Kosaku Kawamura, in my opinion, is technically the best sfoglino in the world. He is shokunin (master craftsman). He is an ardent and astute practitioner of handmade pasta. When I met Ko at La Scuola, our friendship was immediate. We recognized in each other the pursuit of perfection. He opened my eyes to the ingenious natural engineering of the shapes of pasta and asked me to look beyond tradition and explore a more systematic approach to pasta making. Knowing my own uncompromising nature, it was no surprise his philosophy was hugely influential.
Base, Ko’s miniscule laboratorio and dining room in the Bunkyo-ku area of Tokyo, sits across the street from a police station. Outside, a sign reads: NON SI MANGIA BENE QUI—you will not eat well here. There is no waitstaff, nor menu. There is just Ko and his tagliatelle in bianco, tender strands of pasta dressed with oil and Parmigiano-Reggiano. A brusque challenge is issued to each customer upon arrival. Kosaku is serious about his profession and wants to know if you are serious, too. His kitchen is simple—just a two-burner stove, a sink, and a refrigerator for the beer. If you are lucky enough to sit at one of the eight stools, you can witness the deft precision of his preparation. Each portion of tagliatelle is preciously wrapped in absorbent towels. He uses a matcha brush to quickly emulsify a splash of pasta water and olive oil in a plastic bowl while the tagliatelle swims in a bath of delicately seasoned water. Kosaku’s pasta is supremely balanced. Much like a perfect grain of sushi rice, each strand of tagliatelle is unique on the palate. A quick dusting of Parmigiano-Reggiano and a crack of black pepper are the only adornments.
