Continued, Tokyo New Wave

Thirty-year-old Kan Morieda wears round black glasses reminiscent of I. M. Pei; they give his boyish face a vaguely retro look and a slight quirkiness that suits his jovial personality. He is tall with a refreshingly goofy and good-natured energy. His thick hair remains standing after he runs his fingers through it. He giggles often and is easy to talk to. His restaurant, Salmon & Trout, opened with friend and business partner Shion Kakizaki, is like Morieda himself—warm, welcoming, and rule free. This is a restaurant to hang out in, not just to eat in; hours pass in its cozy glow before you realize it. There are no chef’s whites to be found here, no serious self-regard or pursuit of awards and stars. I see a single T-shirt folded on a shelf, an illustration of a fish coming out of a banana and the words “Think Outside the Box” emblazoned across the front. Music from a Sufi rock group plays in the background.

Morieda’s informal style is creeping into the food scene in Tokyo. Young chefs like him are liberated by their greater awareness of the culinary world outside Japan and the possibilities this knowledge offers. Conformity is a concept that makes Morieda bristle.

Intriguingly enough, Salmon & Trout is also a bicycle restoration and repair shop called SO!! where the sommelier and DJ space doubles as the reception area for the bike business. The hanging bicycles are not intentional design elements, though they do add even more whimsy to the eclectic space, which is full of found objects from secondhand shops and friends’ homes. Even the name Salmon & Trout has an unexpected explanation—it actually means “gout” in East London cockney rhyming slang.

Morieda did not grow up in a traditional Tokyo household. His father, a self-dubbed eccentric, is a photojournalist and food photographer, who recognized early on that his son was interested in food. As a twelve-year-old boy, Morieda was already critiquing the use and type of salt on the chicken when out for yakitori with his dad. Because he was exposed to the artists and other creative people—both Japanese and foreign—who often visited his parent’s home, out-of-the-box ideas were valued and encouraged. Absent were the rules, strong customs, and behavioral expectations that others in Japan absorb as children. Morieda is proud to be an outlier, an open and easygoing free spirit.

I played beach volleyball from seventeen to twenty years old, and I played in Australia for one year. My coach was a famous beach volleyball player who won at the Olympics, Julien Prosser. I liked volleyball a lot; there was more time to play in Australia than in Japan. But my father wanted me to go to Sydney to work at Tetsuya’s with his good friend, legendary chef Tetsuya Wakuda—this was the primary reason for going. Ever since I was twelve years old, Tetsuya and my dad had planned for me to go work with him because they noticed how much I liked food.

Japan has a long history of adapting foods from other cultures. Things like fermentation—miso, shoyu—originated in China. The concept of sushi originated in Vietnam and Thailand. My father wrote about this in a book called Food in Southeast Asia. Likewise, I’m trying to incorporate influences from Southeast Asia as well as what I learned at Tetsuya’s into my cooking. For example, in my tartar sauce, I put the insides of the ayu [sweetfish]. That is what makes my take on fish and chips different—no one uses ayu in England.

I also use a lot of local ingredients with European ideas. The mozzarella I use is from Shibuya, not Italy—the milk is from Kiyose and Higashikurume. And there’s nectarine and fermented tomato in my caprese, too. Fermented tomato, again, is a Southeast Asian concept. I like to twist dishes and change them. My business partner, Shion Kakizaki, is a food journalist and caviste [person in charge of a wine cellar], and we have the same vision.

Uniqueness is not considered a good thing. Kids in school have to follow all these rules and are just told to do things because they have to do them. Your average young person likes a leader and won’t question anything. They all want to be the same.

Yes, at an older age this can change—when they get the courage to express themselves. Some people start in their late teens or even as older adults. I don’t think it’s good to be like everyone else. My dad is unconventional, which is odd for Japan. He has unique, quirky friends. I want to be like that. I didn’t want to be a salaryman. I like creative people because I am a creative person. My dad was creative, but school wasn’t like this.

Usain Bolt. I think he’s really cool. He’s taller than I am. I want to take a photo with him!

Can I give you a whole sentence? I like the saying “Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.”

Godzilla. Godzilla is a symbol of earthquakes and other natural disasters. Japanese people always have the idea that we will lose everything someday because of natural disasters…it’s always in the back of our minds. We deal with difficulty. And we find solutions. It’s a complex system.

I like to combine ingredients and ideas from different cultures. Of course, burrata is an Italian cheese, but the idea of fermenting tomatoes comes from Southeast Asia. I thought it would give the dish a twist. Tomatoes are a fruit, so the nectarine just added extra sweetness.

FERMENTED TOMATO JELLY

10 large tomatoes on the vine, with leaves

2 tablespoons sea salt

2 gelatin sheets

SALAD

¼ nectarine

6 cherry tomatoes

4 ounces fresh burrata

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

4 nasturtium leaves

¼ cup purslane

12 grains of salt

¼ teaspoon fresh black soft peppercorns, chopped (3 or 4 peppercorns)

To make the jelly, remove the tomatoes and leaves from the vine. Puree the tomatoes and then put the tomatoes, their leaves, and the sea salt into a ziplock bag, seal and shake to incorporate, and let sit for 3 to 5 days at room temperature to ferment. You will know when it is ready when the bag has puffed up.

Strain the mixture through a filter (such as a coffee filter) overnight to allow the juice to come out. (Do not force through a sieve.) The next morning, throw away the puree (or use for something else) and transfer the juice to a bowl.

Fill a small bowl with cold water, dip the gelatin sheets into the water, and soak for 5 minutes.

Pour 10 percent of the tomato juice into a pot and bring to a boil over medium heat. Turn off the heat. Add the gelatin sheets and mix. Add the rest of the tomato juice and mix well. Refrigerate for 2 hours.

To make the salad, slice the nectarine and cut up the cherry tomatoes and burrata into large bite-size pieces and combine them in a medium serving bowl. Add 2 tablespoons of the fermented tomato jelly and the olive oil to the bowl, and toss until evenly coated.

Garnish and season the salad with the nasturtium, purslane, salt, and peppercorns. Serve right away.

NOTE: This recipe requires three days’ advance preparation. Fresh black peppercorns are sold on the vine or in a jar.