Soba at Chez

Chez Panisse may not be a French restaurant, but it certainly isn’t Japanese.  So what was all that soba and sashimi doing on the plates a few weeks ago?  And on a Sunday?  On February 21, Chez Panisse opened their doors for a Soba dinner staged by Kanji Nakatani of Soba Ro (and Soba Ra).  Chez cooks collaborated on this memorable night, and everyone spoke the same language:  the language of food.

How did Kanji Nakatani (aka Kanchan) end up cooking in that warmly lit Craftsman house on Shattuck?

 Well that’s a long story that starts with a letter I wrote to Alice Waters 10 years ago, being invited to “cook” in the kitchen by Alice’s long-time assistant Cristina Salas-Porras and a friendship with assistant Sylvan Mishima Brackett that resulted in him cooking in Kanchan’s kitchen in Japan.  And I guess it’s also a story about how relationships are formed through the commonality of food.  What Chez Panisse cooks share with Kanchan is that astutely fine sense of each component that goes into making seemingly simple, but actually complex food.  There is a cleanness to the food at Chez Panisse that jumps out from Kanchan’s food as well.  As Kanchan puts it, the food is “ii ni yasashi.” Easy on the stomach.

Two years ago, when Kanchan and Chez Panisse teamed up for the first Soba dinner, I asked Alice what attracted her about Japan.  Her response:  “I have probably always been drawn to Japan.  I’ve always felt like I was thinking about things in the same way:  thinking about things seasonally, thinking about the sort of ‘liveness,’ thinking about its origin.”

Years ago, I told Kanchan about Alice Waters and Chez Panisse because I recognized in him that same unquenchable passion for the most mind-blowingly great ingredient and the same total focus on creating food that will make people stop and say “wow, this is the best thing I have ever tasted.”

So why did 10 cooks spend their day off pulling a 12-hour shift?  Why did busy Japanese caterer, Sylvan, volunteer to spend his week as liaison between Kanchan and Chez?  And why did Kanchan close one of his restaurants for a week, flying himself and assistant, Kai, half way across the world to cook only one night at Chez Panisse?  Why did I volunteer my own two boys to be translators for the week?  Why did we do it?  Because we all believe in the incredible energy surge that happens when two disparate, but like forces, come together.  Experiencing that feeling is rare and exactly what takes food to the next level. 

All cooking is constantly evolving and constantly absorbing influences from outside sources.  A new way of looking at a food (like fish guts) or a new way of treating greens (salt massaged) can open up a previously unseen window into one’s own food.  Kanchan was just as excited to work with the Chez Panisse cooks, as they were to work with him.  And I was just happy to be along for the ride, poking my finger in where ever I could. 

It’s well known that Japanese tend to be fairly indirect communicators (unlike us crass Americans).  But after Kanchan casually asked Christopher several times about my next trip to California, while evoking Chez Panisse in the same breath, Christopher suggested to me that Kanchan might be interested in doing another dinner at Chez Panisse.  I put the word out through my Chez Panisse grapevine, and Alice (a lover of all things Japan) gave the go ahead almost immediately.

Kanchan’s first response to menu discussions:  “It depends on ‘the farm.’”  In Japan, Kanchan has some of the best seafood in the world at his fingertips, so it was the unusual greens and pungent herbs that were calling his name.  Two years ago we took him up to Bob Cannard’s farm in Sonoma.  Bob is a biodynamic farmer who spouts mesmerizingly powerful rhetoric on the earth he nurtures and the vegetables he grows.  Kanchan shares that power, though his platform is from the kitchen, not the land.  Bob was elsewhere when we arrived at the farm early one morning, but Oliver Monday was waiting to shepherd us around.  Kanchan and Kai immediately set off stalking the fields, pinching off tops of flowering greens:  inhaling their essence in the cool morning air, chewing on the stalks as they tromped through the dewy hodge-podge of verdant plants that characterize Bob’s farm.  Oliver steered the chef and his cook here and there, offering suggestions.  We all tasted and weighed in, but Kanchan was on a mission.  General Manager, Jennifer Sherman, madly scribbled as Kanchan made his preliminary selections, and Oliver promised to make up some sample boxes to test in the kitchen.  Back in Berkeley, we took a quick cruise through the Thursday afternoon farmers’ market, usually so enticing, but Kanchan could not be wooed.  He had what he was looking for:  greens from Bob. 

