Continued, Tokyo New Wave

No matter the culture, chefs often cite music as the crux of their identity. Sometimes chefs provide a soundtrack—often a bold one—at their restaurants, as a way to convey their personalities beyond the plate.

It is because of music that Yusuke Namai became a chef. He is deeply influenced by the guitar, especially rock and blues. He tells me that Jim Morrison, John Lennon, Jimi Hendrix, and Janis Joplin touch his heart,  that Keith Richards is an inspiration. He had been working at a live house (a venue where live music is played) in Chiba Prefecture, playing guitar, and thought he would become a professional guitarist. At the live house, he was often fed, but he couldn’t afford to pay for his meals. To compensate management, he began to work in the kitchen. Namai is entirely self-taught; he learned technique from books and from trial and error. He also draws quite well in addition to his musical talent. His artistic sensibility helps him create singular ideas in the kitchen.

What is compelling about Namai’s dishes at Ode is the presentation. He conceptualizes monochromatic dishes for distinctive, attention-grabbing plating. He tells me that he doesn’t like many colors all together, either in life or on the plate. He prefers one color in different shades. And because he likes modern art, he believes that dishes look more contemporary in one color with little decoration. The look is simple but the taste is complex. One dish, sardines with anchovy meringue, is almost entirely gray on gray—plated on a gray dish, it is an arresting statement. He deceives the diner a bit; by questioning our conditioned perceptions and expectations about what a meringue should be. We are programmed to anticipate that meringue will be sweet and for dessert; but instead, Namai makes it salty, fishy, and gloriously addictive. Eating his meals are surprise forays to a land where things are not necessarily what they seem.

One afternoon after lunch service, Namai brings his guitar to play for me; he is clearly an accomplished musician. As I listen and watch, he fades in and out of another dimension, so focused on the strings and the notes that everything and everyone around him disappears. His desire to evolve, improve, and be more assertive is coupled with a softheartedness and a touch of unawareness of how good his food really is. At Ode, Namai’s dishes are as stirring as the music he loves.

I liked the sounds of my mother’s cooking, the chopping, the boiling, the frying. They mean family to me, because I always heard them growing up. Most chefs talk about their mother’s cooking. Even if their fathers were cooks, they never talk about their father’s cooking, because it is an old-fashioned way of thinking. They expect mothers to do home cooking for the family.

Kuri gohan [chestnut rice] in the fall. Take the skin off the chestnuts, wash the chestnuts, then cook them in the rice. I remember there was also dashi and soy sauce. It was made with sticky rice—half sweet, half regular rice.

Yes, historically. Different members of the family had defined roles. My work life should be separate from my private life. I care about my family a lot. I want to talk about them, but feel embarrassed to do so.

It was interesting, when I went to Finland, I met a chef friend’s entire family, his children, even grandparents, on my first visit. We all went to the mountains together. This was unusual for me. It’s not that way here in Japan, to meet a whole family. He showed me this open way of being, a different way of thinking.

After Andrea Fazzari tried my cooking at the restaurant where I previously worked, she suggested the name and I was amazed by this. I looked up the word and it is exactly how I want to communicate the feeling behind my cooking, which all starts with music. Basically an ode is a poem that is meant to be sung. I try to communicate something poetic and lyrical through my food; I want the experience to be transporting, akin to what you feel listening to music. My dishes and the dining experience are an ode to food. It’s the perfect name. I was so happy when she told me. Thank you, Andrea!

The Michel Bras book; I was surprised and amazed by it. I identified with his philosophy of cooking and the simplicity of the ingredients. I’ve always liked to draw and so I was also impressed by the artistic composition of his dishes.

The dish should have an element of the unexpected. Mouthfeel is important, and so is having many textures to create a rhythm when my guests are chewing. This is because eating is just like experiencing music. I prefer one color at a time. Let me explain it like this. In the fall, up close there are many colors—yellow, red, orange, brown, black—but from far away, the total of all these colors together looks like just one color, such as red. I focus on this, the one color from afar.

For me, it means being courteous. I’m not assertive or aggressive. I lack initiative compared with foreigners. People don’t stand up for themselves and express their opinions. When abroad, I realize I am not like they are.

