Japanese cuisine's second coming in India

Currently undergoing a renaissance, Japanese cuisine in India is no longer a timid imitation, but a bold reimagining. Local ingredients, innovative techniques and narrative-led plates now define a cuisine that’s reborn and re-rooted, finds Raul Dias.

Like a bowl once shattered, joined again with venous tracks of molten gold, the story of Japanese cuisine in India gleams brighter, not despite its past cracks, but because of them. It is the story of a culinary kintsugi. A decades-long repair of broken clichés, lazy interpretations, and hesitant palates. Once seen only through the hazy prism of sushi rolls sloppily slathered with mayonnaise and tepid, flavour-bereft miso shiru (soup) in five-star hotels, Japanese cuisine has found more soulful, more intricate expressions across India. And it is now beautiful. Dare we even say... transcendent?

Today, a quiet revolution stirs in bowls of porky tonkotsu ramen, shimmies atop flame-kissed yakitori skewers, and finds itself reflected in the sheen of precisely sliced sashimi. It’s not just a movement. It’s a reawakening of sorts.

Of Ebbs and Flows

At the confluence of this flow is Izumi, a name that seems almost predestined, given that it means “stream” in Japanese. From a tucked-away corner in Bandra, Mumbai to the tourist-infested lanes of Assagao, Goa, chef and co-founder Nooresha Kably has let the current of her vision meander yet stay pure. “What we’re doing isn’t about chasing trends. It’s about honouring the soul of the cuisine while adapting to our soil,” shares Kably. “We stay rooted by thinking seasonal and regional. It’s why our fresh shiitake mushrooms, mustard leaves (that are similar to wasabi in flavour), pork and silken tofu used in dishes like agedashi and shiraae are all sourced locally. Brown Koji Boy in Goa supplies us with some of our miso varieties, too.”

However, certain things can’t be substituted to keep true to the cuisine. This means, at Izumi, sashimi-grade fish—that goes into dishes like the kombu kelp-cured kombujime salmon anointed with a yuzu dressing, shiso (perilla leaf) garnish and crispy capers — is sourced with near-militant precision directly from Japan. But sushi rice specially grown up north in Haryana is purposefully sought, and rare herbs like the aforementioned shiso are procured locally or imported mindfully. “We built our relationships with our suppliers and farmers the way Japanese cuisine builds flavour — slowly, respectfully, with care.”

This devotion isn’t isolated. Just a few metres away from Izumi in neighbouring Khar, and parlaying the same water leitmotif, given that its name means just that — water, Mizu offers another haiku in restraint. Chef Lakhan Jethani, who weathered the storm of relocation post-pandemic (from an earlier mid-town Mumbai mall location) with grit and determination, has created a totem to the izakaya (an informal Japanese bar) spirit. Served in Mizu’s warm wood interiors, we find fatty tuna taru taru, hamachi (yellowtail amberjack) drizzled with house-made garam masala-smoked ponzu, and Hokkaido scallop nigiri brushed with umami-rich tare (dipping sauce). “There was a time when diners didn’t know their chutoro from akami,” Jethani says with a half-smile speaking of the two different types of bluefin tuna cuts. “But now we even have pre-teen kids walk in asking where the tuna came from—Tsukiji or Toyosu (markets in Tokyo)? Some even say, ‘Just send whatever you think we’ll love, chef.’ That’s how trust has changed.”

And it is that trust that has emboldened Jethani enough to push the experimentation envelope even further at Mizu. “We wanted to start using Indian ingredients like gondhoraj lebu in lieu of yuzu (in our salmon gondhoraj with wasabi crème fraiche, for example). But the idea was to process them the way the Japanese would have treated them and come up with something unique that had to have stood out, even in Japan.”

Interestingly, Mizu, like Izumi, now has a Goa outpost in Siolim, with whispers of a small omakase (literally, “I leave it up to you”)-style restaurant-in-restaurant soon to bloom there in October. Perhaps India’s first of its kind.

Table Theatre!

While these spaces talk of refinement and quiet reverence, others bring show and theatre. Enter Kuuraku, a globally celebrated Japanese restaurant brand with a footprint in seven cities across India and now, freshly kindled, at Phoenix Palladium Mall in Lower Parel, Mumbai. At their new outlet, Robata Kuuraku, fire serves as the fulcrum. “Instead of traditional sumi (charcoal), we use lava stones called yougan to achieve a sear that’s very much our USP,” explains chef Yoshitaka Tagawa, the brand’s COO. Here, the sizzle of robatayaki meets the sophistication of high-grade ingredients. “This is because the (Indian) diner is now more curious and health-aware than ever before. One big change we noticed is the growing interest in grilled food over fried items, which encouraged us to launch this latest branch that’s focused on robata grilling.”

Tofu goma salad, a Japanese style tofu salad with spicy sesame dressing at Robata Kuuraku.

