● What inspired you to pursue a career in cooking?

It wasn’t a special restaurant or anything, but while I was in university, I worked part-time at a Japanese restaurant. I enjoyed being part of the community there, all while boiling udon, frying tempura, and plating dishes. After graduation, I hadn’t decided on a career path, so I decided to pursue cooking. That’s when I left Saitama to attend a culinary school in Tokyo for a year.

● You previously worked as a sous chef at L’Effervescence, a renowned French restaurant in Aoyama. How did you come to work there?

When I was in culinary school, I came across a brochure that featured a stylish and impressive restaurant and it caught my eye. That restaurant was CITABRIA. I started working there, and about a year and a half later, Chef Shinobu Namae (now Executive Chef at L’Effervescence) returned from France, and the restaurant transitioned into L’Effervescence. So, I didn’t actually apply for L’Effervescence—it was simply that the restaurant I was already working at became L’Effervescence.

● What kind of work did you do at L’Effervescence?

Although I had attended culinary school, I was just starting out in cooking career. Rather than really cooking anything, my tasks primarily involved preparing appetizers and other simpler tasks, as I gradually built up my skills.

● Were there any surprising experiences during your time there?

The restaurant transitioning to L’Effervescence brought about major changes in how we worked. However, the most shocking part was that the common language in the kitchen switched from Japanese to French, pretty much overnight. Everything from table numbers to ingredients and cooking techniques had to be learned in French. My colleagues had experience in French cuisine and adapted quickly, but I found it quite challenging. I would even secretly jot down words spoken by senior chefs and look them up on my phone in the storage room!

● Do you think Chef Namae had a specific intention in introducing French as the common language?

French culinary techniques often serve as the global standard for gastronomy. Learning French allows chefs to navigate kitchens anywhere in the world, so perhaps that was part of his reasoning.

● Did working in such an environment change you as a chef?

At one point, Chef Namae asked me to create a dish featuring foie gras. It was the first time I was tasked with designing a dish on my own. Creating that one plate wasn’t just about making something delicious—I had to build a coherent story that tied together seasonal Japanese ingredients and the producers I had connections with. When Chef Namae praised my concept, it was a turning point. He guided me to refine the dish, saying, “I’ll help you reach the goal, so let’s see it through together.” This experience taught me that cooking isn’t just about following recipes; it’s about thinking creatively, which makes it truly exciting.

● Did cooking become more enjoyable to you after that experience?

Absolutely. I began paying attention to how my ideas were received by customers and started feeling genuine joy from their reactions. That broadened my perspective, shifting my focus to more intuitive cooking. It also made me think about food even outside the kitchen—like spotting ingredients while dining out and imagining how I could use them in my dishes.

● Many associate you with the modern Vietnamese restaurant An Di in Gaienmae. How did you end up there?

I was approached by Motohiro Ogoshi, who handled wine pairings at L’Effervescence. During his travels in Vietnam, he discovered the fascinating pairing of Vietnamese herbs, spices, and wine, which sparked the idea of refining this concept in Tokyo. That’s how I got involved.

● Was the idea of “Modern Vietnamese” part of the concept from the start?

Initially, the concept was more about “Asian cuisine and wine.” Over time, while incorporating techniques I learned at L’Effervescence, An Di naturally took shape. Back in 2018, there weren’t many restaurants like it. Ethnic cuisine was often served in a local style, so I think pairing creative ethnic dishes with wine felt refreshing to people.

● Where do you find inspiration for your dishes?

As I mentioned earlier, it’s often outside the kitchen. During my time at An Di, I frequented a nearby farmers’ market every week and even visited farms. Talking with farmers and observing their work filled my mental archive with ideas, often leading to spontaneous menu creations. Seasonal scents and visuals at the market also played a significant role in shaping my dishes. A chance discovery when wondering the markets could lead to a new dish or menu.

● After leaving An Di, you traveled for some time, correct?

Yes, I visited Yunnan Province in China, as well as Vietnam, San Francisco, and various places in Japan like Hokkaido and Saga. These travels allowed me to immerse myself not just in seasonal ingredients but also in the tools, cultures, and lifestyles of each place, offering invaluable experiences.

