Continued, Tokyo New Wave

Koji Koizumi is a modern-day culinary version of the legendary film director Yasujiro Ozu. Ozu revered the seasonality of life. His films tell the stories of families in postwar Japan in long unedited takes; they are unhurried, and observant of the smallest details of quotidian Japanese life. As integral as his characters are to these films, nature and the seasons are just as or perhaps even more significant. Ozu’s films, such as Early Spring and Late Fall, illustrate the Japanese culture’s deep-seated, visceral connection to nature and the seasons.

At thirty-seven years old, Koizumi’s culinary style is guided by twenty-four microseasons. As we sit and chat in his light, airy, and sophisticated dining room at Kohaku, in the former geisha district of Kagurazaka, he tells me about the significance of the seasons to his life, cooking, and vision. We discuss Shintoism, Buddhism, and how lives in Japan are generally imbued with a rhythm and significance dictated by nature. It is simultaneously a teacher, a guiding force, and an inspiration.

Koizumi’s restaurant, Kohaku, is a showcase for the artistry and spirit of kaiseki cuisine (haute cuisine)—a confluence of the seasons, the farmers and artisans who make the ingredients, and the beliefs in the health benefits of food—steeped in abundant, profound symbolism. Every choice at this three-Michelin-starred restaurant is made with profound intention and consideration. With great eagerness, Koizumi is content to expound upon the philosophy of Kohaku, and themes of connectedness and nature.

Koizumi’s shisho (master) is Hideki Ishikawa, the renowned, revered, and humble kaiseki chef, who Koizumi trained with for eight years. What differentiates Koizumi from Ishikawa is Koizumi’s use of fine ingredients from around the world (his mentor uses exclusively Japanese ingredients), the way he creates his omakase (chef’s choice) menu with these ingredients, and a more modern dining space. The beauty of Kohaku is that it is both traditional and contemporary—I can see the past and the future of Japan.

It is late summer when I photograph Koizumi. As I am shooting, I ask him with whom he would like to dine given the chance. He reveals that he would like to have dinner with himself in another life, before he was born and reincarnated as the person he is today. This answer has stayed with me, both thoughtful and sensitive, traditionally and contemporarily Japanese.

What does kaiseki cuisine—and your cuisine, in particular—illustrate about Japan?

In kaiseki, there are a lot of craftsmen and artisans behind everything. There’s the presentation, the person serving—it’s the gathering of many people’s spirits.

Seasons are very important to me and to most Japanese chefs. The ingredients are different depending on the season, and there are differences and subdivisions within each season. There are twenty-four microseasons—early summer, late summer, and so on. We are very sensitive to the seasons, and have words in Japanese to identify the different parts of the seasons, such as Hashiri [early season], Shun [in the middle of the season], Nagori [the season is almost ending], and Ideai [a period of time when Hashiri and Nagori are combined]. Ideai is a very short, very rarefied period of time, so eating any foods that exist during this time are particularly sought after and special. For example, hamo [a fish] is around from July through September. Matsutake mushrooms show up in September and October. For maybe one week in September, they will both be available—this time is very special. Some years, they may not even coincide.

It is important for people to eat according to the seasons; otherwise, foods are not as delicious or as healthy. The human body desires seasonal foods and all five senses are engaged when eating a kaiseki meal, from the aromas, textures, sounds, and so on.

A good chef contributes to society, make customers happy. He innovates, he doesn’t give up. He is honest. He studies and is motivated. I am still studying.

Crab cream croquettes that my mother made. They were very soft. I loved them. After I started cooking, I asked my mom for the recipe, but she lost it and can’t cook them anymore!

People often think that one of the good things about the Japanese is our consideration for others. I think this has been important since the Edo period. For example, when using umbrellas, people are sure not to bump into each other. There is evidence of this in paintings and stories. Japanese care about others, and doing something for someone else’s well-being is important. With the cooking here at Kohaku, it’s the same concept. We are proud of what we do. Same with the fisherman who wants to catch the best tuna, the artisan who wants to make the best bonito. Everyone’s collective spirit is important. This is what it means to be Japanese, to care for community.

Ieyasu Tokugawa, the founder and first shogun of the Tokugawa shogunate of Japan.

This is a summer dish. I wanted to make a cold dish using beef because summer in Japan is very hot and humid. During the summer months, it is important to have meat for protein and energy as people get tired easily.

SHOYU-AN SAUCE

1 cup dashi stock

2 teaspoons mirin

1 tablespoon soy sauce

1 tablespoon sugar

2 teaspoons tapioca starch mixed with 2 teaspoons water

EGGPLANT AND PEPPER

1 quart dashi stock

3 tablespoons mirin

1 tablespoon soy sauce

1 tablespoon sugar

Safflower oil, for frying

4 ounces Japanese eggplant, peeled and halved lengthwise

1 tablespoon seeded and julienned mangan ji (red pepper) or small red bell pepper

BEEF AND UNI

4 ounces Wagyu beef sirloin, sliced thinly against the grain to make 8 slices

24 pieces of uni (sea urchin)

4 pinches of chopped chives

4 pinches of kombu salt

4 pinches of ground sesame seeds

To make the shoyu-an sauce, combine the dashi, mirin, soy sauce, and sugar in a medium saucepan and place over medium heat. Just before it comes to a boil, add the tapioca starch–water mixture slowly, while stirring, until the sauce thickens. Remove from the heat, let cool, and refrigerate until cold.

To make the eggplant, combine the dashi, mirin, soy sauce, and sugar in a medium saucepan. Heat over low heat, stirring, until the sugar is dissolved. Remove from the heat and let cool, transfer to a bowl, cover, and chill until ready to use.

Bring a medium pot of water to a simmer that you will use to blanch the eggplant after frying, then lower the heat and keep hot.

Pour safflower oil into a 6-quart pot until the pot is halfway full and bring to 360°F over high heat. Add the eggplant and deep-fry until it’s a nice golden color, about 1 minute. With a spider skimmer or slotted spoon, transfer the eggplant to a paper towel and let sit for a few seconds to drain. Make sure the hot water bath is not at a boil and add the eggplant to the water for about 10 seconds to remove any excess oil. Put the eggplant on fresh paper towels again to remove the water. Finally, transfer the eggplant to the cold dashi stock mixture and marinate for 1 to 5 hours. Then transfer the eggplant to a paper towel again to remove any excess dashi.

In a small saucepan, pour just enough safflower oil to coat the bottom and heat over medium heat. Add the mangan ji and sauté until slightly wilted, about 20 seconds.

To make the beef, bring a medium pot of water to 160°F. Cook the beef shabu–shabu–style, holding one slice at a time with chopsticks and adding it to the hot water without letting go, until it just barely changes color, about 3 seconds. Place on paper towel to dab off the water. Repeat with remaining slices and place in refrigerator for 5 minutes. Put three pieces of uni on each slice of beef and roll tightly.

Cut the eggplant halves in half to make four pieces. Place a piece of eggplant at the top of each dish or bowl, then the two pieces of rolled beef. Place one-fourth of the sautéed mangan ji on top. Pour about 3 tablespoons cold sauce over the top. Sprinkle with a pinch each of chives, kombu salt, and ground sesame seeds. Serve immediately.

NOTE: You can buy ground sesame seeds in Japanese markets or grind them yourself at home.