Continued, Tokyo New Wave

Craftale is in the lush Nakameguro neighborhood along the canal-like Meguro river. It is up on the second floor, with a view of the water and the cherry trees. Shinya Otsuchihashi is thirty-two, and has an exceptional curiosity for ingredients; before we begin our interview, he completely dissects an okra flower. With a sense of wonder and tweezers, he reveals its yellow-and-purple paperlike petals, explaining its components to me like a botanist.

We sit down at a wooden table in Craftale’s placid, spare dining area, which recalls Nordic minimalism. The gray, beige, and white space has an industrial look, with unfinished building materials integrated into the design. Most of the dining room faces a single large rectangular window that looks out onto the canal; the L-shaped open kitchen sits at the entrance.

Otsuchihashi is a young man transformed by his time living and cooking abroad in France, but not by the country alone. He stresses the life-changing, revelatory excitement he experienced interacting with young chefs from the world over, all of whom traveled to France to work and gain experience just as he did. His family’s devotion and love are also a source of creativity and motivation. A sense of honor and maturity beyond his years is strong within him; he wishes to be successful so that he can reflect well on all those who have worked with him, supported him, and believed in him.

Eating at Craftale means enjoying a succession of small dishes that are well thought out and adventurous in terms of color, texture, and provenance. One of the dishes I recently enjoyed is Galician octopus. I happened to share it with a Galician friend, and we both agreed that Otsuchihashi succeeded in transporting us to Spain. But Otsuchihashi’s penchant for conveying a sense of place is not limited to one country. He will often use unconventional materials in lieu of traditional ceramic plates, like a wooden block, a crystal cylindrical platform, or a square stone slate. Eclectic breadlike creations are made specifically for main dishes and presented as accompaniments, something he calls bread pairings. For example, an empanada with a twist is served with the octopus, or a flaky escargot-swirled bread accompanies his escargot. His presentation can be arresting and innovative, something that makes eating here both fun and noteworthy. It seems that Michelin has discovered Otsuchihashi and agrees with me; they have awarded him his first star.

I cook because I am very much a gourmand. I eat all the time. I always wanted to eat the best food in the world, and then just decided to make it myself. It evolved into preparing food for others. I wanted to work in a restaurant to express my understanding of ingredients and share my philosophy on the plate. I like to communicate the scenery from where the ingredients came from, the environment and origins of the food. This is why my dishes change with the seasons. I think if customers eat what I create, they will recall these things, no matter where they are from.

In Japan, we express ideas and emotions indirectly. This is because of the religion and culture. We learn in elementary school and high school to be a bit shy and are tentative about being rejected by others. I don’t think this is wrong; this way of expression is communal. Before I went to France, my way of thinking was rigid, and then when I was there, my way of thinking changed. There was more freedom to express myself more easily. It was the best experience of my life. In the kitchen each month in France, there were three people from all over the world who came to work for one month. Just two of us had fixed positions, everyone else changed. I learned a lot from these international visitors.

I do what I do for my family and for myself. The people I work with and my immediate family are important to me. They are actually all one big extended family.

My bento box that my mom would make when I went to school in Kagoshima. It wasn’t tasty, but I remember it well. She always gave me the same thing, with little things on the side. There was always tamago [Japanese-style omelet], small tomatoes, vegetables, fish, and a lot of rice. The lunch box wasn’t big, but my mother stuffed it with all these things, and the tomato was always crushed on top of the rice. I realize now, with a sense of nostalgia, that my mom was considering the balance of the food—egg, fish, vegetable, rice.

It comes from Craft and Tale. Craft is the making of something, creating a story. Tale is a story, the menu itself.

People caring about others, manners. Rice. I love Japanese rice. When I was in France, I wanted to eat steamed white rice. I really wanted it. I lost weight in Paris and gained it back here in Japan.

It’s a small world here. We have everything, and it’s really intense.  It’s a great fusion of nature and city.

Miyazaki’s Castle in the Sky. There’s a lot of food and food references in the film. When I was little and I saw this film, there were many things I wanted to eat.

Since childhood, I have always thought about food. I wanted to create a summer dish with octopus, a popular and inexpensive ingredient that can be used to create interesting and modern presentations. I use an octopus called tenagadako (long-armed octopus). It has a soft texture and vibrant and lively visual appeal when cooked. To me, it looks as if it is dancing flamenco on the plate! To further convey the passion and vibrancy of flamenco, I incorporate red ingredients, too, like red bell pepper and paprika.

POTATO CHIPS

1 purple or yellow potato

1 pink or yellow potato

¼ cup olive oil

OCTOPUS CONFIT

1 clove garlic, peeled and chopped

2 rosemary sprigs

4 thyme sprigs

1¼ cups olive oil

2 small octopi, about ½ pound each

ANCHOVY SAUCE

3 eggs

3½ tablespoons olive oil

2-ounce tin of anchovies in olive oil, drained, skinned, and deboned

2 teaspoons sweet paprika

RED PEPPER SAUCE

5 red bell peppers

½ cup olive oil

Salt

15 nasturtium leaves

15 fresh basil leaves

Paprika, for garnish

Cut the potatoes with a mandoline into ¹⁄16-inch-thick slices. Put the potatoes onto a baking sheet in one layer. Brush the olive oil on top to cover. Bake for about 90 minutes, until dry and transparent.

To make the octopus confit, sauté the garlic, rosemary, and thyme in the olive oil in small sauté pan over low heat for 2 minutes, just to bring out the perfume of the  herbs. Transfer the oil and herbs to a 3-quart saucepan.

Remove the heads from the octopi by holding the whole octopus, by the tentacles, and pulling. Then clean out the heads. Cut the tentacles into sections with three tentacles each. Put the tentacles and heads in the seasoned olive oil and cook in the  oven for 3 hours until a deep, almost reddish brown. Keep warm.

To make the anchovy sauce, bring a small pot of water to a rolling boil and also prepare an ice bath. Cook the eggs in the boiling water for 5 minutes. Drain, place the eggs in the ice bath for 5 minutes, and then peel.

Combine the eggs, olive oil, anchovies, and paprika in a blender and puree until smooth. Strain through a fine-mesh chinois. Discard any solids.

To make the red pepper sauce, remove the bell pepper skins with a peeler, then remove the seeds. Cut the peppers lengthwise into three or four pieces.

Heat the olive oil in small sauté pan over medium heat. Add the peppers and sauté for 20 minutes, until very wilted and soft. Pour the peppers into a blender with a pinch of salt and puree until smooth. Strain with a fine-mesh sieve and discard the solids.

Put the anchovy sauce and red pepper sauce each into plastic squeeze bottles. Remove the octopus confit from the pan with tongs. Place on some paper towels to remove most of the oil. Cut the heads into three pieces.

For each serving, place three tentacles and a piece of the head on a plate. Squeeze a small dot of anchovy sauce and a small dot of red pepper sauce close to the octopus. Lean the potato chips against the octopus. Scatter three nasturtium and three basil leaves over the dish. Sprinkle the paprika over three points around the octopus. Serve immediately.