Staging a DIY Kaiseki Dinner Party (Part 2)

Now let’s focus on the practical aspect of staging a kaiseki in your home. My fellow travelers and co-chefs—Joan Brower, Joan Ross, and Robin Taubin—had a mission. We had invited two charming couples from Maryland for a special Japanese dinner the next time they were in New York City. Now we had to make good on that enthusiastic promise. Admittedly, we were all novices when it came to cooking Japanese food and recognized that our kaiseki would only approximate the real thing, at best. Nonetheless, we were undaunted. Here's how we did it.

PLANNING

·         Purpose, theme and guestlist: As this kaiseki dinner was a trial run, the guest list was kept short: Robin’s husband Michael; our guest-of-honor, Orlando Camargo, who had helped us plan our trip; and the four “chefs.”  Multiple organizational emails replaced a proper invitation. 

·         Menu: This was a collaborative effort. Each of us proposed a course to prepare at home.  After much back and forth to make sure we respected as many “principles of five” as possible, our menu was set:

Reception

Onigiri rice balls with crab, tuna, and avocado filling

Edamame

Assorted Japanese rice crackers

Dinner menu

Sushi with soy sauce, pickled ginger, and wasabi

Shrimp Tempura with Cabbage Salad and Miso soup

Salmon Teriyaki with Green beans and Soba noodles

Japanese cheesecake

Miso cookies

Drinks: Yuzu Sake cocktails, Sake, Japanese beer, and Suntory Scotch 

·         Logistics: Each of us designed our own timeline, mine being slightly more complicated as the evening’s host.  With a to-do list in hand, I set about finding a Japanese store for the unusual ingredients needed to make my two dishes, onigiri and miso soup.  Katagiri, near Bloomingdales, became my go-to for anything Japanese. Trader Joe’s provided the rest.

 It was the role of the host to provide logistical instructions. Each guest chef was asked to have her dish “ready to go” the night of our dinner. As host I would provide serving dishes and utensils. However, I neglected to specify that if a dish required last minute cooking, it would be the responsibility of the person who made it. Naturally, that person would have full access to my kitchen.   

ATMOSPHERE

·         Japanese esthetic: This was a challenge as the Japanese have exacting standards for what they consider beautiful. Their ideals are discerningly minimalist, understated, and unadorned. Our Western standards, in comparison, are often bold, obvious, and over-the-top.  My research also revealed that Japanese revere the contemplative beauty of the imperfect and often give preference to natural materials.  Very Zen, right? 

To jump start the process of creating a Japanese environment of simplicity, beauty and calm in my home, some decluttering was definitely called for.  (Thank you, Marie Kondo.) Next, I looked around for items which might reflect a Japanese esthetic. Surprisingly, my hunt unearthed all sorts of East Asian-looking objects hidden away in closets and cupboards. Before long I had amassed an assortment of rustic pottery, lacquerware, a Noh mask, a black and gold leaf bento box, and a hand-painted fan. And chop sticks galore. I also discovered forgotten family heirlooms from my father’s days in the US Navy: porcelain figurines dressed in colorful robes along with a dark green cloisonné vase decorated with chrysanthemums. These items were positioned in the common areas where guests could appreciate their exotic beauty. Paying attention to every detail in preparing the ambience for the kaiseki allowed me to emulate the mindset of a Japanese host. Or at least, my version of one.

·         Tablescape: The starting point for the table décor was a piece of red fabric adorned with cranes and abstract floral designs purchased in Japan and later turned into placemats. An off-white runner with red calligraphy covered the center of the table.  From the stash of Japanese-looking tableware, I thoughtfully selected items for each place setting: a marble service plate; an unglazed ceramic sake cup; two dipping saucers; and chopped sticks with a rest resembling a summer vegetable. Western flatware was not provided. At everyone’s place was a rolled up, printed menu—prepared using a Japanese-looking typeface called Mantura—tied with a natural cord and several  sprigs of fresh lavender.  The finishing touch of décor was a miniature wooden spinning top from the Noguchi Museum in the Queens. (More on that item later.)  

·         Service pieces: A combination of color, shape, and texture determined which plates and serving pieces would best visually complement each course. Everything was labeled with Post-its to avoid confusion. As you might imagine, the kitchen resembled a secondhand store piled high with pillars of platters and plates.

