RyuGin Tokyo

RyuGin has long been a Michelin three-starred establishment and is one of Japan’s most internationally famous high-end restaurants. I didn’t visit during its heyday, but now it’s nothing more than a shell of its former glory, a place that’s lost its soul, purely "business Kaiseki."

I typically don’t research restaurants in advance, preferring the surprise that comes with a blind dining experience. Thus, upon arrival, I encountered a stark contrast between imagination and reality. After booking, the restaurant sent a four-page notice detailing numerous rules, including no luggage, no phone calls, no adjusting the pace of the meal, no photography with cameras, and no standing or leaving your seat to take photos. Such regulations filled me with anticipation and a sense of security before the visit, as they are meant to ensure a comfortable experience for all patrons, reflecting the restaurant's dignity.

Thus, I imagined RyuGin to be a hidden, elegantly styled establishment with a strong Japanese character. That image shattered when I arrived at its location next to an office building atop a food mall in Ginza. The dining experience only compounded the disappointment, with not a single enjoyable dish, all framework with no substance, leaving me utterly speechless.

The menu is divided into nine sections.

The first, "Beginning with a variety of sensations," aims to engage multiple senses through a combination of seasonal ingredients, aromas, temperatures, and textures. This section features three dishes that showcase Japanese seafood:

- First, a sea shellfish made into tempura, paired with wasabi, beside a shellfish soup.

- Second, young eel sashimi with a drop of chili oil on hot sesame sauce, leaving a Sichuan peppercorn aftertaste.

- Third, a luminescent squid, each portion containing roe.

This opening trio's success heavily relies on the diner’s interpretation. Conceptually, it reflects local flavors with three distinct textures and temperatures, making it a conceptually sound presentation. But flavor-wise, it's unremarkable and overly salty.

The second section, "Taste of healing," features a display of ingredients followed by a soup they call a "Treasure pot," with shark fin, soft-shelled turtle, spiral shellfish, and herring, plus rutabaga and ginger for the broth. The soup tastes like typical shellfish broth, robust in ocean flavor, but it seems to throw in expensive ingredients without a clear focus.

The third section, "Message from the coast of Japan," consists of a stonefish sashimi and a French-style scallop. By this point, the mediocrity and lack of exciting rhythms became apparent, with a continued strong, salty flavor from the opening seafood courses.

The fourth section, "Red and white," refers to lobster (red) and white miso, garnished with tender green peas. A whole lobster, partially shelled and slightly cooked to a runny center, was just okay. The ingredients were generous (RyuGin isn’t cheap, costing about 50,000-60,000 yen per person), but lobster is tastier stir-fried with green onions.

The fifth section, "Binchotan," features blackthroat seaperch grilled over white charcoal, served with horseradish sauce on a bed of cabbage – it’s more about the presentation.

The sixth section, "Tonight’s meat dish," offers shabushabu-style Sanuki Wagyu, an olive-fed black-haired Wagyu that was once considered the world's rarest beef, selling for nearly 2,000 yuan per pound. But the taste was unremarkable, delicate but lacking in beefy richness, and it’s hard to justify the premium price.

The seventh section, "The country of rice plants," is simply chicken kamameshi, accompanied by chrysanthemum tofu soup (notably rough in knife skills compared to Huaiyang cuisine apprentices) and spring vegetables. This pot of rice was actually quite fragrant.

The eighth section, "Lusciousness end of the Feast," featured yogurt ice cream with strawberry sauce. The dessert was unexceptional, perhaps more fitting as a finale to a less expensive course.

The ninth section, "Sincerely for you," concluded with traditionally whisked matcha.

Often, the more we emphasize and desire acknowledgment in external communication, the more we might lack it internally. And this final section's title, "Sincerity," is what I believe RyuGin currently lacks the most. I referred to the restaurant as purely "business Kaiseki" because, in a business environment, sincerity isn't necessary as long as the rules are followed.

I'm unaware of what changes RyuGin has undergone in the years following its peak fame, but now it’s just an empty shell, devoid of any genuine feeling, with many staff members who seem to smile only superficially, not even bothering to pretend.

Writing detailed reviews of prominent Japanese

restaurants is something I do carefully, especially since the past three years of travel restrictions have left a void of up-to-date and valuable reviews on the Chinese internet, with most information stalled in 2018/19. Back then, many felt that everything in Tokyo was delightful, but based on recent visits by food-loving friends who traveled to Japan, the views on Tokyo's high-end dining have been less than enthusiastic. I’m inclined to believe that the next world-class City of fine dining is right here in China.