The Man In The Elevator.
How to Be a Food Reviewer Pt 3.
He spoke to us, probably because he heard us speaking Japanese to each other.
The new tenant in the apartment block, holding a bag of instant noodles.
“You're Hana-chan? My daughter is also Hana-chan, but she's a teenager now,” he said.
“Kazuki desu,” he introduced himself.
I did not know which was absurder, that Kazuki from Kazuki's was my neighbour, or the chef-owner of a two-hat establishment's preferred instant noodles was Nissin’s Chikin Ramen.
That was 2020.
After a series of blocking the elevator while they were in a rush, buzzing my door when he'd forgotten his keys, the awkward greetings during a fire alarm evacuation, I found out he's from Akita; while his wife Saori is from Fukuoka (like my wife). They live in Daylesford, and he is renting this place to avoid the daily commute. The three kids love to visit the ‘city’ during weekends.
Fun fact - Pam from
has previously worked with Kazuki. Australia the island is huge, but Australia the population is not.Fun fact two - I was shooting for the Court of Master Sommeliers last year. Haruna who took out the highest score / certified sommelier Dux award, was the som at Kazuki’s.
I knew I had to talk to him for this newsletter just to complete the social circle jerk.
But he texted me first.
After four years, Chika and I finally had lunch at Kazuki's.
French is not my thing.
All I know of Kazuki was he opened a successful restaurant in Daylesford, moved to Lygon Street in 2018, gained two hats almost immediately with his technique obtained from France Soir and Lakehouse, drawing inspiration from Japan, with Australian ingredients.
Our first ever fine dining experience was at Vue De Monde, FOURTEEN years ago, but that was 'Australian' French, or 'peak foam' French as I'd like to remember it.
Every Michelin restaurant we tried in Japan since was Spanish, code word for ‘the chef has just returned from El Bulli'.
And I’m too old (or young?) to understand France Soir, or Entrecôte.
But that doesn't mean I can't learn.
The blessing of having hats is that you're automatically lumped with the other hat-owners. People will go ‘this place is like Attica, Amaru, Brae, Minamishima, Flower Drum!’
Great.
It's also a curse, because you're lumped with the other hat-owners, like Attica, Amaru, Brae, Minamishima, Flower Drum.
Great.
If I hate those, I'll hate you too.
It will cost a week's wage, more if you add babysitters, and I have to dress up. The time is wasted if I don't like the food. Time to binge-watch a show while eating pizza doused with ice cream in PJs.
I like the one hat / macaron restaurants.
They’re like the bronze winners in the Olympics - happy to be here.
Three stars are the gold medalists, and almost every gold medalists are entitled assholes or immature brats. It's hard for them to accept that they're not the best.
The two's, the middle child, I feel the most for them.
Either bitter from losing by inches, seconds - elements out of their control (how did I know you did not like the colour of our hand soap), or by the unexpected burden(I was happy with one star, why did you have to upgrade me to two?)
There were certain things I'd never ‘get’ fourteen years ago.
The beetroot, tuna, and caraway seed entree.
Thanks to the Sunday vegetable box, I have recently made beetroot in the kitchen (wrapped in foil, oven for an hour, boom), toasted caraway seeds when making Rupal's prawn pulao, and tasted tuna sashimi from Uminono.
All the flavours clicked, like snippets of reels forming into a movie.
The flower petals were beautiful, but all I did was geeking internally ‘am I finally understanding the vocabulary? Am I an adult now?’
Kazuki wouldn't have known.
Let me rewind to the starting finger-snacks. The smoke eel, the satsuma age (fishcake) and bottarga, the rabbit spring rolls, the chicken liver ... Chika who was usually anti-oyster, enjoyed the shiso and acidity from finger lime. It was a strong opening with a clear theme. French, Japanese, Australia.
Their social media and website do no justice to the interior.
If you've been to any restaurants along Lygon Street you'd be familiar with the ‘long Victorian house, bathroom on the 2nd floor’ floor plan. Every time I walk up the stairs - the Vietnamese, the Thai, the Indonesians restaurants, I pray. I know they’re there, I just pray not to see the rats.