Still in Mumbai, Gaijin — literally “foreigner” — an izakaya-style restaurant that opened at Khar, in April this year, walks the edge of tradition with a side of deliberate provocation and drama. Chef-owner Anand Morwani and his team embrace their outsider lens, crafting morel nigiri, kombu-aged fish, and even lobster nigiri brûléed tableside with an aji amarillo chilli emulsion. “The diner today is more open and playful,” Morwani believes. “They’re not just looking for authenticity. They want narrative, technique, and a sense of personal connection with the food. At Gaijin, we’ve leaned into that by offering dishes like the truffle corn gunkan, a smoky, umami-rich bite wrapped like a street snack but built with miso, rayu oil, truffle, and togarashi.”

This interpretation extends north, to Gurugram’s seven-month-old Kioki, where chef Vikram Khatri does things a tad differently like making his own miso in-house, while most others outsource it. “Interest in ramen, robatayaki, and fermented ingredients like miso and koji (a type of mould called Aspergillus oryzae) has grown significantly (among Indian diners). The rise of home-grown Japanese culinary talent and collaborations between Japanese chefs and Indian kitchens have played a big role. What was once a niche is now nuanced,” he notes.

At Kioki, small plates are king. There’s eggplant nibitashi served as an amuse-bouche, and a vegan eel nigiri (crafted from broiled eggplant) that’s won over even the staunchest sceptics. “Our guests are not only more open-minded, but many come in already familiar with terms like dashi, tamagoyaki, or agedashi tofu. This allows us to go deeper with our offerings,” Khatri says.

The Nikkei Era

If Japanese cuisine in India is experiencing a renaissance, then Wabi Sabi at The Oberoi, Bengaluru on MG Road is where the brushstrokes of that revival blur into something far more global and thrilling. At the helm is chef Randy Cultivo, whose latest limited-edition tasting menu titled ‘From Lima with Love’ places the restaurant firmly at the vanguard of India’s emerging Nikkei cuisine wave.

Nikkei, born of Japanese migrants adapting to Peru’s native bounty, is a fusion of necessity and innovation. “Nikkei cuisine has gained immense popularity in India because of its unique flavour profile of tart, umami, spice, and sweetness,” Cultivo explains. His creations mirror this culinary syncretism: granita pearls made from jamun extract glisten over citrus-forward ceviches of lychee, grapefruit, and tangerine, while the sushi selection playfully twists tradition. The ‘Blazing Inferno’, a torched carpaccio roll of Karnataka tenderloin, truffle, shiitake aioli and nikiri tare, stands as proof of his belief that “Indian diners are paying attention to high end, organic and premium international ingredients like bluefin tuna and Hokkaido scallops.”

But Cultivo is quick to point out that Wabi Sabi’s Nikkei tasting menu isn’t just a whimsical flirtation, it’s a bold statement of culinary cross-pollination. “Because this hybrid cuisine merges Japanese culinary skills with Peruvian ingredients and even borrows from immigrant Italian influences.”

Across the Yamuna again, at Japonico that also opened in Gurugram earlier this year, chef Roberto Blondi melds contemporary Japanese robata style preparations with a Nikkei twist. This means one gets to partake in dishes like the Chilean sea bass yakitori that’s infused with the smokiness of the robata grill and hints of aji amarillo chilli.

Chef Roberto Blondi of Japanico and Latango.

Another example is his signature spicy tekka hako zushi, a block-pressed sushi with minced raw tuna topping which is a paean to both heritage and modernity. “I discovered that back in the day in Japan, sushi rolls weren’t present but the hako zushi style was. So I decided to keep the Japanese traditional technique by twisting the toppings for the taste profile and spice demand of the Indian diner,” says Blondi.

Japonico’s new sister venture, Latango — also helmed by Blondi — in central New Delhi’s Nehru Place, may be a European concept, but a few Japanese flourishes peek through. Thus, reinforcing the gravitas of Japanese cuisine in India today. “Take for instance the burrata and truffle shokupan (soft Japanese milk bread) which is very similar to Italian bruschetta. So I kept Japanese technique as a base of the dish, but using classic Italian products like burrata and truffle. For the crab gunkan maki it’s the opposite, in that, I’ve kept Italian technique as a base and Japanese technique to dress and use the crab with a ribbon of cucumber encircling the maki in place of a nori sheet,” explains Blondi.

Threads of Taste

If there is an invisible thread that binds all these places and chefs together, it is this: a balance between boldness and reverence. Japanese cuisine in India is no longer an exotic affair. It is rooted, crafted, and deeply considered. Diners no longer fear raw tastes and textures. They speak the language of kombu and goma (sesame seeds) as fluently as they do that of coriander and garam masala. Supply chains have strengthened. Shiitake now grows in the Nilgiris and seaweed foraged in the seas off Goa and Tamil Nadu. Even sushi rice has been trial-farmed on Indian soil — first in Himachal Pradesh and now, commercially in Haryana—while Yuzu’s desi cousin gondhoraj lebu zests its way into delicate ebi (prawn) tatatkis with equanimity.

What once felt intimidating now feels intimate. No longer are we trying to replicate Japan. Au contraire, we’re crafting something wholly Indian and undeniably Japanese at once.

And perhaps, that is the most Japanese thing of all.

Raul Dias is a Mumbai-based food and travel writer who’s work can be found at raulontheprowl.blogspot.in

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