Chef Kei Kobayashi is speaking his mind — something he says it took moving to France to learn.
Less than 24 hours after he became the first ever Japanese cook to win the maximum three Michelin stars in France, the phones are ringing off the hook at his Paris restaurant, Kei.
The last of the lunchtime diners are skipping out of his minimalist dining room not far from the Louvre, grinning from ear to ear.
Photo: AFP
They have just eaten a piece of history, and at 58 euros (US$63) for a set lunch, a bargain into the bag.
Kobayashi is holding forth in his clinically clean kitchen as his small team scurry around him.
“Japanese people are usually very quiet. But you cannot survive in France like that,” he said.
Photo: AP
The dozen or so other Japanese chefs who have been making waves in the rarefied world of French haute cuisine over the last few years are usually meekness incarnate.
They bow, say a few humble halting words of thanks and are off.
Not Kobayashi. The first thing that the 42-year-old said after getting his third star was how difficult and demanding he was.
With his gelled bleached blond hair, there is something of the showman about the young blade who readily admits to driving his cooks ferociously hard.
But it was not always so, he insisted, claiming France has changed him.
‘I SAY WHAT I MEAN’
“I am direct now. Like the French, I say what I mean,” he said.
“I am a very difficult guy,” he added, as he barked out an order in his small but perfectly designed kitchen. “Working with me means lots of stress. I watch and check everything.”
“Compared to a French chef” — who are not renowned for being touchy-feely — “I am probably more difficult,” he smiled.
But Kobayashi was careful not to ruffle feathers when asked if he and other young Japanese were beating the French at their own game and in their own back garden.
“France has accepted us and given us a place, so I thank France,” he said, adding that the Japanese cooks have been trained in the French tradition for nearly 150 years.
And indeed, it was watching a documentary about the nouvelle cuisine pioneer Alain Chapel that inspired Kobayashi to follow his father — a chef specialising in traditional Japanese kaiseki cuisine — into the kitchen.
Like his compatriot Yosuke Suga — who topped the La Liste’s ranking of the world’s best restaurants this year with his tiny Tokyo table, Sugalab, and who is only a few months his senior — Kobayashi decided to learn at the feet of his French heroes.
While some French gastronomes have implied that Kobayashi’s restaurant was not quite grand enough for the culinary holy grail of three stars, even the Michelin guide’s worst enemy believes its inspectors got it right.
French chef Marc Veyrat, who lost his third star last year and took Michelin to court in the notorious “Cheddargate” case, tipped his toque to him.
CRITICS ‘TRANSPORTED’
“I say ‘Bravo!’,” Veyrat said. “It’s great that people like him are coming here.”
Kobayashi, who was born in Nagano, opened his Paris restaurant nine years ago with his wife Chikako after working under a series of legendary French three-star chefs including Alain Ducasse, one of his mentors.
His pastry chef Toshiya Takatsuka — who has also been making a name for himself in France — said he decided to move to Paris to work under Kobayashi after eating at Kei in 2013.
“I could immediately feel the spirit of the chef, the concentration — everything was so absolutely right,” he said.
Working with him, however, is no bed of roses, he admitted.
“He puts you under the maximum pressure. He always tells the truth, he never hides things. He says what he thinks — there is no filter,” 35-year-old Takatsuka added.
“But I think he is harder on himself than he is on others... He has thought everything through in the restaurant, as he keeps saying, it’s a theater.”
And its star is Kobayashi’s cooking, with the dining room’s sparse grey interior designed to point up his startling creations like his “Garden of crunchy vegetables” which transported the Michelin inspectors.
When asked why there were no pictures on the walls, he replied, “My cuisine provides the necessary colour.” As Kobayashi mixes the salad of up to 40 ingredients covered in a citrus mousse, “in which every spoonful has a different taste,” it’s hard to disagree.
The canonical shot of an East Asian city is a night skyline studded with towering apartment and office buildings, bright with neon and plastic signage, a landscape of energy and modernity. Another classic image is the same city seen from above, in which identical apartment towers march across the city, spilling out over nearby geography, like stylized soldiers colonizing new territory in a board game. Densely populated dynamic conurbations of money, technological innovation and convenience, it is hard to see the cities of East Asia as what they truly are: necropolises. Why is this? The East Asian development model, with
June 16 to June 22 The following flyer appeared on the streets of Hsinchu on June 12, 1895: “Taipei has already fallen to the Japanese barbarians, who have brought great misery to our land and people. We heard that the Japanese occupiers will tax our gardens, our houses, our bodies, and even our chickens, dogs, cows and pigs. They wear their hair wild, carve their teeth, tattoo their foreheads, wear strange clothes and speak a strange language. How can we be ruled by such people?” Posted by civilian militia leader Wu Tang-hsing (吳湯興), it was a call to arms to retake
This is a deeply unsettling period in Taiwan. Uncertainties are everywhere while everyone waits for a small army of other shoes to drop on nearly every front. During challenging times, interesting political changes can happen, yet all three major political parties are beset with scandals, strife and self-inflicted wounds. As the ruling party, the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) is held accountable for not only the challenges to the party, but also the nation. Taiwan is geopolitically and economically under threat. Domestically, the administration is under siege by the opposition-controlled legislature and growing discontent with what opponents characterize as arrogant, autocratic
When Lisa, 20, laces into her ultra-high heels for her shift at a strip club in Ukraine’s Kharkiv, she knows that aside from dancing, she will have to comfort traumatized soldiers. Since Russia’s 2022 invasion, exhausted troops are the main clientele of the Flash Dancers club in the center of the northeastern city, just 20 kilometers from Russian forces. For some customers, it provides an “escape” from the war, said Valerya Zavatska — a 25-year-old law graduate who runs the club with her mother, an ex-dancer. But many are not there just for the show. They “want to talk about what hurts,” she