting used to. The root, known as Japanese horseradish, has a similar burn-your-nasal-passages effect that hot mustard has. Not really a flavour I'd imagine going well with chocolate. Chocolate + chilli, yes, and if done right  really delicious. Chocolate and wasabi? I wasn't convinced.

For starters I was expecting dark chocolate. But the wasabi Kit Kat was a very light green achieved by adding wasabi to white chocolate. I think the wasabi + white chocolate combo worked well - sweet to start off with, then the crunch of the wafer, followed by the lingering wasabi flavour. Pungent but surprisingly light, I'm glad the wasabi didn't make it's presence too prominently felt.

All in all, I'd eat it again - which isn't really what I expected to say when I first heard about my edible Japanese present :)