Naoto.K
In the brilliant constellation of Michelin-starred Tokyo's French-Japanese cuisine, Naoto.K is undoubtedly a less noticeable establishment, chosen for a visit on this trip due to tight scheduling — an eat-where-you-can situation.
Without the accolades of Michelin stars, no placement in the Asia's 50 Best Restaurants list, nor a feature on Tabelog's gold or silver ranks, this rather obscure French-Japanese restaurant managed to leave a touching final note on my somewhat disappointing and weary Japanese dining journey.
Naoto.K is named after its chef Naoto Kishimoto, housed in a quaint three-story building with a champagne-gold façade. Kishimoto previously helmed L'Embellir, a Tokyo French-Japanese restaurant that earned a Michelin star for over a decade. After its closure, he reopened as Naoto K, offering only eight counter seats with a small kitchen on the first floor, yet most of the cooking is done by the chef in the open kitchen at the counter.
Despite the language barrier and understanding dishes merely through intuition, the restaurant left a rather universal impression on me, just from this one meal, as if I could infer the chef’s mental processes— this restaurant resembles "the kind of restaurant every fine dining chef dreams of owning at the end of their career."
After all: French cuisine bounded by strict rules, the distant relationship between chefs and guests, the constrained dining atmosphere, the stagnant evolution of Franco-Japanese cuisine over time, and a career of a chef who, despite earning a Michelin star for over a decade, never made a breakthrough on the lists... If I were in his shoes, I too would grow weary of such a life and yearn to start anew, opening a small restaurant without the obsession over external validation, cooking in a comfortable manner, leading a more contented life.
Dinner starts promptly at 18:30, and guests, mostly local middle-aged to senior patrons aged around 45-65, arrive about 15 minutes earlier. The gentlemen are all dressed in suits with ties and pocket squares, each opting for wine pairing—likely long-term supporters of the chef.
With minimal staffing, three chefs work the counter, including the head chef, an assistant, and a pastry chef, complemented by three service staff—a sommelier, a server for dish collection, and a manager. The division of labor isn't strict, and they often help each other. Apart from some sauces, the dishes are prepared from scratch. The menu is priced at 38,500 yen, equivalent to just under 2,000 RMB, for a total of 10 dishes.
The meal starts with a display of ingredients, as there is no paper menu for the day, nor any emphasis on the so-called "blind menu"—just a tiny QR code for the day's menu printed on the mask packet. The restaurant doesn't dwell on philosophies, concepts, or show-off techniques.
First dish, "Tenryū Ayu Fry," a lightly fried young sweetfish with an icy sheen, served with a Japanese-style avocado sauce—refreshing, though the fish heads are left on, adding a slight bitterness.
Second dish, the same "Tenryū Ayu Fry," is repeated.
Third dish, tenderly boiled small squid paired with a green pepper sauce and olive oil, with a base layer of olive oil.
Fourth dish, two sizes of pigeon meat mixed with lemon, pine nuts, herbs, served with toasted bread, potato cubes, and pea pods—flavorful and interesting, offering diners various combinations to enjoy.
Fifth dish, hairy crab meat paired with a pie filled with blood pudding and jam, and foam, served on a glistening plate reminiscent of a full moon.
Sixth dish, charcoal-grilled blue eel accompanied by bamboo shoots and a medicinal sauce, plus lantern fruit.
Seventh dish, a chicken prepared similarly to "beggar's chicken," somewhat dry and not quite reaching the "chicken flavor" esteemed in Cantonese cuisine. Served with lobster pieces, crab shell, and a curry-infused broth.
Eighth dish, slightly spicy ham broth with thin noodles, similar to instant noodles but finer and more resilient.
Ninth dish, a light dessert of honeydew melon ice cream with citrus granita, quite refreshing.
The tenth dish, a mango and citrus parfait with elements of mango sticky rice (glutinous rice, coconut milk, vanilla seeds), and a sticky ice cream. Afterward, guests can enjoy a cherry mousse cake. This cake gives a homely feeling, as if visiting a friend's house for dinner.
As the meal concludes, the chef bows deeply to thank the guests for their visit and support, expressing hope for a return visit when the menu is renewed. When leaving, the chef escorts guests out, waiting at the door while I take the elevator and he uses the stairs. With a light drizzle outside, the server hands me a clear umbrella, and the chef suddenly places two origami cranes in
my palm.
Judging purely by the food, it's hard to say how stunning Naoto K is, but compared to the many so-called "hard-to-eat" French-Japanese restaurants I've tried, Naoto K indeed can be considered quite tasty and earnest. As a counter-style French-Japanese restaurant where diners use chopsticks, it certainly has its unique charm.
The restaurant may appear casual, but it upholds the dignity of fine dining in service details. The restroom is on the first floor, and the first time a server guided me there, I took the elevator down. Upon arrival, the server had hurried down the stairs and was waiting at the elevator door. During the meal, I mentioned my chopsticks were dirty and wanted a new pair; thereafter, the server often remembered to change my chopsticks.
If you happen to be in Tokyo, Naoto K is worth a visit.