·         Music: Spotify to the rescue. I landed on a playlist called “Japanese Garden,” which was described as traditional music ideal for relaxing and gaming. Say what? In fact, played quietly in the background, the music gave off just the right Japanese vibe.

·         Flowers: Ikebana, or the art of Japanese flower arranging, is based on harmony, beauty, and balance. This is an artform which takes years to master. Despite being a bit intimidated, I managed to create several arrangements for the entrance and living room. For the table centerpiece, I used a flat, square celadon porcelain bowl. In it were white and yellow chrysanthemums floating in water on top of Japanese painted ferns from my garden. My objective in each floral design was to respect a minimalist use of blossoms, branches, and leaves. This approach was a fun, creative challenge for my Western eye where normally Abbondanza rules. 

The house was ready to go two days in advance. This way I could devote the rest of the time to leisurely finishing food shopping and preparing my two dishes.

WELCOME

·         Staggering arrivals: Making guests feel valued, respected, and comfortable were critical aspects of a kaiseki ‘s hospitality component. Our dinner was officially set for 6:30 PM.  However, I anticipated that each participating “chef” would require individual attention. So, their arrival time was staggered starting at 5:45 PM. This way everyone could unpack their food, confirm my choice of presentation platter for their dish, and discuss last-minute details. And I could pamper my guests calmly.

·         Party attire: Guests were asked to wear something Japanese. So having a coat rack and guest bathroom available provided a convenient place for guests to change clothes and check their appearance, if needed. Let’s face it. Adults love to wear costumes. And they did: silk kimono jackets, pajamas, and a dress decorated with koi fish.

·         A specialty cocktail was another attempt to make my guests feel special.  While in Takayama, our group visited a sake producer. All four of us loved the yuzu-flavored sake we sampled. I found a bottle at my local New York wine shop and crafted a “minimalist” cocktail of just two ingredients: one part yuzu sake to two parts tonic water but beautifully presented with a slice of blood orange and served in a hand-blown flute.

·         Reception: To get the party going, the first course of origini, salted edamame, and rice crackers was set up on a low coffee table in the living room.  I decorated the table with Japanese blue and white sometsuke ceramic dishes and teapot filled with chopped sticks. This arrangement required guests to move around to serve themselves, always a helpful strategy for encouraging people to relax and mingle. But first, I offered each guest a hand sanitized towel with a slight bow duplicating what we experienced on our trip. Hand sanitized towels were omni-present in Japan. There they serve a dual purpose: for cleaning your hands and as a napkin. In fact, cloth napkins were a rarity on our trip!

Orlando, who had lived in Japan for many years, explained to us that before we ate anything, we were expected to say “Itadakimasu,” which translates to “I will humbly receive (this meal).” He also delighted the guests with stories about how his two children would pick up onigiri everyday at a local 7-Eleven on their way home from school. We bombarded Orlando with questions about life as a Westerner in Japan.  He was our table troubadour entertaining us with a flood of spirited recollections.   

·         Dinner: The dinner went like clockwork thanks to the delicious contributions of my three traveling companions plus the help of a friend brought in to serve and clean up. A choice of Japanese beer and three different sakes were offered throughout the evening.  As instructed by Orlando, we were careful to follow the Japanese tradition of never serving ourselves. This meant guests were busy taking care of each other’s empty sake cups.  Further, to keep people active during course changes—they were invited to play with the miniature Japanese spinning tops at their place.  Again, Orlando offered us guidance.  He explained the Japanese custom of the spinning tops: whoever’s top stays up the longest pays for the next round of drinks!

Our Kaiseki’s Happy Ending

All I remember was that there were many Kampai! that evening or Camparies as one guest kept saying. Even with a fortress of dirty dishes at the end of the evening to attack, our trial run was a triumph. We did our best to follow protocol, however, certain Japanese customs, including the practice of requesting guests to remove their shoes upon entering my home, were deliberately not observed.  Our guests were also spared the discomfort of sitting on their knees on the floor to eat! Nonetheless, we were proud of our collective accomplishment. We successfully pulled off recreating a kaiseki dinner and did so in an environment which hopefully evoked the “beauty and calm” of Japanese hospitality.

While there was no dispute about the beauty or deliciousness of the meal, it was far from calm.  And why not? Having guests thoroughly enjoy themselves, despite our cultural differences of great gusto versus subdued calm, was also part of the kaiseki ritual.

And now, to do it again for our four friends!