Photography by Wing Ta
The Hassun course at Kado No Mise
The Hassun course, which carries the elements of earth, sea, and sky.
When I was in Japan a few years ago, learning about and visiting some whiskey distilleries, the thing that struck me most was how the Japanese had taken a centuries-old Scottish tradition and quietly, steadfastly perfected it, becoming some of the best whiskey-makers in the world. The culture’s respect for form and structure, while also allowing the spirituality and magic of the natural world to have influence, created beauty in art, architecture, and, of course, food and drink. While I can’t wait to go back, I’m in less of a hurry now that chef Shigeyuki Furukawa has come to town, bringing a slice of true Japanese culture with him. That we now have the first kaiseki restaurant in the North is no small thing, and if you want to experience beauty, you should pay it a visit.
Shigey, as he is known in the industry, has taken over the original Origami spot and transformed it into two different restaurants. On the street level, Kado No Mise is an open and bright casual Japanese eatery and sushi bar. The sushi bar is purposefully sunken on the kitchen side so that the chefs are eye-level and can better interact with the guests. That’s the fun! Suited up in Tokyo style, wearing chef hats and ties under snugly buttoned chef coats, these chefs are creating artful and elegant sushi in the Edo style: expertly cut fish featured in smaller bites of nigiri or sashimi that allow the flavor of the fish to shine, as well as tightly constructed rolls with just a few elements balanced to showcase the concert of ingredients. Not only will you not find spicy mayo drizzled on every surface, but you’ll be encouraged to use a slight brushing of soy sauce instead of the typical American dredge. This menu is more traditional than the strip-mall sushi joints that have proliferated in town. It is about restraint and simplicity, and there’s a quiet reverence to that if you slow down and appreciate it. Lord knows I believe a dynamite roll with crunchy exploding bits has its place, but so does a small and buttery slice of yellowback sea bream (renkodai) that, taken with one bite, delivers a singular transporting moment to the sea.
There’s more to Kado No Mise than sushi—far more. Order the chawanmushi and a small clay pot is set before you. Lift the lid and you’ll be rewarded by a silky steamed egg custard with simmered chicken and vegetables lurking beneath. This savory dish is one for all meals, nourishing and deeply tinged with dashi broth but light enough to be an early start to eating. Look for other small twists and delights, such as the nukazuke house-fermented pickles of snappy radishes, or the morokoshi kakiage of early-season sweet corn, a nestled ball of kernels held together by a whisper of tempura. Again, with artful restraint, the grilled Wagyu beef plate has a fanning of perfectly seared slices among blistered shishito peppers and condiments. The ultra-marbled beef is delicate and plush, meant to be bitten and savored rather than hacked at and inhaled like some steakhouse monster. The chasoba may be one of my favorite dishes: Buckwheat soba noodles have been boosted with earthy matcha, making them a vibrant green as they loll in a rich mushroomy broth. On the side are fried tempura vegetables that you should bite into for crisp satisfaction before submerging into the broth, entangling with a verdant noodle for another level of texture, snap, and balance. There wasn’t a dish I didn’t like, but plenty of people have been wondering about the price and portion sizes. True to Japanese culture, it’s not about big portions as much as it is about quality of ingredients and the artful balance of flavors. Eat slowly and thoughtfully, and you will be happy.
Chef Shigeyuki Furukawa
Chef Shigeyuki Furukawa
While Kado No Mise opened first to help set the stage, the upstairs Kaiseki Furukawa is what most Japanophiles have been waiting for. The traditional kaiseki meal is based on an ancient tea ceremony, and it’s an elaborate ritual that celebrates the seasons through a specific sequence of artful plates chosen by the chef. Your meal is in his hands. It is meant to be an expression of “total hospitality,” omotenashi, in which the diner is respected and cared for. “It has to be not only about the food but the atmosphere and the seasons,” says kimono-clad Kei Terauchi, who designed the amazing wine list and helped launch and guide the kaiseki.
The number of plates can vary a little, but my meal was 10 courses strong for $125, plus a $60 wine pairing per person. Not cheap, but for my value, it was worth every penny. We started with Sakizuke, which is an appetizer served with sake, followed by Hassun, the fullest expression of the season with all the elements represented: earth, sea, and sky. Your plate might have a thin pink slice of seared duck or a skewered sazae sea snail in a turban shell inviting you to cross into new waters. There might be clean, fresh edamame or a soft and supple bit of Hokkaido octopus with just a dazzle of dashi gelée. Each bite is an opening to discovery, each mouthful a moment of flavor that engages your mind and erases the Twitter feed in your head. And that’s just one course. Each round that appears before you is presented and described so that you can fully understand the context while appreciating the beauty. Our Suimono, the soup course, featured Nagasaki Island pike in a broth with Minnesota zucchini, while our grilled Yakimono course was the downiest bite of salt-grilled Arctic char with pickled lotus root. We sat at the counter, which is highly recommended in order to watch the action, from the dance of knife skills used in cutting the thick hunk of bluefin toro for the Tsukuri course to the blending of young ginger into sticky rice for the Shokuji course. It was a show without being schticky or glitzy; it was a shared experience. Our Minnesota neighbors at the counter were hesitant at first to ask questions, but once I queried about the pike, the seal was broken and there was much chatter between kitchen and eaters.
As the two-hour meal came to a close with traditional whisked matcha tea and sugared jewels, I asked, “Why do a kaiseki here?” Shigey’s reply: “Because I’m here.” That’s not a quip, especially after you’ve been satiated by a meal that engages all your senses and roots you to the moment. It demands that you be present, which is a valuable thing to have in these hectic, flustered days. “We can’t just do a good job, we have to be exceptional,” Shigey added. “Everyone here is here for the reason that they want to be here.” I want to be there, too. 33 1st Ave. N., Mpls., 612-338-1515, kadonomise.com, kaisekifurukawa.com
