Quintessence
Quintessence, the prototype of "Tokyo Inn," has been a Michelin three-star for over a decade, prompting a special trip to Tokyo.
I concentrated on several of the most renowned Japanese-French restaurants in Tokyo. In the realm of Japanese-French cuisine, adorned with accolades and stars, compared to China's currently somewhat desolate fusion restaurants, topping at one Michelin star.
What's the difference? In truth, those Asian-ranked, two- or three-starred French restaurants in Japan, in terms of dining, I don’t believe have any overwhelming advantage over famous Chinese restaurants; the gradient difference isn’t clear. If you include ambiance and service, perhaps Chinese fine dining is even stronger (though, admittedly, they can't compete in price; Japanese restaurants are a cut cheaper).
I believe the main gaps are in two areas: time and communication. Time means: When did you start doing this? Is anyone else doing this alongside you? How long have you persisted? The historical status of pioneers versus followers cannot be compared, even if their outputs eventually converge. The fusion of Chinese and Western cuisine is a natural process with its own sparks, but Tokyo's French restaurants started fusion earlier, proposing concepts with more originality.
Communication deserves a detailed discussion. Fine dining can be compared to a female celebrity. The deliciousness of a restaurant, like a female star's appearance, has a "threshold," but once beyond it, it’s often debatable who's better. The primary essence of fine dining is communication; fame nurtures restaurants, as they say in celebrity circles, "popularity nourishes."
Photography wasn't allowed in the main hall, so I'll recount the dishes from memory. Unlike many fusion restaurants, Q has signatures, the most famous of course being the sheep's milk bavarois. Many fusion restaurants today change their menus too quickly, operating for years without a signature dish known far and wide, which is indeed risky. The original sheep's milk bavarois truly stands out from the imitations I've tasted in several restaurants, by at least two levels. Others feel like a pudding-like dessert, but at Q, it's more like a dish. Richer, with more pronounced olive oil and salt flavors, even the fresh lilies are thicker, the sheep milk’s flavor subdued, the creamy sensation prominent. The paired wine, meticulously chosen, was the only memorable drink in the wine pairing that evening.
Q's menu consists of two appetizers, bread, four starters, two main courses (one fish, one meat), an optional cheese cart, and four desserts, all for just 33,000 yen, or a little over 1,600 yuan, roughly the starting price for a Michelin-starred Western meal in China. The wine pairing isn't expensive either, at 22,000 yen, but each glass is just a small sip, about the amount you’d get when a restaurant lets you taste the wine before ordering.
The appetizers were a biscuit base stacked with raw fish slices, sprinkled with chives, topped with a few roasted walnuts. The cold herbal fruit soup contained citrus and cucumber dices with a slightly bitter taste, complemented by herbs, signaling a transition from spring to summer.
Bread was ordinary.
The first starter, the famed sheep's milk bavarois, has already been mentioned, so I won’t repeat it.
The second starter, bamboo shoot tempura, was piping hot with juice, topped with a vegetable dice similar to dumpling filling.
The third starter, white asparagus, wasn't boiled but lightly battered and fried, maintaining a tender and firm state, served with duck liver red wine sauce. I usually dislike white asparagus for its strong vegetable taste. Here, it emphasized the "texture" rather than the "natural flavor," which I thought was very well executed.
The fourth starter, "rice cake," was made from a South American rice variety, creating a soft, rice-flavored cake, topped first with tender squid strips, then sea urchin, and finally, herbs.
The first main course was flounder, served with a white wine and vegetable green sauce, garnished with green asparagus and crispy potato squares. The potato squares were well fried, soft inside and crispy outside.
The second main, Wagyu beef, came with a cherry wine sauce, reminiscent of sweet and sour sauce, with a charred outer layer, abundant fat, but could become cloying with more consumption.
The four desserts felt a bit like retail assortments and wouldn’t be considered complete desserts in domestic restaurants. They included chocolate granita, fresh strawberries coated with snowy whipped cream (hiding melted candies and biscuit crumbs), sea salt-flavored ice cream sprayed with seawater, and a French honey jam tart.
Compared to other Japanese-French restaurants I’ve experienced, Q definitely has the demeanor of a seasoned Michelin big brother, more international (or foreigner-friendly), incorporating Japanese elements that international guests (especially judges) enjoy, without insisting on
expressing highly personal and difficult-to-empathize elements like "my childhood, my hometown, my unforgettable travels."
The most memorable dishes of the evening were the sheep's milk bavarois and the white asparagus. The rest, while not particularly memorable, formed a coherent set menu, apt for "external cultural expression." While not stunning, it was classic and shouldn’t set overly high expectations.
The service that evening left a lasting impression for three reasons: Firstly, the French manager’s fluent Japanese, which should make any foreign manager in a high-end restaurant in China blush; secondly, all front-of-house staff were Japanese men, including the French manager, highly similar in height, hairstyle, even the position of their dangling bangs; lastly, while the service wasn’t too detailed (for instance, breadcrumbs weren’t cleared until dessert), the technique used by the male waiter to clean the breadcrumbs was quite impressive, lifted up rather than just swept to the side.
