The Best Paella in the World is Made in Tokyo

Last summer I had a chance to dine at the restaurant in Valencia, Spain that is famous for allegedly inventing paella hundreds of years ago. The place was packed with tourists and the collection of ceramic plates on the walls told the story of the restaurant through the years. The resulting paella that resulted from all of this hoopla was what could be described as ordinary. Let’s just say the dominant taste was salt, and more than half of the substance of the dish seemed to be permanently melded into the hundred year layer of black crust on the cast iron skillet.

Flash to a non-descript parking lot on the Meguro river in Nakameguro, Tokyo. Inside a stylish black van is where the best paella I’ve ever tasted comes from. The van is labeled ‘Tokyo Paella,’ and the chef behind the wheel is a true master. The dish is alive with the flavors of his uniquely spiced chicken and vegetables. There is salt there, but the main take away is of buttery and moist rice, of the kind you’ll want to seek out every grain with your spork. The meal comes with salad and a tapas, usually some pork concoction.

The dramatic difference between the levels in quality between the original paella and Tokyo’s outstanding version, is an example of the well documented ‘Japan Effect.’ Namely, import the world’s best, pay attention to every detail of how it’s made, and then improve that process and the overall product as a result. This happens in technology, in fashion, in the culinary arts, and this time, specifically in paella. What I had in Nakameguro is a better engineered paella. The chefs in the paella restaurant in Valencia, I’m sure feel entitled that they must deliver the world’s best paella. Surely it is the most authentic, and surely no one without Spanish blood could achieve mastery of the dish. Or simply, perhaps they don’t feel a need to impress the tourists and save the good stuff for home. Whatever the reason, the Valencian chefs were clearly phoning this one in. And for my yen, there is no better paella in the world than from the esteemed master of the details who parks his cart along the Meguro river every Wednesday lunch time.

See you in line.

“Don’t Be Fooled By Lady Cafés.”

There are thousands of these cafes in Tokyo that only serve teeny, tiny portions of food. When you walk down the street, and see a laminated poster displaying their menu, it looks damn good. But when you go inside and order, you are presented with a side dish that sells for full meal price. It’s a lady cafe. Sometimes you can look in the window and notice the complete absence of men. But other times, there is no view inside, and you have to take a leap of faith. A typical lady cafe menu offers tasty looking dishes like chicken curry, taco rice and pork bowls. All worthy dishes, that presented in regular sized dishes with regular sized portions make amazing lunches. But, in the context of a lady cafe, you will walk away from lunch unfulfilled and wishing you had ventured a bit deeper into the alleyway.

‘The Over-Abundance of Mayonnaise in Japan.’

America is an easy target for cheap shots. Living abroad, I’ve found that before I’ve had any time to say much about myself, non-Americans I’ve introduced myself to generally waste no time before downloading me with their favorite negative American stereotypes. Then I tell them my name and say how nice it is to meet them. One stereotype I’ve heard, and take no offense to is that Americans love mayonnaise. It seems both true and unusual enough that I accept that one. It’s a different type of cultural attack than the more frequent ‘Why do Americans love war so much?’ or ‘Why does every family have a gun collection?’ I accepted the mayonnaise critique. 

Until I experienced the mayonnaise levels in Japan.

It’s everywhere. In vastly spread, gloppy, dripping quantities. In America, at a backyard barbecue you’ll occasionally run across some due applying mayonnaise to his burger by the table spoon. But in Japan, the salty, white, spreadable lard is far more ubiquitous. It’s in restaurants and whole sections of the grocery store displaying all manner of variation. It’s in sushi. It’s on salad. At okonomiyaki restaurants the servers will squeeze bottles of mayonnaise until the entire surface is criss-crossed in lard.

As I said, I’m find with the mayonnaise critique against America, but in fairness maybe we can include Japan in the critique when gluttony for mayonnaise is discussed. Man, I need a sandwich.

A Portrait of an Artist in Tokyo

The artist comes into the barbecue restaurant to discuss the pricing of the artwork on the wall. The drawings, on small bits of tracing paper, depict small details of Japanese life, in a casual way. Areas are chosen arbitrarily to fill in with graphite. They are studies of white space and pattern. Graphic sketches going for 100-200 dollars.

