The view facing NW from the 31st Floor of Park Hotel in Shiodome is of the red radio tower and skyscrapers in every direction, and although the harbor is behind me, I can see in the distance a vague, dinosaur like shape, which must be Fuji.
Arriving late in the afternoon from Kyoto on the efficient Shinkansen, it was a dash to the hotel in order to interview the head chef as well as the head bartender. Both were extremely informative, the former more than the latter (who sported a great Elvis-like coif), and of course I learned a lot. Chiefly, the broths in Tokyo don’t use kombu from Hokkaido and instead rely upon small fish, seasonality is practically a religion, the rules of kaiseki are well defined, and the chefs share knowledge as a virtual guild.
Below the roar of JR trains.
Last night I went to the 7th Floor of the old Maranuchi Building across from Tokyo Station. Filled with chic restaurants. OK, it’s not the most memorable food, but I have to say that my Italian-accented meal with Heartland beer at Rigoletto in a crowd of the seemingly happy, well-heeled young was a nice antidote to the seriousness of dining that I’ve been participating in the past couple of weeks.
After all, restaurants are not just about the food.