Keith Richards, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Robert De Niro, and Roberto Benigni.

I always try to put a sense of fun and playfulness into my recipes. I like hiding little secrets on the plate to give people that sense of wonder. Diners’ reactions to my dishes excite me, and when they ask “What is this?” or “What is hidden inside?” I feel particularly good. In this case, it is a sardine covered with meringue (actually anchovy chips), which are the same color and texture as the plate. Once you remove the anchovy chips, you will find beautiful sardines and mushrooms hiding underneath.

ANCHOVY MERINGUE

2 tablespoons olive oil

Heads and bones from 2 sardines

Pinch of fresh chopped thyme leaves

5 oil-packed anchovy fillets, chopped

6 tablespoons heavy cream

2 tablespoons mizuame, corn syrup, or barley malt syrup

3 egg whites

1 tablespoon powdered egg whites

½ teaspoon sosa gelespessa (optional)

SARDINES

2 large fresh sardines, cleaned, scaled, and filleted

Sea salt

ANCHOVY MAYONNAISE

2 oil-packed anchovy fillets, minced to a paste

3 tablespoons mayonnaise

1 teaspoon grated Parmigiano-Reggiano

½ teaspoon red wine vinegar

½ teaspoon extra-virgin olive oil

MARINATED MUSHROOMS

5 tablespoons olive oil

1 clove garlic, chopped fine

2 ounces shimeji mushrooms, diced

2 ounces maitake mushrooms, diced

Salt

1 tablespoon raisins

1 teaspoon capers in vinegar

½ teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon juice

1 tablespoon sherry vinegar

Fresh sorrel leaves, for garnish

To make the anchovy meringue, warm the olive oil in a sauté pan over medium heat. Add the sardine heads and bones and the thyme, and sauté, applying pressure and lightly breaking with a wooden spatula, until the head and bones come apart, about 5 minutes. Add the anchovies and heavy cream, bring to a boil, and immediately remove from the heat. Pour the whole mixture, bones and all, into a blender and puree for about 3 minutes. Strain through a fine-mesh sieve in case there are any  large pieces of bone left.

Transfer the cream mixture to another pot, stir in the mizuame, and continue to cook over medium heat until you reach 210°F measured with a candy thermometer. Maintain that temperature, monitoring it with the thermometer, so that it will bind with the eggs whites in the next step.

In a large bowl, stir together the fresh egg whites, powdered egg whites, and sosa gelespessa, if using. Add the cream mixture to the bowl and stir until combined.

Spread out the mixture in a thin layer on the trays of a food dehydrator set to 151ºF and dry for 8 hours. If you do not have a dehydrator, spread the meringue in a thin layer on baking sheet and let sit in a warm, dry place for 24 hours, until dry and brittle. When the meringue is done, break it into small squares the size of a quarter and set aside.

To make the sardines, sprinkle the fillets with sea salt on both sides and let sit for 10 minutes. Rinse the salt off under cold running water, pat dry, and cut into ½-inch slices. Set aside.

To make the anchovy mayonnaise, stir together the anchovies, mayonnaise, Parmigiano-Reggiano, and red wine vinegar. Add the olive oil and stir to combine. Set aside.

To make the mushrooms, heat the olive oil and garlic in a sauté pan over medium heat. When the oil shimmers, add both kinds of mushrooms and stir-fry for about 5 minutes, until the mushrooms are slightly golden in color. Add salt to taste, then add the raisins, capers, and lemon juice to taste. Stir-fry for a few minutes, until the mushrooms are golden brown, adding the sherry vinegar toward the end. Remove from the heat and let cool.

Spread the anchovy mayonnaise onto a serving plate. Place the mushrooms on top of the mayonnaise, then nestle the sardine pieces on top. Garnish with the whole sorrel leaves, then layer pieces of the broken anchovy meringue to cover all of the ingredients. Serve immediately.

NOTE: Have your fishmonger clean, scale, and fillet the sardines but ask them to reserve the head and bones for you, which are used in the anchovy meringue. Mizuame is a Japanese sweetener similar to corn syrup or barley malt syrup. Sosa gelespessa is a thickening agent that’s only necessary if you live in a humid climate.