Hard to swallow: the unjustified hype around Japanese food

After 23 years in Japan, having tried everything from yatai (street food) to deep-fried globe fish in a kaiseki (traditional) restaurant, I have come to the conclusion that Japanese food is overrated. It is rarely less than perfectly presented, and it can be superb – but it can also be bland and homogenous.

Part of the problem is that much of what delights the Japanese about their food is unrelated to its actual taste. If British food, in the bad old days at least, was simply fuel, Japanese food has always been, to some extent, art. A high-end Japanese meal is the equivalent of a Wagnerian gesamtkunstwerk, with the colours, the choice of bowls, utensils, tablecloth, room, and tinkling water from a nearby stream, if available, part of the all-encompassing sensory experience.

A foodie friend undertook a tour of Japan’s most famous regional ramen restaurants. He recalled one establishment where he sat down, began chatting to his companion and was angrily hushed by the proprietor, who pointed to a sign on the wall. It was a ‘no-talking’ restaurant.

It is also medicine, with an inordinate amount of attention paid to the nutritional value and the fabled balance and harmony of ingredients, their provenance and seasonality. There are strict rules about eating until you are 80 per cent full, and wasting not a scrap. All of these considerations are admirable in their way; but it does occasionally make one yearn for the joy of eating for the sheer pleasure of it.

The air of mysticism that surrounds a visit to a traditional Japanese restaurant is both seductive and intimidating. It lulls us into the belief that we are taking part in an ancient ritual, while silencing any doubts at having to sit in an excruciating seiza style for hours eating tiny quantities of often rather tasteless dishes.