It's not that Kazuki has created a ‘nice’ space, it's the fact that he made it possible along Lygon Street.
To the main - lamb cutlet with saikyo miso eggplant, pumpkin puree, crispy kale, Chika said “eggplant is like your miso eggplant, kale is like your crispy kale.”
“And lamb cutlets and pumpkin soup are Hana's favourite,” I reminded her.
“Also, truffle and ‘green’ oil.”
It was our family on a plate.
Kazuki wouldn't have known.
The Hapuka fish, winter melon with abalone was very 'Chinese' for me. It hit the right note. Chika and I reminisce on the time we went to Atami, also fourteen years ago, and did not know how to even appreciate abalone (we ate it whole like mussel rather than slice it like any normal person would).
The biggest surprise was the nori butter that came with the house-made bread rolls. So easy, once again, French, Japanese Australia.
We asked for seconds and why he didn't just sell it.
We learned new French - Deliche de Bourgogne, which translates to 'triple cream brie on crack'.
I don't know what he did to it, the cheese came out like ice cream. The sweetness of the fig jam and the crunchiness from the granola and pomegranate completely stole the limelight from the actual dessert.
Like French food, cheese isn't usually my thing either, but I now have another cheese to look out for in Victoria Market: Mimolette for hard cheese, and the ‘delight of Burgundy’ for soft.
Eating is sustenance, put that in the 'necessity' basket.
Fine dining, is culture, and it belongs in the 'art' basket.
There has to be a story on every plate, and ‘story’ is accompanied by subjectivity.
Not everyone gets it, and that's the risk of art.
Have you been to a Chinese restaurant in Japan?
Sweet and sour pork, green peppers and beef, mapo tofu, dumplings and fried rice. As tasty and comforting as it sounds, there is no risk involved.
Having said that, do we need to be sucking food out of a belly button to enjoy 'fine dining'? To download a QR code to stop the crying of lambs so that we could enjoy the meal in silence? Have you seen that dessert- the waiter serving melted chocolate and milo on your hands and you're supposed to lick them clean?
Restaurants and judges are often confused about what’s right.
The awards are not supposed to go to the loudest, most out of the world, unique, exclusive dish; but to the ones who could find the perfect balance.
Rate a restaurant like a movie.
Genre, structure, pacing, length.
If you want to be fussy - character arcs, plot, techniques, editing, budget.
Suddenly, there is so much more to talk about than 'so gooooood I like it' or 'so mid so overrated'.
Comparison is another.
It’s hard to conclude without taking similar encounters into account.
I relate to Kazuki's food better than say, Florilege in Aomori, Amaru in Armadale, Gaea in Fitzroy.
I’m sure someone else will feel differently, but that’s the fun part.
That's the risk you take.
“Was it enough? Some people said it's not enough,” Kazuki asked us towards the end.
Yea, but you also told us ‘some people’ would eat the decorative seaweed and dried lentils from the bowls. So don't worry about what ‘some people’ said.
Not that he's asking, and not that I’m giving - it is not the food, the vibration, the wine list, or the service that's keeping him away from the third hat.
He has to stop being shy, tone down the Japanese and Australian-ness, and embrace the French attitude: light a cigarette, and open the Olympics on a river in pouring rain with a middle finger.
I hope they get to keep their hats.
Days later, Chika said: “We didn't have a salad. As in a raw, crunchy, fresh, citrusy kinda starter.”
I was going to say “what do you think this is, a cafe?” But held my tongue, realising it was the most relevant, due to his 'farm to table' beginnings in Daylesford. Everything was cooked, refined and processed.
My wife also understands the structure of fine dining.
She didn’t know she knew, but her brain did.
Also, she was thinking about the milky salad we had in Ca Sento almost 10 years ago.
And here's the thing, no matter your review criteria, just like watching a play, a concert, ultimately it's down to the company, and occasion.
The last time Chika and I had fine dining was two years ago.
And this was an early celebration of our 10th wedding anniversary.
Kazuki wouldn't have known.
Kazuki is super lovely!! Crazy that you guys were neighbours!