Slow Eating in Kyoto —
The City Where Food Is a Ritual

Ever pictured a restaurant where the chef knows what you'll eat the moment you walk in? Kaiseki is exactly that — 10 to 15 courses arranged around the current season, starting with a small bite to open the palate and ending with rice and miso soup. There's no menu to choose from; the chef decides everything. Hyotei in the Nanzenji district began as a teahouse for monks back in the late 16th century — the only restaurant in the world run by the same family for 14 generations. Kikunoi, by chef Murata Yoshihiro, has three Michelin stars and takes online bookings.

A dish that may not sound exciting on paper — but sit in a Japanese garden in front of Nanzenji Temple, eating pure white silken tofu simmered in hot konbu-seaweed broth and dipped in soy sauce with grated scallion, and it becomes an experience quiet enough to hear yourself eat. Junsei (順正), a restaurant with a 1,200-tsubo garden that's been open over 100 years, serves a yudofu set for ¥2,600 per person, the menu also including yuba (tofu skin). Okutan Nanzenji has been at it since 1635 — if there's one restaurant you have to try in Kyoto, this is it.

If kaiseki is a work of art, obanzai is the food Kyoto housewives cook every day — many kinds of vegetables prepared in different ways, dashi that isn't too sweet, soy that isn't too salty, everything balanced and colourful. Good obanzai must use Kyo yasai (Kyoto heirloom vegetables) grown in the Kyoto area, with at least half the ingredients sourced locally. Nishiki Warai near Nishiki Market serves it buffet-style for ¥1,000 — you pick your own tray and can taste 10 kinds of Kyoto vegetables in one sitting.

A city with no sea that makes the best ocean-fish sushi in Japan — it sounds contradictory, but there's a reason. Kyoto has imported mackerel from Wakasa Bay since ancient times, along an 80 km route known as the "Saba Kaido," and along the way the fish was salt-cured to preserve it. The rice is pressed into a long rectangular shape, the fish laid on top, then the whole thing wrapped in konbu seaweed — a little sour from the curing, salty from the fish, fragrant from the seaweed. Izuju, near Yasaka Shrine, has been open for hundreds of years and holds a Michelin star, proof that the quality is real and not marketing.

Picture tofu before it becomes tofu — the moment hot soy milk is simmering and a thin skin forms on the surface. Yuba is that skin, lifted off while still hot, eaten fresh or dried. Fresh, it's as soft as wet silk; dried, it's chewy and springy. Kyoto's fresh yuba is more renowned than the Nikko version up north, because Kyoto's water is soft and low in minerals, letting the clean soybean flavour come through. Try it at Junsei alongside the yudofu, or at Tofu Ryori Okumura, which builds its whole menu around tofu dishes.

Vegetarian food that doesn't just cut out the meat — it's designed to bring body and mind to stillness. No meat, fish, onion, garlic or chives (believed to stir the emotions). Made from tofu, vegetables, mushrooms, seaweed, beans and grains, served in proportioned boxes. One meal makes you realise vegetables can do far more than you thought. Tenryu-ji temple in Arashiyama has a temple restaurant called Shigetsu, ¥4,000, where you eat while looking out over the garden — an experience that's genuinely rare in the world.

A city whose confectioners (wagashishi) are reckoned the best in Japan — because Kyoto is the home of the tea ceremony, and the sweets eaten with the tea have to be good enough not to be outshone by it. Kyoto wagashi take natural seasonal shapes: cherry blossoms in April, red leaves in November, snow in January. Tsuruya Yoshinobu, open since 1803, has a counter at its Karasuma main store where you can watch namagashi (fresh sweets made in front of you) and have them served with matcha in a calm, quiet room, ¥1,500–2,000 per set — watch and eat at the same time.

The souvenir you can't skip if you come to Kyoto — a cinnamon-flavoured rice-flour wafer, thin and crisp in the baked "Yaki" form, or soft and chewy in the "Nama" form wrapping red bean or matcha inside. The slightly astringent cinnamon of Yaki Yatsuhashi and the matcha filling of Nama Yatsuhashi are a pairing Japan created for you to take home on the train. At Nishiki Market several shops sell it, all roughly equally tasty, but Izutsu Yatsuhashi Main Store in Higashiyama has been making it since 1805 and still uses the original recipe. Nama sweets expire in 3–5 days; the baked wafers keep for a month.

If you want to taste matcha for what it really is, Kyoto (and Uji next door) is the best place in the world — because the tea has been grown here since the 12th century, and it's still a GI (Geographical Indication) area that certifies the quality. A good Kyoto matcha parfait layers matcha ice cream, warabi-mochi, mochi, red bean and dried nori seaweed, the bitterness of the tea balancing the sweetness just right. Saryo Tsujiri at Teramachi has the longest queue in the city, but it's worth the wait — the ¥1,200 parfait has not a single ingredient that disappoints.

One of the oldest restaurants still operating in Japan — open since 1465, when Europe didn't even know America existed. It began as a confectionery selling to the court before turning into a soba shop in the 17th century. The soba here is hand-cut every day, mid-thickness dark-coloured noodles, eaten "seiro" (cold, dipped in sauce) or "kake" (hot, in dashi broth). Nothing complicated — but the quality of the ingredients makes the simplicity feel special. The seating is an old-style sitting room that reflects how Kyoto respects its past.