
Japanese food: Where the Nippon soul resides (Photos: Clifford Roberts)
I’d picked up a copy of Hisashi Kashiwai’s The restaurant of lost recipes:
“Taste is a peculiar thing,” began Nagare, reaching for a Karatsu-ware teacup and filling it with green tea. “The taste of home, for example. It’s different for everyone – and I don’t mean just the food. Every family has its own flavour, too. The feeling of safety you get from being together, the way you look out for each other – all that combines to create a unique sensation.”
I tried squaring the extract from his book with my own peculiar experience just days before. For the first time in my life, I’d tried squid tentacles – freshly cut and still writhing.
True to Hisashi-san’s observation, it’s the squeals and howling at the sight by the group I was with that I remember most.

Japan’s food is as fascinating as its ancient history and architecture. (Photo: Clifford Roberts)
I was on a multi-day exploration of Japan, and it was the culinary scene I’d especially looked forward to. The country comprises a chain of rugged and mountainous islands between the North Pacific Ocean and the Sea of Japan. The foundation of its contemporary culture dates to the 17th century and reflects many regional influences not only from China and Korea, but also from the United States since the World War era of the 1940s.
It’s perhaps not surprising that my first encounter began with Orion lager. The Norwegian Spirit cruise ship I was on had docked at the port in Ishigaki, the largest of Japan’s southernmost islands and some 230 kilometres east of Taiwan. This time of the year, the humidity bears down on you like a sandbag weakens the knees and erodes the will.
Island style: Finding my feet in the tropics
But there was also the blue, blue sky dotted with cumulonimbus, jungle greens and beaches typical of the tropics. Orion is brewed on nearby Okinawa, and I was most grateful for the dew-clad thirst-quencher that I chugged down in seconds.
As for food, I found shelter in the air-conditioned bunker of a food hall, glancing at a neighbour’s plate for hints. She caught my gaze and gave a thumbs-up, so I ordered the marumen cartilage soki soba. The noodle dish is served with beef and spring onions in a rich broth, served alongside tempura vegetables. I added a drop of sauce from a tabletop bottle filled with rice liquor and whole chillies.
The subways of Tokyo are littered with restaurants. One of the meals I kept ordering was hot-and-sour udon with black vinegar, shrimps, egg and deep-fried chicken. (Photo: Clifford Roberts)
Dessert was a three-storey and deliciously light ricotta soufflé cake. Each of the soufflés was cooked separately but simultaneously from a batter piped onto a hot plate. They were then balanced on top of each other before getting a coating of milky vanilla sauce. I watched their assembly over some 30 minutes before tucking in.
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More beer was in the offing in Naha, capital city of Okinawa, but the mood had changed. This time, the label bore iconography of the Yamato, Japan’s most famous WW2 battleship. It was to be a precursor of things I’d get to see at the site of a devastating battle between the Americans and Imperial soldiers.
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More beer was in the offing in Naha, capital city of Okinawa, but the mood had changed. This time, the label bore iconography of the Yamato, Japan’s most famous WW2 battleship. It was to be a precursor of things I’d get to see at the site of a devastating battle between the Americans and Imperial soldiers.
Simplicity can be the most complex dish
The war also echoed in a dish I would try later in Tokyo, at a shrine and museum for fallen soldiers. Visiting in the early morning is best, before the tour buses arrive, and you can just sit on a bench and absorb the serenity that clings to Japan in general. The restaurant there recreates the dish served to kamikaze pilots before their missions. Called tamago-don, it is a simple bowl of rice with egg.
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The restaurant there recreates the dish served to kamikaze pilots before their missions. Called tamago-don, it is a simple bowl of rice with egg.
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The story goes that Tome Torihama opened her Tomiya Restaurant in 1942, only for it to become a premises designated for catering to the military. In March 1945, when the kamikaze squadrons began to launch attacks from Chiran, a region on the southern part of Japan’s main island, pilots began to frequent Tomiya. Tome Torihama died in 1992 at the age of 89, leaving a legacy that earned her the title of Mother of the Kamikazes.
Seafood is so much more than fish and shellfish
So-called “sea grapes” are among the ocean delicacies to be had on Okinawa and adjacent islands. (Photo: Clifford Roberts)
Beyond the stalwarts of rice and eggs that I encounter in most places, however, and given the country’s geography, it’s perhaps unsurprising that the national diet has long been dominated by and become famous for seafood. My first reminder came on Naha’s Kokusai Street, through a beaming farmer who grabbed my attention. He was in a shopfront photograph with a bunch of what appeared to be small, green marbles known as umi-budō or “sea grapes”, a type of algae. I gleaned my information by using the handy translation app on my phone – a must-have when touring these parts.
Dabbed with a little sesame oil, each sample produced little pops as I chewed, followed by a salty nuttiness. I spent the next half hour caught up with sampling various treats, like miso with Okinawan agu pork, as well as canola oil, sesame, ginger, beetroot and sugar.
