JR Kyoto Station, Isetan 11th Floor, Kyoto, Japan
Web: Wakuden
Phone: 075-365-1000
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"Kaiseki is not likely to appear on a large scale in restaurants outside of Japan, but the attention to detail, seasonal ingredients, and presentation are inspirational, regardless."
Though the phrases "high cuisine" and "low cuisine" suggest classism - meals for the wealthy and discerning as opposed to items that are cheap and simple - the reality is more complex: regardless of the patron's income level, there are times when fancy meals make more sense than take-out, and vice-versa. That said, Kyoto is the home of Japanese high cuisine; its Kyo-ryori ("Kyoto Cuisine") was developed over the thousand years it spent hosting Japan's imperial family, and Kaiseki (pronounced k-eye-seh-kee) is today its principal form: an elaborately prepared, artistic multi-course meal assembled from fresh seasonal and local ingredients, selected to express certain natural flavors while beautifully balancing colors and textures. Kyoto's century-old Wakuden is a wonderful and comparatively affordable place to sample kaiseki, offering three set lunchtime meals that range from the equivalent of $28 to $57 or $85 per person; at night, the prices start at $57 and climb upwards, closer to the hundreds of dollars per meal some kaiseki restaurants charge at any time of the day. Individual items are not offered a la carte; the menu merely tells you what the month's currently available sets contain. (We recommend that you see our full 21-photo gallery, here.)
As an extension of the traditional, ritualized Japanese tea ceremony, each kaiseki set meal consists primarily of a series of poetically constructed small plates, simple dishes with elaborately designed, tongue-tickling items that each occupy five or so minutes of eating time, interrupted by brief reflective gaps and the presentation of several different small cups of tea. The arrival of every item is precisely timed to coincide with its peak readiness, so the four-course $28 "Kuchinashi" meal at Wakuden requires roughly an hour of dining, while the seven-course $55 "Suou" meal runs for closer to an hour and a half. Should two diners opt for different sets, the kitchen will time the arrival of the shorter one to match the longer one, so that the meals start and end at the same time. Limited seating capacity and personalized staff attention make reservations a wise idea; by the time Wakuden opened at 11am, a line out front stretched well past the chairs allocated for hungry patrons. We arrived more than half an hour before opening time and were second in line; there were still people waiting when we finished our meal at 12:30.
A quintessentially Japanese balance of earthtoned colors runs from edge to edge of Wakuden's floorplan, with tasteful, expensive furniture elevating its look and feel above even its attractively decorated neighbors. A sharp-angled entry hallway is designed to shield diners from the view of people waiting outside, while a long seating bar in the back of the 11th floor dining room offers a beautiful aerial view of Kyoto, including a massive reflection of nearby Kyoto Tower. Wooden chairs are exquisitely designed with narrow, looping backs and triangular cushions; the entirely communal tables and bar are made from massive whole slabs of wood. The only obvious use of metal is at the bar, where golden faucets dispense beer with the most precisely tuned pressure we've ever experienced, giving our large Kirin a froth so delicate that it felt like a cloud of fine cotton. At a later point in the meal, a server poured a complimentary wonderful, lightly fruity sake from bamboo bottles into frozen bamboo cups - for the look and the scent, shown in our third picture - with results so memorably tasty that we considered ordering more. We learned later that Wakuden sells a box set complete with the sake, bamboo serving bottle and cups - with a one-month shelf life - for $80.
Rather than step through the numerous and extremely elaborate details of our two meals, which span far more photos than we could include here - fans can see the entire collection in our Facebook gallery - we'll walk out of order through the standout elements of just one of the two meals, depicted here. The first of our images is actually the last of the items we received, a yielding slice of sweet, beautifully orange persimmon, served with a slicing spoon and topped with a delicate jelly. In the second, you see the moment after the first bite of a fascinatingly complex soup, in which a thick cloud of nearly powder-like turnip was topped with wasabi - the real, fresh stuff, not the fake paste served almost everywhere - dispersing to reveal a large piece of stewed but not overcooked red sea bream (tai) fish, surprisingly fully intact and gentle. The fourth photo shows another clear brother soup, which was served literally boiling hot in a bowl with two thick slices of pork belly and a surprising number of scallions. The viscosity and light flavor of the broth were just right to present the fatty meat and crisp vegetables inside, allowing their uninhibited natural flavors to shine through, rather than using the overbearing sauces or heavy salts that normally accompany them.
But sauce wasn't taboo. In our fifth photo, two supposedly grilled but seemingly lightly baked slices of the Japanese potato taro were topped with a thick brown miso sauce, similar to a denser soy ketchup, and excellent. Sixth was a small dish of mizuna - a Japanese salad green - with tiny red beans and three beautifully sculpted scallops that created an almost rose-like texture from the typically flat-sided ingredient. Seventh was the one and only plate for which we were offered an option: from the choice of a sea bream sushi, sea bream soup, or broiled eel with miso soup, we went with the latter. This turned out to be a great choice as it enabled us to enjoy not only one of the most delicately crispy pieces of eel we've ever had - served atop a slice of nori paper - but also included a wonderful red miso soup, a long-time favorite that's far better than the versions commonly served in the United States, delivered here at just the right slightly singe-inducing temperature. The last photo shows the most conventional of the items, a small dish of fresh raw tuna sashimi, rendered special at Wakuden by its inclusion of tiny piles of shredded chrysanthemum flower, pulverized seaweed, and again, the true, fresh wasabi, plus a shiso leaf and onions - everything sliced to a level of precision that was remarkable.
If it doesn't shine through in every word above, we were thoroughly impressed with every element of our meals at Wakuden; the individual dishes were thought-provoking, each bringing temperature, texture, color and flavor to bear in such a sophisticated and interesting way that words barely do justice to the experience of eating them. The Suou course was something close to a Masters-level class in meal design and preparation, so well punctuated by teas and diverse in flavors as to throw one's expectations completely off - emotion and curiosity take over, quickly evolving to a passive sense that whatever happens next will be good. And it was.
That said, we closed with the photo of the sashimi because it subtly depicts what the Financial Times has called the "dark side" of kaiseki, the part that explains why it's not easy to find outside Japan, or even Kyoto: many dishes require such skill and time to prepare that kitchen staff at kaiseki restaurants work 80 to 90 hours a week, spending many years training while earning the equivalent of slave wages. Wakuden is considered to be more progressive in these regards than many of its traditional peers, but as the prices suggest, significant and polished talent goes into preparing even a single dish here, then serving it precisely at the right moment. It's no wonder that kaiseki chefs often go on to start or staff other types of restaurants following the rigorous training; almost anything is easier than doing this.
To the extent that the very concept of small, thoughtfully prepared dishes would be lost on many patrons, kaiseki is surely not likely to appear on a large scale in restaurants outside of Japan, but the attention to detail, seasonal ingredients, and presentation are inspirational, regardless. Amidst the curry and ramen restaurants, steakhouses, and sushi shops, there is a place for even more delicately assembled fare, and though kaiseki is neither everyday food nor even something to have with frequency, it's a beautiful reminder of what's possible when chefs bring both artistic and cooking talent to the kitchen.
