Chisou Nishi Kenichi: Modern French with unrivaled Shizuoka seafood

Before I even got in the taxi in front of Yaizu Station, the driver knew where I was headed.

“At this time of day, I can guess a customer is either having lunch at Chakaiseki Onjaku or Chisou Nishi Kenichi,” she says as we pull away from the taxi rank. In my case, it was the latter.

In recent years, Yaizu, a fishing port on the western shore of Suruga Bay in Shizuoka Prefecture, has quietly become a gourmet hotspot. Indeed, The Japan Times Destinations Restaurant team was here in 2022, when we featured the refined seafood fare of Chakaiseki Onjaku.

Suruga Bay has long been famous for its seafood. Reaching 2,500 meters in places, it’s Japan’s deepest bay with waters enriched by volcanic minerals from the Fuji and Oi rivers. These nutrients feed the abundant plankton that attract over 1,000 species of fish and make Suruga a prized fishing ground.

Much of Yaizu’s current appeal as a dining destination, however, can be attributed to one local fish shop in particular: Sasue Maeda, run by Naoki Maeda, its fifth-generation owner and a legend among chefs for his exceptional fish selection and handling practices. But Maeda doesn’t just sell fish — he has actually changed how local fishermen and chefs work, guiding the former toward better techniques and handpicking which fish to present to chefs based on their cooking styles.

Each morning, several local chefs — dubbed “Team Sasue” online — gather at Maeda’s store to receive the best of the day’s catch, deciding who gets what fish with a friendly game of rock-paper-scissors. Among them is chef Kenichi Nishi, who moved from Hiroshima to Yaizu to be closer to Sasue Maeda.

When a chef relocates to be within walking distance of his favorite fishmonger, you know the fish must be truly special.

Born and raised in Hiroshima, Nishi is modest when discussing why he became a chef.

“Honestly, I’d always loved eating and had the vague idea that working with food might be nice,” says Nishi, 44.

Rather than going to culinary school, at 20, Nishi began working in local eateries where he learned to cook the food he loved. At 27, he moved to Tokyo to work at Kaeriyama, an unpretentious French restaurant in the Akasaka neighborhood, where he first learned to make a classic fish pie — a version of which is now Nishi’s specialty.

After five years in Tokyo, he went to Paris for a year where he trained at L’Office, a restaurant started by young chefs who wanted to create something casual. This was part of the “bistronomy” trend of the time and clearly influenced the relaxed atmosphere Nishi brings to his own place.

Nishi first met Maeda in 2013 while working in Hiroshima. He had just returned from France and wanted to learn more about the handling of fish. Feeling that Japanese cuisine was more meticulous with seafood than French cuisine, he found a job at the high-end kaiseki (haute Japanese cuisine) restaurant Chisou Sottakuito under chef Hisamasa Hirano, who sourced his fish from Sasue Maeda.

In 2018, Nishi went out on his own and opened Chisou 2924 in Hiroshima. He kept in touch with Maeda, but the budding chef felt that it wasn’t until the third year after opening that he could do justice to Maeda’s fish — one of which made a particular impression on Nishi.

“Among Sasue Maeda’s fish, the mochiuma-gatsuo (a type of bonito prepared by Maeda) was shockingly exceptional — unlike any fish I’d ever tasted,” says Nishi. “After going independent, I was able to use it at my restaurant.

“But when I visited Yaizu for the first time and had a meal at Simples (run by chef Yasuhiko Inoue), I was surprised how different the bonito tasted. The bonito sent to Hiroshima takes about a day and a half to arrive, whereas the one at Simples was caught in the afternoon and served that same evening. That difference is crucial to the taste. Once I learned that, it sparked my desire to work with fish of the same freshness.”

With Maeda’s encouragement, Nishi moved to Yaizu, opening his eponymous restaurant in 2022.

