Meguro Emperor (Adult Only)

Northern Europe and Japan share comparable climates and have cultivated similar lore in fermentation. Building on his experience in Denmark, the chef cross-fertilised the fermentation cultures of the two countries to create a cuisine bursting with originality. The item simply labelled ‘Tsukemono’ or ‘Pickles’ is a traditional element of Japanese cuisine. Mackerel marinated in vinegar is mated with handmade miso. Ojiya, a kind of rice gruel, derives inspiration from fermented crucian carp sushi, a hometown-cooking favourite. The theme of ‘fermentation’ harmonises avant-garde with tradition.

The name derives from an image of a Jizo, the guardian spirit who looks over children, which the chef received from a Buddhist temple. The character for ‘sushi’ is an unusual choice, harking back to the fermented fish from which modern nigirizushi originated. The chef is deeply interested in literature and the classics. As snacks were not part of a sushi shop’s menu in the days of food stalls, the chef presents the range of toppings available before starting to form his sushi. Gizzard shad is moulded in the shape of the Edo-era Katsuyama hairstyle. In a relic of traditional practice, shrimp on

Ensui means ‘flame and water’, celebrating the two starting points of Japanese cuisine: charcoal flame and water for soup stock. The pride of the house is its stew. Using water brought all the way from Kagoshima, dashi stock is drawn from aged kombu and high-grade bonito flakes. The soup ingredients are suffused with the aroma of charcoal, completing the theme. With the practiced hands of a craftsman, the chef weaves the soup ingredients and the soup broth into a harmonious whole. A natural curiosity drives him to scour producing regions for the best ingredients. A personal journey expressed t

The chef has devoted his life to the path of the tempura craftsman. He watches his pot in silence, focusing on the sound of the oil. Frying his tempura on high heat, he teases out moisture to concentrate the flavour. Creative flourishes are avoided, letting the deliciousness of ingredients in season speak for itself. Batter thickness and flame heat are continually adjusted to produce a light and airy tempura. A traditional Japanese tea-house carpenter created the interior, transforming it into a graceful space.

The pet theory here is that French cuisine does not add but multiplies: dishes are the product, not the sum, of their ingredients. The speciality is an espuma of sea urchin and Jerusalem artichoke, which is replaced with onion during summer. Food from sea and mountain mix, aiming at just the right temperature to melt in the mouth. To ensure consistency, vegetables are harvested from the chef’s own garden. Financier, served after the meal, offers a wry nod to the restaurant’s name, with a play on both the pastry and the financier as one who benefits from gold, echoing the alchemist’s quest to t

‘Sanwa’ means ‘three-part harmony’: between producers, chefs and guests. The menu lists producers by name, linking them to guests through the chef. Prix fixe service begins with dry-cured ham and gnocco fritto. Meat dishes include venison and beef, both char-grilled. The meal ends with a pasta dish, as per convention. Sanwa exerts special effort to make each dish impressive, so the number of main ingredients is limited to three—a three-part harmony on the plate.

Insatiable curiosity about all things tempura is this restaurant’s driving force. The chef blazes his own trail, unencumbered by convention. In a one-of-a-kind technique, the chef prepares his batter using two types of water as well as liquid nitrogen. One menu item features chilled sea urchin on deep-fried perilla leaf, creating a contrast of cold and hot. Inventive dishes are slipped in between menu items, varying the pace. The chef takes pride in offering an extensive range of tempura pieces, letting his imagination run free.