kaiseki-Sakura
416-923-1010
556 Church Street

Literally translated, kaiseki means “stone in the bossom,” named for the practice whereby Zen Buddhist monks placed warm stones in the folds of their obi as a way to stave off hunger. But its meaning is derived from more than that, says Yumi Izutsu, who with her husband, chef Daisuke Izutsu, opened kaiseki-Sakura last August. Around 1,000 years ago, Buddhist monks held traditional tea ceremonies, during which they offered small, light dishes of food to balance the effects of the strong green tea, she says. At one time kaiseki was also used to describe the style of food served at drinking parties held by Shoguns, or the highest-ranking Samurai. In modern North American vernacular, think of kaiseki as a tasting, or a small plates menu.

Having worked in kitchens since he was 18, 39-year-old Daisuke has accumulated a wealth of experience. In Japan he worked for a famous chef, Mr. Kurosaki, who was the head chef at a Swiss hotel in Osaka. In Canada he worked as the private chef for the Consulate General of Japan for three years, and did a year-long stint with Marc Thuet before opening his own place.

It’s mind-boggling the way one chef and an assistant can plate dishes that appear as complex as those served at The French Laundry, where a 10-member-plus brigade is required to execute the menu. Look out Thomas Keller. But then Japanese and French cuisines really can’t be compared. And kaiseki-Sakura isn’t quite as large, or busy for that matter. In fact, it still seems to be relatively unknown to the city’s foodies, perhaps because of its location. Church Street isn’t known as a haven of high-end dining.

Kaiseki is edible art. Its components are a balance of tastes, textures, temperatures, visual aesthetic, and colours. Yumi, translating for her husband, says at the restaurant they use primarily local, seasonal ingredients, which is another marker of kaiseki style. One of its more beautiful elements is the use of garnishes that mimic the natural world. Eat at kaiseki-Sakura during the autumn months and find burnished orange maple leaves crafted from carrots or fried sweet potato, and pine needles made from soba noodles, scattered delicately on the plate. In December, look forward to snow flakes carved from taro root.

A five-course tasting menu for November ($60 per person) included the following courses:

Sakizuke (amuse-bouche): cream cheese tofu, lobster sauce and mountain plum

Suimono (soup): clear bonito soup with chrysanthemum flower and mushrooms with fish cake

Tesukuri (sashimi): amberjack with ponzu sauce and sweet shrimp mixed with sliced ohba and served with raw quail egg and soya sauce for dipping, accompanied by fresh wasabi root and a grater to do-it-yourself

Yakimono (broiled or grilled fish): green onion wrapped with duck, topped with fig and sesame sauce; white fish baked with cod roe and mayo sauce; baked shrimp with miso paste; fried shrimp coated with rice cracker powder; yellowtail wrapped with thinly sliced daikon radish; crab meat, potato stem, and pear with egg yolk and vinaigrette sauce

Takiawase (boiled fish or seafood): layers of scallops, persimmon and lobster with tofu skin & bonito sauce with fresh wasabi

Shokuji (noodles): soba noodles flavoured with shiso (a fragrant Japanes herb)

Mizumono (dessert): green tea mousse, sweet potato and soybean-powder cake, sweet red bean pie

An Aside on Eating Ethnic

As a native, local urbanite in downtown Toronto it’s impossible to appreciate ethnic food without tasting it through an emotional, intellectual and sensory lens cultivated through a lifetime of personal experience, which more often than not, has been punctuated by a plethora of multicultural interactions. That there are restaurants in the city, like kaiseki-Sakura, representing countless ethnic groups gives us ‘effortless’ exposure or access to a variety of cultures.

But this advantage also has its dangers. It’s easy to assume we know a lot more than we do about a culture because we have, literally, consumed its traditions. In an essay published in the spring 2001 issue of Gastronomica: the Journal of Food and Culture, Lisa Heldke discusses what she deems, “cultural food colonialism.” The following is a quote taken from the essay: “Just by eating ethnic we adventurers don’t’ have a claim on another culture. Neither can we pretend to understand it because we think we know how the natives eat.”

In a city where cultural food diversity is so prolific and sometimes even taken for granted, taking the time to discover a little of the history behind what we’re eating can enrich our dining experience and our personal intercultural relationships.

Photos by Mathieu Dutan, courtesy of kaiseki Sakura.