A little corner of Jitalia

I was watching tv yesterday, the adverts specifically - I always pay particular attention to the adverts, after all, that is where all the investment into entertainment goes - when I realised that I had just watched five commercials in a row, all of which were trying to get me to buy and consume (or have my pet dog consume) some food.  And all of it looked really good. 

Sure, it was in between a cooking program (60% of Japanese tv, by my estimates) and a New Variant Influenza update (20% of TV), which was soon followed by a variety show (featuring a quick and simple way to make a crispy, full-of-flavour fried chicken dish), but you can't walk down the street without being put into a walking trace by the smell of barbecued meat, checking out displays of replica katsudon, or being transfixed by a giant fish (happens to me all the time).   

And this is the conundrum - how is it that the incidence of overeating is, judging by the lack of full-bodied individuals, low ?  It could be that the average person in Japan is too modest to ask for Supersize.  Or, counterintuitively, because the food is so good, people eat slowly and thus get full quickly.

Whatever the reason, Michelin, the food rating arm of the tyre manufacturer (sounds like a Japanese business model), says that Tokyo has the most stars (191) of any city in the world.  And, according to hearsay, Japan has the best Italian restaurants outside of Italy.

Now, hearing something like that could only result in one thing.  Yes, a trip to an Italian restaurant in Japan.

Inside is fairly trendy.  Lots of blackboards with menu items in Japanese, spotlighting, and Italian music.  But something is missing.  Listen carefully - in place of the bold voice of a brash proprietor Mamma, there are the quiet, restrained voices, politely exchanging good-mannered conversation, customers are almost whispering to tiptoeing staff.  

Now, clearly, we need to be sensible to the local way of doing things.  The menu is entirely in Japanese, and it turns out that the right thing to do is not to start pointing all over the pizza list, interrogating the attentive, and moderately scared staff, on the type of cheeses available (causing dashing off to the kitchen), and then asking probing questions on the precise type of ham on offer (again causing dashing).  No, not at all.  However, if you are a foreigner and make the extraordinary faux pas of demanding ham on your four cheese pizza, then the staff will overlook your embarrassing behaviour, and diligently communicate your bizarre instructions to the kitchen, for immediate execution.  

Another early mistake follows early on.  While ordering table wine anywhere in Italy will invariably result in much happiness, the table wine here was export quality - the "let's export this somewhere far away from Italy" kind of export quality.

While waiting, you can see the level of authenticity by the genuine Italian labelled salt and pepper shakers.  I was going to ask, just out of curiosity, whether the waitress knew what this meant, or what the name of the restaurant (Felice) meant, but soon reconsidered when she reappeared and I saw the traumatic effect of my belligerence thus far.

OK, so for starters we basically need a salad.  What kind of salad?

Why, a modest portion of tako (octopus) sashimi carefully combined with avocado, covered with artistic aceto balsamico, on a plate the size of a bus wheel.  This was actually very good.  But not so much Italian as Jitalian.  Or, more correctly, "Jitariya".

Next up is a dish of potatoes covered with "basil sauce" (remarkably similar to pesto, which was not specified on the menu), and...

... our good friend Tako San again!  

By combining the crunchy bread with the tako, we are effectively eating a tako sashimi pesto sandwich - an unexpectedly good combo.

The pasta (this is like udon, but in an Italian style), comes with vegetables.

And here is what you've been waiting for - wow.  This really is authentic.  And perfectly chewy base too.  The green bit in the middle is gorgonzola (very expensive in Japan) - if you're not experiencing shivers of delight right now, then shame on you.

So, it turned out that Jitalian cuisine is, indeed a genius combination of authentic Itariya and raw octopus.

And this reminds me a little of the market - in two ways.

The same business in a different country could differ meaningfully in the details.  And, it never hurts to bring thinking from different areas together.