It might have been the most intense Yakiniku experience of my life.From the moment I opened the door, there was an atmosphere that set it apart from an ordinary high-end Yakiniku restaurant. The chic space, dominated by black, exuded a sense of tranquility while also being somewhat glamorous, instantly relaxing my body as I took my seat. At the fully attended grill, the chef skillfully interjected laughter into the cooking process, making the flames dance in the air before me. It was a moment that oscillated between tension and exhilaration.The opening dish was a beef consomme made with truffles and soft-shelled turtle. The deep, clear umami gradually seeped into my stomach, serving as a perfect introduction to the upcoming course. It had a smoothness akin to laying velvet directly on my stomach.Next came the hand rolls with sakura shrimp and carefully selected lean beef. Using shin-tama and sakura shrimp from Suruga Bay, this combination looked beyond the recent trend of rolling uni and tuna. The lingering aroma of the toasted sakura shrimp and the iron-like taste of the lean beef intertwined beautifully, erasing the boundaries between "sea" and "meat" in my mouth.The smoked tartare of caviar and Wagyu was no longer just an amuse-bouche for a Yakiniku restaurant. The tartare, made with zabuton and chestnuts, was paired with five-star caviar from Poland. The smoky aroma, fat, saltiness, and texture all harmonized perfectly, creating a complete experience in a single bite. Its level of perfection was unmatched by any standard French amuse-bouche.The six types of vegetables served here were also cleverly chosen. They prepared my palate for the next onslaught of flavors, providing a quiet intermission before the explosion of umami began.The sukiyaki with truffles and Tamura beef zabuton was bold, as it was a dish typically reserved for the end of the meal, thrown into the spotlight right away. The sweet fat, richness of the egg, and the penetrating aroma of truffles hit me like a top gear punch, making me smile involuntarily.The grilled Wagyu wrapped in cabbage looked like a cabbage roll to the eyes but tasted like an exquisite hamburger. As I cut into it, the juices flowed, and the soft sweetness of the cabbage slowly melded with the umami of the Wagyu. In that gentle moment, time seemed to slow down.Then came the ultimate thick-cut black tongue. I had never seen tongue so beautifully decorated with intricate cuts. Not only was it visually stunning, but the way the cuts were made designed the texture itself. By cutting it in half after grilling, different textures emerged, all calculated perfectly.What surprised me further was when the sommelier introduced a rosé leaning towards orange, reminiscent of the landscapes of Garda, instead of red wine. Rather than washing away the fat, it expanded the aromas in a pairing that left me in awe of their sensibility.The special outside skirt featured Kenzo Estate's "Asuka." As I bit into the meat fibers, the umami spread, enveloped by a supple fruitiness that transported my taste buds far ahead. I felt a shift in the resolution of the relationship between Yakiniku and wine.The Chateaubriand katsu sandwich was completely unfair. The cross-section adorned with truffles was a work of art, yet the texture was surprisingly delicate. The bread, meat, and fat all maintained a quiet balance without overpowering each other. It was rare to encounter such an "elegant katsu sandwich."In the shabu-shabu, the Omi beef heart appeared. While retaining the umami unique to lean meat, the technique of shabu-shabu brought out its tenderness to the extreme. It was a dish that showcased the meat's inherent strength rather than relying on fat.With the final clay pot rice, my rationality was completely shattered. It featured tenderloin and grilled corn, topped with Italian truffles. The sweetness and texture of Hokkaido corn connected the meat and rice at an extraordinarily high level. Every detail of the cooking was precisely calculated, and with each waft of aroma, my chopsticks couldn't stop. Despite intending to limit my carbohydrates, I found myself eating four bowls. Before my stomach could react, my brain had already surrendered.The burnt wasanbon ice cream was a mystery until the very end. Its soft appearance reminded me of Hakata Torimon. However, the moment I bit into it, the refined sweetness and the aroma of the burnt sugar melted together, quietly leaving only an aftertaste. From start to finish, it was a night that continuously updated my experience of "something I had never tasted before."And then there was the wine. Starting with Grand Cru Class champagne, moving on to Montrachet, Chambertin, Kenzo Estate's "Asuka" and "Ai," and even the rare Zinfandel "Saldo." The speed at which the bottles emptied accelerated in proportion to my happiness.This was no longer just Yakiniku. It was a comprehensive culinary art form borrowing the guise of Yakiniku.Tomorrow, I might die. Such words oddly suited the night.
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