Kumamoto: Chef Asahina, what does “delicious” mean to you? We often end up talking about technique or ingredients, but today I’d love to ask from a slightly wider perspective.

Asahina: It goes without saying that the food must be delicious—that’s the baseline. Beyond that, when service, cuisine, and space become one, the restaurant’s completeness rises. Only then does “delicious” truly take shape. The word taste may seem confined to the tongue, but in reality it’s open. The plate’s temperature, the tempo of delivery, the moment a sauce’s aroma unfurls, the brief hush that settles over the dining room—when countless elements resonate at once, “delicious” is completed inside the guest.

Kumamoto: So it’s about elevating taste into experience design.

Asahina: Exactly. And to preserve tradition, you have to tune it for the present.

Kumamoto: Your cuisine feels grounded in the weight of the classics, yet sharpened with a modern edge.

Asahina: That’s my axis. I dive into the history of French cuisine and reconstruct recipes through my own interpretation. It’s not about decorating the past—it’s about re-reading it so it can pass through into the future.

Kumamoto: I see. That stance of “tuning the classics toward the future” becomes the outline of the food itself.

Asahina: Thank you. From how the introduction layers into the course, to how consomé and dessert are presented—I build it all as a single experience.


Japanese Ingredients: Not the “Lead,” but the “Essence”

Asahina: I use Japanese ingredients not as the lead, but as an essence. When you cook French cuisine in Japan, the ingredients can be so compelling that, before you know it, the food tilts “Japanese.” That balance is difficult. Of course seasonality matters—but I won’t compromise the fact that it is French. Within that, I use Japanese ingredients as an essence. Against the backdrop of French ingredients and context, I let Japanese ingredients “ignite” at key points, then build the flavors—something like that.

Kumamoto: You’re not asking about an ingredient’s nationality, but its necessity in the flavor. That may be why, more than showiness, a sense of sincerity comes forward. Your dishes feel deeply layered—not only seasonal, but built through time and labor. To make “exceptional French” stand out in Tokyo must come with an enormous load.

Asahina: Tokyo is dense—with information and experiences. So “simply good” gets buried. But “being eccentric” alone doesn’t endure either. In the end, you’re pushed to stack the fundamentals. Trends move fast, and comparisons are unforgiving. That’s why cuisine has to speak in layers: the viscosity of a sauce, how aroma rises, how temperature is lowered, the spacing between plates. Those accumulations form an outline that can withstand the city’s speed.

What Ultimately Remains Is the Difference in Aesthetic Sense

Kumamoto: In terms of “facing the guest,” how do you approach it?

Kumamoto: In terms of “facing the guest,” how do you approach it?

Asahina: In the end, it’s all “for the guest.” You keep thinking from the guest as your starting point. Today, you can eat delicious French cuisine almost anywhere. Precisely because the market is mature, I think what’s tested is whether you can trust yourself. If it’s a dish you present with conviction, guests will follow. Believing that, I face everything each day—food, staff, space—with sincerity. In a mature market, differences in technique narrow and information levels out. What remains, ultimately, is the difference in aesthetic sense.

Kumamoto: Taste isn’t a point. A course is a line—and that line breathes through tempo. The more plates continue, the dining time itself becomes a composed structure. At “Chef’s Theatre,” too, of course the cuisine matters—but impressions change depending on when and how we deliver. After sustained, quiet concentration, there’s a moment when taste suddenly opens all at once.

Asahina: That’s why tempo matters. Not “fast” or “slow,” but “not letting the guest get lost.” You lead them properly to the point where the flavor’s outline appears. That’s how I think of it.


What Comes Next?