What Japanese Cuisine Taught Me About Cooking
Recently, I hosted a private dinner built entirely around Japanese flavors. From the cured kanpachi to the grilled unagi rice, each dish felt like a return to something essential. As I moved through the prep and plating, I found myself reflecting not just on the ingredients, but on everything those early kitchens taught me: how to cook with intention, how to listen to the ingredients, and how to be fully present at the stove.
Working in restaurants like Momotaro changed the way I think about food. They taught me that great cooking isn’t about doing more, it’s about doing less, but with absolute care. That spirit has stayed with me and continues to shape the way I design every Vendador experience.
My time in Japanese kitchens taught me how to approach cooking as a craft rooted in purpose. What I carry most from those experiences is a deep respect for intention. That mindset changed everything for me.
Restraint. In Western kitchens, there’s often a tendency to layer flavor upon flavor, to push for impact through complexity. But in Japanese cuisine, I learned that less can often be more. A single ingredient, handled with care, can carry a dish. It’s not about minimalism for its own sake. It’s about knowing when to stop. Letting the main element shine without distraction is one of the hardest things to master.
Balance. Every dish needs harmony, between richness and brightness, salt and acid, softness and crunch. This balance didn’t come from excess but from precise adjustments: a touch of shiso to cut through the richness of salmon, or the subtle smokiness added just before plating. It’s this intentionality that makes Japanese cuisine so elegant and so humbling to execute.
Discipline. Whether it was learning to fry tempura without a mess or prepping raw fish with exact knife cuts, there was no shortcut to doing it right. Consistency wasn’t just expected—it was demanded. You had to be present in every movement, fully aware of timing, temperature, and texture. Even a half-second lapse could throw everything off.
Intention I cook for people who don’t just enjoy eating but appreciate the emotion, story, and precision behind what’s served. Whether it’s a piece of perfectly sliced sashimi or a bowl of rice that carries the scent of something nostalgic, I want each dish to leave an impression long after the plates are cleared.
These lessons continue to shape how I cook and how I serve. And they’re exactly what inspired the Japanese-inspired menu from a recent private dinner, which I’d love to share with you next:
Tuna Sashimi with Kinpira Gobo
Delicate slices of tuna paired with soy-braised burdock root and crisp baby lettuces. A dish that plays with contrast.
Kanpachi Crudo with Sea Lettuce
Gently cured in sake and kombu, this buttery fish was served with cucumber and green tomato vinaigrette. Bright and oceanic.
Smoked Salmon with Shiso Vinaigrette
Lightly smoked and dressed with shiso and daikon sprouts. A study in restraint—rich, fragrant, and intentionally simple.
Crab Salad with Uni on Brioche
Crab tossed with mustard and chili, topped with creamy uni and served on toasted brioche. A bold, decadent bite—small but memorable.
Grilled Unagi Rice Bowl
A personal favorite from my Momotaro days: grilled eel over sesame rice, with pickled mushrooms and fermented mustard greens. Comforting and nostalgic.
