Kuroba-tei: Kagurazaka's gem

Kyo-kaiseki. The name alone is enough to send shivers of delight through any true gourmet. The elaborate, multi-course and inevitably expensive kaiseki meal of seasonal foods is the signature dish of Japan's once and ancient capital Kyoto.

Now normally, one has to take the bullet train two hours west to sample this haute cuisine. But we aren't in Kyoto. We're strolling through a little neighborhood known as Kagurazaka -- Tokyo's 'Little Kyoto.' And we have reservations for what we've been told is one of the best kyo-kaiseki restaurants in town.

Kuroba-tei: Rolling in the clovers

Kuroba-tei -- a play on the word 'clover' -- is tucked into a residential side-street off of Kagurazaka's main shopping promenade. Good luck finding it on your first try. We were squinting at the map on our second pass around, when a man dressed in a jinbei calls out to us from an entryway. "You must be Matt," he says with a smile. "You said it was your first time, and everybody gets lost the first time. So I thought I'd watch for you. Call me Takeya." This is Masayuki Takeya -- Kuroba-tei's owner, maitre'd and head waiter.

After removing our shoes at the entrance, we are ushered into a picture-perfect imitation of a cozy Kyoto-style ryotei. It is divided into separate rooms, each complete with tatami floors and tokonoma alcoves. I am mildly relieved to see actual tables and chairs as my knees can only take so much sitting on the floor.

Although you can order ala carte, the best way to sample a ryotei's cuisine is through the fixed-course menu. Kuroba-tei offers three: one at ¥5,000; one at ¥6,000; and a deluxe version at ¥8,000.

The differences are both in the number of courses and the ingredients. More money, of course, guarantees more variety. Be warned: this is not budget fare. It is 'slow food' in the best sense of the term. We take the plunge and order a pair of deluxe courses. "An excellent choice!" cries Takeya-san when we order a carafe of regional sake on the side.

 

The early courses in kaiseki

The first course arrives: a basket of bite-sized appetizers in tiny dishes arrayed like petals around a flower. Kyoto's signature yuba tofu-skin is a main ingredient here, offered both by itself with wasabi and as a maki, wrapped around vegetables and drizzled with an Italian-style dressing. Mr Takeya carefully explains each and the best order in which to enjoy them -- a prelude to a running commentary that will shortly become a counterpoint to the meal itself.

The next dish is sashimi atop a bed of yellow flowers called kingyo, for their resemblance of goldfish. "Everything on this plate is edible," explains Mr Takeya as he carefully sets the dishes before us. "The flowers contain a substance similar to tumeric; they say it's good for the liver. But not everyone loves the taste -- just a warning in advance."

Next comes a teapot filled with matsutake mushrooms, which one allows to steep for a few minutes before pouring into teacups. The broth is earthily rich without being overpowering, making it obvious why matsutake are used in place of boullion in traditional Japanese cuisine. Once the liquid has been polished off, the now soft mushrooms are eaten straight from the steaming pot with chopsticks.

Final dishes: Tempura and sushi

Two courses later, we are treated to a discourse on the history of tempura along with some exquisitely prepared almond-crusted battered shrimp. Mr Takeya explains that the Portuguese brought the technique to Japan, and that scholars believe that the word Tempura may in fact be 'temple' ('tempuru'), an indirect reference to the missionary work the Portuguese were engaged in when they first arrived.

A plate of perfectly prepared, bite-sized maki-zushi comes with an impromptu discussion of the origins of the dish. Mr Takeya traces it back to the furisode-kaji ('kimono conflagration') that swept Edo in 1657; hastily prepared rations consisting of fish strips wrapped around rice balls were distributed to those who lost their homes in the fire.

Two and a half hours and some eight courses later, the meal is done. Now we are being ushered past a kiddy wading pool that has appeared in the front entranceway. Little balloons bob atop the surface of the water. Mr Takeya shows us how to pluck them out using a thread-like piece of paper, explaining that it's a traditional summer festival game in Japan; they're then threaded over your fingers and bounced like yo-yos. He waves at us as from the door as we walk back towards the station, stomachs filled and minds enriched -- and with our fellow pedestrians wondering why a couple of adults are walking with a pair of balloons jiggling in their hands.

Kuroba-tei (久露葉亭), Kagurazaka 3-6-53, Shinjuku-ku, tel. 03 5206 6997, open daily, http://r.gnavi.co.jp/g703500/
Closest station: JR Iidabashi (West exit), Subway Iidabashi (B3 Exit