The World of Kaiseki

Aimee Foy looks into the Japanese tradition of Kaiseki

Kaiseki Intro

Traditional Japanese Cuisine relies on the graceful, synchrony of taste, timing and natures' seasonal gifts. Those who have experienced life in Japan will have some appreciation of the significance of the word harmony and nowhere is this more on display than in Kaiseki ryori: the first and last word in Japanese culture. Decorative garnishes and food fashioned to imitate nature (life’s greatest exemplar) is intended to bring out the visual allure of the food and engender a feeling of calm in the recipient.

Anyone expecting the abrasive flavours that our taste-buds have been groomed to accept in the 21st century need to leave their out-landish premonitions by the umbrella stand. This is about a total experience that embraces the senses and gets us to rethink those carnal impulses that hinge on immediate gratification.

A load of old stones?

Tracing the origins of Kaiseki brings us to a seventeenth century teahouse, a graceful garden and some hot rocks. The backdrop for some heavy-duty meditation, Buddhist priests struggled to stave off starvation until someone discovered the benefits of thermal heating and "Kaiseki" was born.

Meaning literally "breast stones" because of the hot stones they concealed inside their robes, the term Kaiseki-ryori or "meal" soon followed with the realization that "Cha-no-yu" (tea ceremony) would be far more enjoyable if the participants were not half-starved. The aim of the meal was to satiate the guest of only 80 per cent of their hunger as grandiose ideas pertaining to food and large homes stood in stark contrast to Buddhist teachings.

Originally the favored pastime of the Shoguns of Edo Japan, Kaiseki-ryori emerged as part of an attempt to make the tea ceremony available to the average man on the street. Once wholly veggie the meal now includes some meat although it is strictly off the menu in August when Buddhist teachings assert that the souls of the departed return to the earth.

Say again?

Detail. Kaiseki is a cooking Art of extraordinary refinement because it involves great care, attention to detail, guests and occasion. Not only does this betray its cultural roots but also explains why the proceeding course arrives just before conversation resumes and the guests start to grow restive; And why the Hassun (small vegetables and seafood) undergoes several cooking stages before its fine flavours are ready to be dispersed.

Held in great esteem regardless of rank or regularity, each guest can be assured of the freshest seasonal produce. Rising at 4.30a.m. to garner the freshest cuts for the meal is one reason people happily ascent to paying big money in an age of fast-food behemoths.

Simplicity

All the ingredients used in Kaiseki can be found in every kitchen in the land. Yes, that includes the old faithful Shochu (admittedly lighter though in Kaiseki) Konbu (a type of seaweed used to make stocks) Bonito (small dried fish for stocks etc) but this is not to denounce the skill that lies at the heart at the cuisine.

The meal usually contains meat and vegetables in equal measures and is balanced by food drawn from every known hunting ground from river to tree. Although it's rare for them to appear in the same dish every part of the vegetable e.g. root, stem and tip is represented in the Kaiseki course at any one sitting.

Zen

Originally inseparable from its Buddhist roots now a commodity to sell fragranced candles and oil burners rediscover its unadulterated form in the sixteenth century tea-room-cum Kaiseki restaurant. In essence Zen Buddhism concerns the importance of harmony, asserting that no one element dim the brightness of the rest, hence the absence of strong flavours.

As restraint and economy are dominant themes it behooves the guest to impress upon the gentle flavours other Rikyu elements like beauty, repose and serenity. In quantities abundant enough for everyone, the naturalistic setting for Kaiseki is perfect for the appreciation of the elements that have long been fundamental to the Buddhist faith.

Utensils

Often brightly coloured and uniform in December due to the scarcity of rich vegetable hues or moonlit night scenes in deep mid-Winter, crockery is generic and often designed to reflect the shape of the food it cradles.

Testifying strongly to the triumph of nature over design is the phrase that is tagged on to the custom for earthen-ware pots; "Wabicha" meaning "Born not made." Prized alongside the ephemeral in Japanese society is the freshest, seasonal and most in demand food.

For instance, May bears observance to the flower-viewing Kaiseki, featuring skewered truffles and bright colours to reflect events in nature. As Winter looks to the new year, the faded green of the Ohashi (serving chopsticks) reassures the guest that the past year will soon be eclipsed by the upcoming one and Kaiseki-ryori resumes its rhythmic inter-play with the exposition of the twelve seasons.

Repose and Rhythm

Hailing from the tearoom of yester-year are elements that reverberate through food, utensil and interior with a uniformity that borders precariously on design. This explains the undulations from hot to cold food, warm to cold plates and the reason each course arrives in an intermittent flow much like the conversation. Strictly out of bounds is the subject of business with light chat on the merits of the room or cooking favoured as fillers, and music is the murmur
of the hearth or the tinkle of the crockery.

Born out of the belief that nature contains enough of its own crescendo's to justify its dispensation entirely, there’s' no dancing on the tables here.

Text & Photos: Aimee Foy