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The fourth course got here nestled in a slim, emerald fish-shaped dish: three items of bonito tataki (flash-grilled) so contemporary, they could have simply come swimming on the early summer season breeze.
At Kyoto’s Muromachi Wakuden, a kappō-style restaurant bearing one Michelin star, the three tataki slices leaned staggered on a small mound of shaved onions, accompanied solely by ponzu. Freshly again from a yr of finding out delicacies in France, I used to be struck by the subtlety of this course — visually easier than the dishes I had encountered that previous yr, but exuding an unparalleled confidence, the elegant fattiness of the bonito making a velvet cloak on the tongue.
After the meal, I exited onto the streets of Kyoto with a peculiar feeling. Each one of many 9 programs at Muromachi Wakuden was understated however carved a demanding presence. Equally refined eating experiences in France had excited me with the limitless culinary creativity of cooks, however this was completely different. Over these two hours, I had glimpsed one thing — the dishes I had simply communed with appeared rooted in a long-standing, crystallized philosophy, one that’s maybe uniquely Japanese.
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