The artist, passionately discusses the details of each drawing. She suggests that the largest drawing, the only color one on the wall is priced too low. It reads at a glance as an abstract series of interlocking patterns. The type of thing you might see on a silk kimono. It’s a collection of leaves, feathers and some elongated body parts. It is beautiful and unique and most likely is priced too low.

I love the sense of craft and artistry that is very tangible in Tokyo. From a zoomed out, Google Earth view of Tokyo, it is a jungle of post-war concrete. But when you zoom into the street level, cafe level of the city, and can bask in its labyrinth of alleyways, the city sings with the personalities of thousands of artists in the classic sense of the word. Wall spaces are gallery spaces. These independent street brands feature locally scrawled graphics, local stickers, local screen prints. In a way, the city has the naive vibe of an art school. In a beautiful way. Artists speak earnestly of their craft. Many are lost in the love lorn insanity of existing only to create. What freedom! Their vocabulary and their very living is caught up in the nuances of cross-hatching, and the merits of negative space.

Japan has a striking visual history, and I find many aspects of this city and country to be insanely advanced. Subjects are approached from a pure aesthetic presentation standpoint. In a way, the visual creativity feels effortless, just a part of the DNA of what it is to be Japanese. I find it consistently inspiring.

The artist now has opened her backpack and unloaded a stack of hand printed art books featuring her work. She is an enterprising and ambitious artist, caught up in the Tokyo hustle. I’ve encountered artists like this before here. She talks now of trying to secure a textile deal that would get her patterns on H&M products. There is no fear of selling out here. The goal is simply to get her style seen by as many people as possible. H&M represents a metaphorical art gallery that attracts millions of visitors. Any artist would dream of an active audience of that size.

Retail spaces in Japan are art spaces. Physical space is at a premium. There are 200 million people living on this small island. Every detail is meticulously looked after by someone. Attention is paid to every space of a shop. There are no messes in the corners, no boxes piled up to be dealt with later. What Japan presents to the customer at retail is gallery perfect. Museum quality. So why not shoot for painting your design onto the fabrics of a H&M shirt or skirt if you are a Tokyo artist. They have large museums across the city.

Get into those street level cafes and barbecue joints, filled with soul, teeming with Japanese equivalents of hipsters. And while you’re at it, attract the interest of a mega-label, desperately in search of the kind of soul that you can effortlessly provide.

Double dip young artist. Sell your wares and commit to the hustle. Spread that style and stay your course. The world doesn’t bow to artists, you have to demand their attention. Your passion and hustle for your craft, coupled with your personality filled designs will be a strong tag team in this city.

And you are right, 200 dollars is too cheap a price for that beautiful colored pattern. Place a new sticker atop it for at least twice that. You’re going places young artist. To H&M, or wherever you can dream of next.

“On Having a Pure Japan Experience In The Midst of Watching Sumo While Consuming Sushi.”

I watched the sumo wrestlers collide and I ate sushi.

This is a pure Japan experience. I tasted the familiar saltiness of the salmon and I observed two large men casually throwing salt all over the place. The rice stuck to my lip. The wasabi fought its way through my nasal passage. My eyes teared up as the massive bodies collided against each other. I wiped the rice from my lip and the tear from my eye as they replayed the impact of the massive bodies in extreme slow motion. The fleshly ripples accentuated and showcased in their liquidness. One man or the other would fall, or get nudged out of the ring. I had more sushi. Tuna this time. Some with more wasabi, some with less. The ripples and rolls continued on loop. My night became a living, animated GIF of Japaness.

Most Viewed Content

I went back into the statistics for this blog to see what readers have been enjoying the most. My reports on Yu Darvish have drawn some serious traffic this year with his upcoming season in the major leagues. Readers have also checked out and sent around various reports and posts on Tokyo culture. Thankfully some of my favorite pieces to write have also proven to be popular with readers of this blog. At any rate, here are the top 20 most popular pieces of content over the last year. I hope you find something interesting and maybe learn something new about life in Tokyo, Japan. Thank you for your continued support of Oyl In Tokyo!

