kajitsu: a place to eat your vegetables

they say march comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. well, today it came in more like a wet dog--not ferocious or particularly offensive, just kind of annoying when it jumps on you and covers you with slobber and smelly wet fur. february is not typically a precursor to spring, but this past february had more sweet days than sour and it definitely did a pretty good job standing in for the role of "transition month." february may have just pulled the wool over our eyes, but we drank that kool-aid like it was sweet sweet nectar. some of the days were practically balmy and, confused as we all were, we chalked up another one for team global warming and ordered our coffee iced.

february was not only full of freaky temps, but for me, it was also full of fun (fun-uary?). the last week in particular felt like my birthday all week long, although it was not at all my birthday or any particular occasion for that matter.  i got a healthy dose of culture with a coveted ticket to war horse at lincoln center, a fancy pre-theater dinner at bar boulud, and a spot at joe's pub to watch some amazingly talented broadway performers sing their tributes to whitney houston. also, i've had boyfriend extraordinaire, derek, to accompany me in these ventures. seriously, lucky me. but the most anticipated event of the week was dinner at east village heavyweight, kajitsu. a veritable shrine to vegetables, kajitsu is a double michelin-starred sanctuary of a restaurant serving shojin cuisine. shojin, an ancient japanese cuisine developed in buddhist monasteries, follows the buddhist principle of not taking life. the menu changes monthly and is designed according to the seasons. there are no menu choices, other than a 5-course or a 7-course tasting. there is a formidable sake list and sapporo on draft. ladies and gentleman, we have hit the mother-load.

after reading that the current chef was going to go back to japan at the end of march, i called to make a reservation. a month later, derek and i found ourselves grateful to have snagged a 5:30 reservation at the chef's counter. this turned out to be the best place to watch the chef, masato nishihara meticulously hand plate every dish himself. there was so much precision and fluidity in his movements, it felt more like watching a well-choreographed dance than watching a chef at work. one thing we noticed right away was that there no music piping into the room. we were truly there to concentrate on our food, and not give into the distractions of loud music and typical restaurant noise.

after derek and i both decided on sapporo's and the full 7-course tasting menus, we were brought our first dish: grated celery root with early spring vegetables. we soon realized that "early" meant "baby" when we noticed the petiteness of the vegetables. the flavors were light and reminiscent of the spring bounty ahead. every few bites revealed some heat from a small dollop of wasabi mixed in. it was elegant and the vegetables were sublime. demure but suggestive of what was in store for us, we relished the flavors with much anticipation.  

next up, a composed salad of fried black-eyed peas, sun-choke chips, salsify, morel mushrooms, and nori-fu. nori-fu, according to wikipedia, "is made by washing wheat flour dough with water until all the starch dissolves, leaving insoluble gluten as an elastic mass which is then cooked before being eaten." that doesn't sound great, but the taste was fairly neutral. the texture, however was starchy, satisfying, and well, glutinous. maybe not for everyone, but i enjoyed it immensely. eating this dish was a little like foraging for treasure. the crispy black-eyed peas provided an easy crunch to top the dish, but the good stuff came after a little digging. oh, morel mushrooms, so earthy, so elusive. i wish we could go steady all year round. that composition of flavors and textures: the crispy peas, the chewy fu, the meaty morels--that was  a mini masterpiece in a dish.

the next dish, which our server told us was the appetizer course was a trio of uncharted flavors for us.

we were told to eat from left to right, starting with a sake kasu soup, a salad of banana flower, bean sprouts, and bamboo skin, and finally, a fortune sushi roll with pumpkin-fu and kobacha squash. the soup, which turns out was made from the lees of sake production, had an amazingly rich flavor, reminiscent of sake, but not dominated by it. i also felt that it was the more resourceful thing i had ever eaten. i can't imagine a wine yeast soup tasting nearly as good, but it's something that should be looked into. next, the small salad siting atop a lovely (but inedible) banana leaf was a quick study in restraint of flavor, and i don't mean that pejoratively. it was subtly, crunchy, and totally satisfying for what it was. the roll, which we were told was traditionally eaten with eyes shut, was the epitome of minimalist decadence. this was not your average spicy tuna roll. the pumpkin- fu was a perfect foil for an animal protein, in that its starchiness transcended this roll from a typical vegetable maki into something wholly satisfying. every bite inspired more curiosity.

the next course involved springy house made soba noodles with a bowl of dipping sauce. the odd thing was, the sauce, which was a very tasty soy and scallion based broth, felt more like a soup, and was disproportional to the amount of noodles we were served. we were both done with our noodles long before we finished the sauce, and opted to drink the rest of the sauce out of the bowl. hey, when in rome....

along with the noodles, we were also given a miniature spice grinder which contained a special blend of 17 spices that the chef had prepared especially for this dish. this guy clearly doesn't do anything half-assed. it was about this time that i was ready for some sake. i asked for a recommendation, and our server pointed to one, noting that the chef recommended it for this month. i loved the specificity of that statement, knowing how much though and care was put into every detail of the experience. chefs' choice was sasaichi junmai yamanashi, described as  "very smooth and well balanced, using excellent underground water from mt. fuji." yes, please.

*this pic from here

finally, along came the entree, the piece de resistance. it was a medley of colors and textures. intriguing in appearance, less so in taste. there were leeks that had been grilled in a banana leaf that unwound like papardelle noodles when unwrapped. there were steamed turnips and taro grilled and served in its skin. two sauces accompanied: one ponzu and one a miso paste served on a thin slab of wood. there was fennel topped with gomadofu and fennel prawns. overall, the dish was a delight to eye; a perfect picture of organized chaos that served as a convincing argument for anyone who doubts that cooking can be an art form. unfortunately, derek and i both agreed that as a whole we felt like there was generally one note, and that note was mushy. i was surprised that after experiencing so much contrast in flavor and texture in the previous dishes, this one dish felt monotonous in comparison. if i was on iron chef judging this dish i would have given high marks for presentation and creativity, but lower marks for taste. a good dish none the less, but not one that surpassed it's predecessors. tough crowd, i know.

and then a bowl of rice arrived with seven vegetable tempura and umeboshi plum, because we were clearly still starving (no). there was a lovely assortment of pickles that came along side, and despite being stuffed, we persevered and conquered the rice, especially enjoying the briny bitterness of the plum mixed with the oils of the vegetables and the rice.

dessert arrived and we were happy to see it was a single serving of mochi stuffed with white bean taste and basil. to me, this was dessert perfection: herbaceous, unfussy, with just a touch of sweetness. i loved this.

small sugar candies appeared, handmade in tokyo along with a cup of matcha tea the chef himself had been preparing for us. it was strong and reawakened our senses and reminded us that our night was not not over. it was liquid courage to  pry ourselves from our stools and trade the tranquility of kujitsu for the east village air. after all, it was only 7:30pm.