Rice, Noodle, Fish (33 page)

It makes for fine late-night dining, to be sure, but the whole scene has me chewing on a few important questions as I eat. How, in a country where I've never seen lamb before, did Jingisukan conquer Sapporo? Why are there only women cooking this most manly of meats? And what takes the stink of mutton out of cotton and denim?

But as the night inches forward, as the smell soaks into my clothes and the beer into my blood, the barnyard funk of mutton stinging my eyes, the questions slowly disappear. Japanese diners, American music, Mongol myth. There's only one answer that makes sense: it's a Hokkaido thing.

 

Shikoku, like Hokkaido, is an island filled with covert restaurants of staggering quality, but none more isolated and awesome than Tokiya, a soba shrine perched above a gurgling river tucked high in the mountains of Kochi Prefecture. Lunch—seasonal tempura and beautiful handmade noodles—feels like a feast in a treehouse.

(Matt Goulding)

(Michael Magers, lead photographer)

A wooden stand found in a rice field deep on the Noto Peninsula in Ishikawa Prefecture, the family-run Malga Gelato stand specializes in flavors from the immediate surroundings: sea salt produced fron Noto's coastal waters, persimmon from a nearby orchard, and sake lees, the rice pressings used to make Japan's beverage of choice, from a small producer down the road. The most radical flavor,
ishiri
, based on Noto's famed fish sauce, may take the concept of local a step too far, but bless Malga for trying.

(Matt Goulding)

(Nathan Thornburgh)

(Matt Goulding)

Niseko in the rural reaches of Hokkaido makes for an unlikely breadbasket, but the area teems with bakeries that would challenge the best in Paris. None more unlikely than Boulangerie Jin—so deeply removed from this already far-flung community that you will feel lost until the moment you stumble onto this country home and see the wisps of smoke rising from the wood-burning oven out back. The husband-and-wife team learned the art of bread in Paris and now produce flaky layered pastries; dark, dense, crusty brown breads; and a baguette so yeasty and complex that you may hope to stay forever.

(Michael Magers, lead photographer)

Restaurant Seisuke, located on Sado Island off the northwestern coast of Japan, is run by Kuniaki Osaki, who channeled his Michelin-starred restaurant experience into one of Japan's tiniest and most isolated eateries. Located up a winding mountain road and boasting only one table, Seisuke is really an extension of Kuniaki's home, with his wife at his side and his kids peeking out from behind the kitchen. The food is a seamless mix of East and West: blowtorched yellowtail with yuzu chili paste, roasted whitefish with local mushrooms, and a plate of ripe cheeses served with a selection of esoteric European wines.

(Michael Magers, lead photographer)

(Matt Goulding)

After training at Kyoto's top kaiseki temples, Furatani Tadamitsu opened Obana an hour from the fray of the old city in the quiet town of Shigaraki. At a beautiful cedar countertop, he serves fresh figs bathed in a thick sesame sauce, a first-rate tempura of tilefish and seasonal vegetables, and a stunning rendition of roast salmon marinated in sake, soy, and mirin. He may only have a few customers a day at times, but that's the whole point. “Beauty operates on a different level out here.”

Naoshima is best known for its esoteric art, the small island in the Seto Inland Sea transformed into a living, breathing exhibition. But beyond the Tadao Ando–designed museums, giant glass pumpkins, and funky village installations, you'll find a superlative bowl of noodles at Udon Yamamoto. Specializing in Sanuki-style udon from nearby Takamatsu, Yamamoto-san uses both hands and feet to knead the noodles, then massages them in ice water right after cooking to deliver an al dente chew that eludes all but the best udon
shokunin
—an art form in its own right.

(Matt Goulding)