Most Popular Content on Oyl In Tokyo:

1. Yu Darvish Scouting Report.

2. A Brief History of Nike.

3. Two Strikes Against Yu Darvish.

4. Minimalism’s Next Door Neighbor Maximalism.

5. Play Ball Tokyo.

6. Being Tall In Japan.

7. Koshien.

8. Nike Football Soccer Note.

9. Nike Football Ignite Legends.

10. Tsutaya Daikanyama Is the Future.

11. PlayStation Playfaces.

12. ‘Slurp Voraciously.’

13. Nike Japan New Beginnings.

14. The Definition of ‘Linsanity.’

15. Tokyo Ballers.

16. Nike Ignite The Game.

17. My Thoughts On Fukushima.

18. Alternative America.

19. Baseball In Japan.

20. On the Ekiden and the Existence of Finish Lines.

“Pickles and Jazz”

This guy comes into the burger place I’m at and orders a big bowl of pickles.

They come out almost instantly. He pulls a tiny paperback book out of the pocket of his camelhair jacket, or whatever designer fur the thing is made out of. He eats pickles with his right hand and reads the small leather covered book with his left. He mechanically feeds the pickles into his mouth. He takes exactly four bites per pickle.

Bite.

Chew.

Read.

Bite.

Chew.

Read.

The pickles last for quite a while. It was a big bowl. They bring him some blackened beer and then he alternates between pickles and beer, reading the little book all the while. After the pickles are gone, the waiter brings out one of the biggest burgers I’ve seen in Tokyo. The thing is so big it forces the man to put the small book down. He applies ketchup mechanically. And then the mustard in the same fashion.

The man’s moves are a spectacle. I notice the couple next to me is watching now too. Everything about this man seems artificial and calculated, yet somehow poetic. Like performance art. It seems like an artistic routine that fits perfectly with the jazz playing on the sound system, accentuated by the rhythm of the occasional passing train. On this night, life is a poem.

Then the man starts to cut his massive burger with fork and knife. A train passes. The cymbal adds a flourish. American Graffiti is being beamed against the back wall of the joint. Silently. Beyond the knife and fork of the mechanical diner, a projection of a young Harrison Ford wise cracks from behind the wheel of a classic car. When the burger is devoured, the man moves back to the pickles. I guess there were some left.

Richard Dreyfuss looks nervous.

Then man picks up the small book.

A train unloads.

A horn blows a prolonged cool note.

My bill comes.

The man takes a bite of pickle.

Harrison Ford laughs.

“Eating Celebrities”

There are these people in Japan who become celebrities because they are really expressive when they eat food. Every night, the TV channels are filled with these food celebrities trying different dishes and having really extreme reactions. All of the reactions are basically the same. They open their eyes really wide, look incredibly surprised and declare the word for ‘delicious.’ All of them repeat this word. Every time someone eats something on TV, they literally say the exact same word for delicious. Regardless of gender, age, fashion sense or any other demographic distinguishing trait. ‘Delicious!’ ‘So delicious!’ Wow, delicious!’ They will bring food into TV studios and this happens. They will send these celebrities out to local restaurants and this happens. I don’t really know what’s up with that. But I do know this happens every night on TV. For hours.

“Monja”

The stuff doesn’t look good.

It looks the opposite of good. It looks like something you never want to put in your mouth. But for some reason it’s damn popular in Japan.

It’s a mixture of flour, water, green onions and assorted seafood that just never seem to mix. It’s thrown onto a hot skillet where it bubbles and percolates under the drunken eye of the table’s resident chef. 

At some point, (not sure how anyone can tell) its done. Eventually, diners around the table start ripping apart little piles of this watery, bubbling goo and shoving it into their mouths. They separate and smash little bite sized bits with tiny metal spatulas. Before long, the mess is gone and the chef brings out the next dish. Usually the closely related but visually more appealing ‘okonomiyaki.’

The monja has thankfully been devoured, but it’s never more than a sharp holler at the wait staff from coming back.

I’ll pass.