Relying on the day’s catch as he does, Nishi’s menu is driven by the seasons, and my lunch begins with a simple soup of grilled summer corn drizzled with smoked pumpkinseed oil. Next is ebodai (Japanese butterfish), fried in a French-style batter but cooked in refined taihaku sesame oil, giving it a tempura-like aroma.

“Ebodai is usually dried,” says Nishi. “But it would be a waste to dry this fish. Under Maeda’s supervision, the flesh retains its moisture without dripping. So as heat is applied, the fish stays juicy and full of flavor. It’s soft, unlike any ebodai you’ll have tasted before.”

During the meal, Nishi gives more detail on why Maeda’s fish are in such demand.

“(The fishermen Maeda works with) use fixed-net fishing, where hundreds of kilos of fish are usually pulled up at once. But for the fish we receive, the fishermen go to the nets before pulling them up and use a small net called a tamo to hand-pick the most vigorous swimmers for Maeda.

“These fish are then placed in a tank on the boat. When they arrive at the port, Maeda is waiting with large tanks of seawater, matched to the sea’s temperature and salinity. The fish swim for a while, which releases their stress, so they remain in excellent condition. This is why the quality of the fish from the same fixed-net catch can be completely different.”

The raw aji (horse mackerel) that Nishi serves next is further proof of that quality. Marinated in sanshō pepper oil and soy sauce, topped with finely chopped red onions and dressed in a French-style vinaigrette, the portion is cut thicker than carpaccio (or sashimi) normally would be.

“We want guests to enjoy cutting it themselves — to highlight the texture and in turn the umami of the fish,” says Nishi. “In Japanese cuisine, food tends to be prepared bite-sized, but with a knife and fork you experience something new. This level of freshness is rare. The bounce-back in the texture is remarkable.”

The taste, too, is a revelation. It had none of the fishy smell I normally associate with aji, and the texture was completely different. If I was eating it with my eyes closed, I don’t believe I would have picked it as aji.

“When we opened the fish’s belly at morning prep, we found sakura shrimp inside,” explains Nishi. “They’ve been gorging on those shrimp, which makes the fish really nutritious and incredibly delicious.”

Despite his French training, typical Japanese aromas fill Nishi’s kitchen. The unmistakable scent of warayaki (straw grilling) lingers as he cooks squid and suma-gatsuo (mackerel tuna), which is served both raw as sashimi and grilled, the contrasting textures highlighting the natural flavor of the fish.

Nishi follows this with the most amazingly soft and flaky kinmedai (splendid alfonsino) I have ever tasted. Perched atop cucumber “noodles” in an umami-rich broth, the kinmedai’s bright orange skin gleams against tender and moist white meat.

“Kinmedai are deep-sea fish, and not many survive the ascent (when caught),” he says. “But the ones that do are prepared with shinkeijime (a killing technique that stops the nervous system immediately after the fish is caught). It gives them a surprising softness.”

Throughout the meal, Nishi works in front of his guests at the eight-seat counter. Watching him make his famous fish pie is a treat, as he deftly wraps discs of thin dough around portions of fish bundled inside leaves of hakusai (napa cabbage) with onion and shiso (perilla). He then quickly bakes the pies at a high temperature, ensuring the fish remains moist, steamed inside the cabbage without leaking into the pastry. The individual pies are served with a sauce made from a seafood broth, sherry vinegar and cream.

It is the most French dish of the meal, and slicing into the crispy pastry to discover what’s inside is a delight. The fish changes each day — today, it is tachiuo (beltfish), an eel-like fish that is in season and thrives in Suruga Bay.

After the pie, the main meal wraps up with a rice dish in the form of a bouillabaisse risotto before two simple desserts arrive. The bouillabaisse is made with offcuts of all the fish that appeared in today’s meal. This is Nishi’s nod to the Provencal fish soup from Marseille that he felt would suit Yaizu’s similar history as a fishing port — an elegant way to end an eye-opening experience.

With fish at this level of freshness and flavor, I almost wonder if I can ever enjoy fish outside Yaizu again.