On Saturday morning Sylvan, Kanchan, Kai and Christopher headed off to Monterey Fish at 5:30 AM.  Andrew and I (wisely) stayed in bed.  I was feeling a bit wiped out from the trip.  We met up later that morning at Sylvan’s cooking studio, after a run to Pizzaiolo for cappuccino (me) and Bakesale Betty for lunch (the group).  Kanchan and Kai experienced a bit of culture shock when I unwrapped Betty’s signature fried chicken and coleslaw sandwiches.  Needless to say, we split three among six of us.  (They’re BIG.)  As Kanchan was curing the fish for sashimi, one with kelp another with vinegar and Meyer lemon, he regaled us with the tale of grabbing fish guts out of the trash.  Well, not exactly, but he did rescue fish liver, fish eggs and fish collars (kama) from the pile of fish parts to be jettisoned.  But don’t worry, he cooked those up for the staff meal (too bad you didn’t get to try them…damn good).  He simmered the eggs and liver in soy sauce flavored dashi (bonito and kelp stock).  I spooned up a bit to see if it passed muster and had to take another spoonful, just to make sure.  What a waste, throwing such delicacies away.  Kanchan broiled the kama for the staff on the night of the dinner.  Christopher grudgingly offered me a piece, and full though I was, I savored the boldly fatty flesh.  Kama is one of my favorite cuts.  Crazy that it was in the “trash.”

Two years ago, I was writing an article about Chez Panisse and the Soba Dinner for Slow Food Japan, so didn’t book a table.  This time I did not make the same mistake.  Standing up eating with the cooks in between seatings was loads of fun last time, but ultimately not completely satisfying.  I wanted the whole experience, and two years ago had really regretted not asking head chef, Jean-Pierre Moullé, for a set-up in the kitchen (hard to believe, but I didn’t want to put myself forward).  Though he did bring me a plate of shrub-grazed beef and a draft beer.  Our table this year was eclectic, yet still clicked.  We came together a motley crew:  blogging friends, (Elise and Garrett), writing friends (Karin, Rita and Susan) and the catalyst (not me) was Sharon Jones, my dear friend from Japan and Chez Panisse, mother to budding farmer Oliver Monday and gifted salumi-making downstairs cook, Nico.  Andrew, having worked in the trenches as Kai’s assistant first seating, was holding down the end of the table, just barely.  I threatened to kick him if he didn’t perk up, but Susan wouldn’t let me. 

(video of Kanchan rolling soba)

  
Did the dinner live up to expectation?  Yes, and then some.  It was the best Japanese dinner I have ever had at Chez Panisse.  Hah.  OK, it was one of the most well-balanced and thoughtfully delicious dinners I have ever had the privilege of eating.  And yes, it was a privilege.  Thank you Chez Panisse and thank you Kanchan.  Your collaboration was magical.

Zensai  Dungeness crab tofu, sesame tofu, flowering bok choy tops in aspic, pickled plum, and steamed local sea urchin with soy sauce and chervil

Sashimi  Seared Santa Barbara swordfish, konbu-cured local halibut, Meyer lemon-cured black cod and steamed monkfish liver, with fresh wasabi, slivered daikon, green garlic & pepper cress

Shioyaki to Agemono  Arugula tops and and mustard flower tempura with sea salt, Salt grilled California sea bass with salt-massaged radicchio tardivo, sorrel and chervil  

Kamojiru Soba  Soba noodles and broth with duck, chanterelles, spring onions, turnip, and celery root

Kanmi  Page Mandarin sherbet with soba and matcha gelée and sweetened smashed red beans 

"The Crew" 

Comments

[Preeva Tramiel]

Nancy, how wonderful for your boys to participate in such an event. I wonder if your elder should do college--perhaps touring the world with Kanchan would make more sense?

[Elise]

One the the best meals I've ever had. Thank you so much for including Garrett and me for this special feast! Love the photos and the the background story. xoxo

[Nancy Singleton Hachisu]

Preeva: I guess it's not up to me any more, but since Christopher hasn't even attended one full year of formal schooling, he might do well with a short 4-year college experience. At this point, I doubt Kanchan will be traveling the world, though I know he left his heart in Berkeley. How is the memoir going?

