The World Digested A.
Yelp
In terms of contemporary, none can be more contemporary than Shigetsu, the Zen vegetarian restaurant owned by Tenryu-ji - a temple listed on the UNESCO world heritage list. Shigetsu has an English homepage subtitularly notifying the potential visitors that it was a "Bib Gourmand...a restaurant serving exceptionally good food at moderate prices" and little flyers of explanations for the uninitiated foreigners. Its "snow" course consisted of one soup, one rice and five dishes, in lacquered bowls and served on pedestals in the traditional style of honzen ryori. The difference between a kaiseki ryori and a honzen ryori is, quite roughly speaking, the focus: the former is a series of dishes to be served with sake (and that is why the rice comes at the end), while the latter is a meal in that the dishes are to be eaten with rice and soup.
Shigetsu's dining room was stifling with the steam rising from the hot pots. Lined up on two strips of red synthetic carpets on tatami were the diners - Italians, Americans, Chinese and Japanese - slurping soup, scratching behinds, spitting and shouting and snapping selfies. A simulacrum of what a mess in a Buddhist monastery must have been like - one of the few international places, well, maybe merely intercontinental, with the visiting Chinese and Korean teachers.
The soy milk hot pot came first. Pieces of wheat gluten (a.k.a., seitan), bean curd skins, and a tiny brown ball made of lotus root floated in the milky bath. However, the marvelous sight of the "pot," made out of folded paper, boiling above a burning blue flame captivated the attention longer than the stale flavor, as ponzu dipping sauce - soy sauce with citrus juice - was all there was for the entire pot. A goma-dofu - sesame tofu - is a typical delicacy of shojin ryori - made by churning a mixture of ground sesame seeds and kuzu (a root prized for its medicinal benefits) over and over clockwise on a low fire (so it is said, for over half an hour, depending on who is talking). Shigetsu's sesame tofu was unguent but not too heavy, like a good panna cotta, and when warmed by the palate, it released a satisfying savory scent and filled the mouth with its full-bodied nutty creaminess. So far so good, until the simulated wasabi ultimately spoiled the dish. The stew was a large piece of round gluten in dashi, which had a uniquely smooth sweetness, emanating from none other than the humble toasted soy beans. Aha! Finally, there appeared a glimmer of hope on the horizon of this bonito-congested dashi haze. The best was saved for the last, however: a piping hot, big ball made of ebi-imo (a type of indigenous taro) and okara (the debris of soy milk - no waste in shojin ryori), stuffed and fried, then dunked into a silky sauce. Despite its formidable appearance, the velvety ball melted gently in the mouth, revealing the hidden gems one by one - a ginko nut, a lily bulb, a shiitake and a strand of kombu.
While some of the dishes were plainly mediocre, their use of soy beans in the dashi and their attention to texture confirmed that the Japanese cuisine, the vegetarian version, was not dead. Not yet, anyway, if a commercially conscious Tenryu-ji could still produce such a high level of mass marketed shojin ryori.
If you want to learn more about vegan/vegetarian/shojin ryori, please visit my blog.