● Are there any experiences that stand out from your travels?

In Yunnan, I explored mushrooms and tea culture, but eventually, I reached an area further south called Xishuangbanna. This region borders Laos, Myanmar, and Vietnam, where there’s a mix of ethnic minorities. This area blends diverse food cultures, and the markets were a spectacle with hundreds of mushroom varieties. I also shared meals with locals, gaining firsthand insight into their culinary traditions. Such experiences help me weave compelling stories into my dishes.

● Sharing the story in advance can spark unexpected interest among customers.

Exactly! For example, I once stayed at a mountain temple in Korea to make kimchi. But if I suddenly started offering kimchi at a Vietnamese restaurant it might seem odd to people. So I think sharing the story and context about a dish can help eliminate preconceptions and also pique interest. Respecting and experiencing the food cultures of other countries is key to incorporating them authentically into dishes.

● In fashion and music, the term “cultural appropriation” is often used, but food can also be easily replicated without fully understanding its origins.  I’m sure there are many people who have eaten Japanese food overseas and wondered, “what is this?”

That’s true – food can often be recreated to some extent, especially in terms of appearance. However, that’s precisely why I want to fully digest and respect the culture and context behind it before presenting it as my own creation. Otherwise, simply putting a dish on the menu and having people eat it feels like a form of one-way communication. Perhaps there needs to be more of a mutual exchange between the chef and the diner.

● I think there’s some truth to that. You’ve moved from Gaienmae to Nihonbashi Kabutocho. Has the change in location changed the way you communicate with your customers?

Previously, when I served course meals, I could focus on pursuing the kind of cuisine I wanted to create, and the customers would follow along. However, now that I operate primarily during lunch hours, the way in which I present dishes and the clientele base are entirely different. The clientele also changes between weekdays and weekends, so I’ve been experimenting to find the right balance. Pricing is another factor, as is the speed of service; I need to prepare food quickly so customers can return quickly from their work break. Even with these constraints, I actively look for opportunities to communicate, whether that’s explaining the story behind a dish whilst taking an order or clearing plates.

● What kind of menu are you currently offering?

We offer four types of pho and one type of chè. In addition to the classic “Pho with Katsuobushi Broth,” I feature seasonal options like “Tomato and Kaffir Lime Pho” that incorporate ingredients suited to spring and summer or autumn and winter. A limited-edition menu item is the “Yunnan Mushroom Pho,” which uses an abundance of morels, porcini, and himematsutake mushrooms sourced from Yunnan Province. I strive to highlight the distinct characteristics of each ingredient while aiming for flavor combinations that are unexpected yet not entirely unfamiliar.

● When eating your pho, one can sense the rhythm and changing flavors and aromas throughout the meal.

I recommend starting with the broth as it is, without adding anything, to fully appreciate the natural flavors of the ingredients. Then, you can enhance the experience by adding herbs or other condiments. This way, the dish remains exciting and enjoyable until the very last bite. I also like the open and airy atmosphere of this restaurant, which resembles the fluid and blurred boundaries of a Vietnamese street stall amidst greenery in the city. It feels perfectly in tune with the idea of enjoying pho and chè before heading back out into the city.

● What new challenges or goals do you have as a chef?

I’m still exploring the concept for my future restaurant, but I’d like to create a place that focuses entirely on à la carte dishes rather than courses. With an à la carte menu, I can use seasonal ingredients that might not fit into a course structure. At An Di, I sometimes found myself unable to incorporate certain ingredients, like passion fruit, into the course menu. When I think about how many more times the seasons will come and go in the rest of my life as a chef, I want to make sure I get every opportunity to use every seasonal ingredient in my cooking.

● Course menus tend to follow a set direction dictated by the restaurant, but with à la carte, customers have more freedom to choose.

Courses are a well-refined system. They elevate the quality of the dishes, minimize food waste, and make it easier to plan revenue targets. However, if I could create a relationship that’s more in step with the customer, dining might become even more enjoyable. In countries with mature restaurant cultures, diners often have their own opinions and engage in a mutual relationship with the chef. Building such a dynamic could create an environment where both the chefs and the diners find even more joy in the experience. I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.