Japanese whisky is a sought-after highlight. (Photo: Clifford Roberts)
A highlight of the entire trip, however, happened at the end of labyrinthine passages that I navigated to find a seafood market. I’d heard you could order fish and have it prepared on site, but was surprised by not only the variety of seafood available, but the diversity of preparations.
I chose a red seabream. “You want it fried? Sashimi? Soup?” came the question from one of the extroverted young women helping the passing customers. I chose all three: half a fillet fried, a half sliced and served raw, and the heads and fins added to a seafood soup. “The best you’ll ever have,” said an elderly American diner nearby, who I assumed was living on the island.
Naha was the first time I encountered the locally farmed wagyu beef, selling for Y2 500 (around R304) for 100g. Countless shops had it on their menus and offered it at streetside stalls, but it was time to move along.
No doubt, my drinking habits have become obvious, so readers won’t be surprised that I’d been keeping my eye on local distilleries. Having docked in Osaka, I was itching to get to Japan’s first and oldest malt whisky distillery. Japanese whisky in general commands a high price, but I would have loved a visit to the Yamazaki Distillery of Shinjiro Torii. Time was against me. Next time, I promised myself.
Shoes off!
I eventually had another rather unusual experience – my first shoeless meal in a Japanese restaurant. It’s not unusual here, of course. The aisles between the low tables were littered with shoes and slip-ons. A bell on the table allows you to hail the waiter. I order okonomiyaki – a savoury pancake – served with pork shavings. The hors d’oeuvre is a bowl of deep fried nori, and I snack and sip on a whisky and soda – or highball cocktail – served in a beer mug.
The menu offers no clues to the items on my sushi platter at Sushidoro Shizuoka. (Photo: Clifford Roberts)
More eating follows at Kuromon Market, where I rediscover the outstanding tsukemono, or pickles – another rich tradition of Japanese culinary masters. Sushi is, of course, another. For a while, like a child in a toyshop, I put off choosing the time and moment for this meal. I need it to be special, which is how the opportunity shows itself outside Sushidoro Shizuoka in Shimizu.
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More eating follows at Kuromon Market, where I rediscover the outstanding tsukemono, or pickles – another rich tradition of Japanese culinary masters. Sushi is, of course, another. For a while, like a child in a toyshop, I put off choosing the time and moment for this meal.
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As has become familiar by now, there are noren – a pair of short curtains – across the doorway to the place. Beyond them, I find a dozen or so tables for two, all filled. It’s lunch time, and there’s the gentle hum about the place. Waiters dart about like bees visiting flowers, always with a pleasant and attentive posture.
At the seafood market in Okinawa, you can select your fish and have it prepared in an upstairs restaurant. (Photo: Clifford Roberts)
The Tsukiji Outer Market is one of Tokyo’s famous seafood markets, perfect for snacking on the go. (Photo: Clifford Roberts)
I’m shown a space at a long counter behind which the chefs chop and slice and plate. I use the universal foreigner ordering technique – pointing to an interesting-looking platter at a suitable price. Minutes later, a plate appears with 11 glistening micro-sculptures. The menu offers no clues – just “delicious seafood” and “an original menu”. The fish roe, tuna and shrimp are easy enough to identify, the eel and little blocks of egg pancake, too. For the better part of an hour, I’m transported by the moment.
A slice of grilled eel on top of an omelette tart is one of the many treats at Osakan streetfood markets. (Photo: Clifford Roberts)
Crazy, crazy Tokyo
Days later, I’m in Tokyo, opening myself to the bewilderment of its busiest night-time districts. After watching the giant Godzilla head atop a Shinjuku skyscraper rage with blazing eyeballs, I escape the crowds and enter Kakekomi Gyoza. It’s difficult to miss the dumpling restaurant with its lanterns like giant fireflies clustered around its front entrance. It’s a tourist place, for sure, dressed heavily with colourful Japanese wall carvings, but the menu is fulfilling. I polish off my serving with another chilled highball.
Over the next few days, I revert to the seemingly ubiquitous hot-and-sour udon with black vinegar and deep-fried chicken. I make a staple of onigiri rice balls, picking them up from my local FamilyMart before heading into the subway for the day.
Rice sandwiches are ubiquitous in these parts and available at almost every convenience store. (Photo: Clifford Roberts)
The concluding meal of the trip takes place in the swanky Ginza district, at Sophie, the restaurant of The Tokyo Edition hotel. It’s a glimpse of how fantastically Japanese techniques and ingredients blend with a contemporary palate.
For mains, I order the brown butter-based Hokkaido stingray served with cabbage, potato, soy sauce, Okinawa chilli paste and mushroom sauce. It’s a dish I will remember. Tomorrow, I must board a plane for home, but Japan and its soul will stay with me long beyond the length of my flight.
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