Elise: I agree about the dinner and was also glad to have you and Garrett at the table. It was a breathlessly powerful (and fun) group. With this post, I think I have finally recovered. I'm digging through the food blog alliance site and learning a lot. What an amazing reference for us all. I'm in awe. Comments will ensue. For now I have to start planning the K3 overnight tomorrow (they're all lobbying for my 4-inch thick wagyu hamburgers), next comes Graduation lunch, one more Overnight and finally Graduation "tea." I'm sick of the same old, same old, so am casting about for new ideas. Nancy

[Brandon]

Fav blog yet!!!!

[Sonndapond]

The Zensai looks especially stunning - balance on a board - contrasting colours, textures and flavours, a few unusual touches but the whole still simple. Might have died and gone to heaven on the dessert: so delicate and ethereal. Ephemeral I bet too! The magical energy of the evening comes across really powerfully in your writing. Blend of wonderful people, skill, talent, produce, and thoughtful care. You mention it all started with a letter to Alice Waters 10 years ago? Did you ask if you could go cook in the CP kichen? I was so impressed by one of the Portuguese restaurants I visited, I'm planning on writing to ask if I could go help out for a few days to learn more about the cuisine, the local produce and how they handle both so perfectly. I'll feel blessed if they say yes.

[Garrett]

One of the best meals I have ever had. Thank you so much for inviting me, Nancy! I'll never forget it. =)

[Nancy Singleton Hachisu]

Brandon: Well it's a subject you know well, having eaten with me numerous times at CP and Kanchan's place as well.

Sonnda: Funny how you zeroed in on the zensai-check out the one we had at Soba Ro at the end of my Soba Ra post. Those little morsels are almost my favorite part of the meal. The point of this amuse gueules is that they use the trimmings from the rest of the meal to create little tidbits to stimulate your appetite and to avoid waste. I love that concept (so French as well, and so not American). As for the letter to Alice, I was starting a Slow Food convivium at the time and wondering what they did at CP with their convivium and also how to make prosciutto as I had read in Café cookbook that they were making it (but no recipe). Cristina generously invited me to "cook" (and I use that term very loosely, it was much more of an "assist" and stay out of the way). Luckily, I assisted Amy on a little frito misto course that involved prepping Japanese eggplant and cleaning fresh anchovies (been there and done that more times than I can count). It was a lot of fun and of course I was totally jazzed to do it. The head chef, Chris Lee, walked me through the prosciutto process, and I gave it a go back in Japan. Unfortunately, the Japanese govt won't let the butcher sell meat with the skin on. Hmm...major problem, but didn't find that out until I picked up the leg. The bad mold set in, though I fought valiantly against it, anointing the meat with brandy. The leg was hanging in our kura, a sort of wine cellar, cum storage house...unfortunately, rats love meat and somebody slithered into the storage house for his feast. Let's just say that was not a successful prosciutto-curing experience. My chorizos go much better!

Garrett: You were a great addition to the table. I knew you could hold your own with all those women!

[Mora Chartrand-Grant]

Hi, Nancy. I feel as if I was late for dinner having been late in checking out what's newly posted. It's such a shame what is tossed out in some kitchens; more a matter of education and exposure I would guess. The fish guts made me think of squid guts...shiokara, one of my all-time favorite bits to enjoy with a bowl of perfectly cooked rice and a great cold sake. And kama, such a sweet and precious morsel of fish, not to mention fish cheeks too. Interesting note on the Japanese government not allowing the skin to be left on the meat. On a separate matter, I saw the mention of someone (Vince?) trying Gruner. Linda and I have reservations at their April 6 First Tuesday dinner at which they'll be featuring the food from Alsace-Lorraine and wine from Marcel Deiss. Very excited and will let you know all about it. The menu is not yet available but I'll keep you posted.

[Nancy Singleton Hachisu]

Mora: sorry about ignoring you, I too feel like I'm late to the party these days. I couldn't find the reference to Gruner, but I'm interested in how that goes. Let me know. I need to plan a few more dinners in Portland besides the Pigeon. By the way, let's put shiokara on the list when you come in November, I love that as well, though it has to be good. Because bad shiokara is really, really bad. But then, you know that. Nancy