During our trip to Kochi, we had lunch at a very pleasant place called Tokugetsu House 「得月楼」. This was an old building that has been around since Edo period. The name alone is already adorned with an aura of historical charm.
But unfortunately, the English equivalent just doesn't do justice to its name. 「得月」 roughly translates to 'capturing/captivating the moon'. The word 楼 tells us that this is a building of significant history, a Chinese term used to describe a restaurant hotel complex of the past. This romantic nuance similar to that of ancient poetry is exactly what gives Tokugetsu House its allure.
This old grand house is currently serving as a restaurant that serves traditional Japanese bento. By bento, I’m not referring to the cute bento school-girls take to school, nor the convenient bento of 7-11 you are thinking of. We are talking, full-on, grand and elegant, high-class, obento.
Amidst the loud escalation of modern eatery, traditional obento stays true to Japanese roots and remains a modest part of Japanese dining culture. In my opinion, traditional obento is a perfect example of integrating aesthetics into daily life. The idea is that visuals alone has a great impact on taste, so appearance is an indispensable part of each meal.
Each little bite is elegantly decorated and placed with great care. The whole meal was a piece of art, the whole experience an elegant show. You really wouldn’t know where to start, or if the scenery before you is even meant for eating.
To be perfectly honest, I'm wasn’t the biggest fan of these high-class bento taste-wise. The flavour is very unique and is best describe as an acquired taste. However, I soon came to understand that people do not come simply for the food, but for the experience. Traditional Japanese dining culture is never just about the food, but about helping people forget their worries the moment they step inside. Dining here at Tokugetsu House has never been a better example of it.
The experience started from the moment we entered the house. It was a wet day and having shelter over our heads was already comforting for our souls. Two elderly ladies greeted us with their elegant kimono carefully folded around their delicate frame, not a wrinkle in sight.
We were immediately led through the complex manor, the faded tatami smell a comforting presence. The complexity of this house is no exaggeration because I had no idea a Japanese house could have so many hallways, rooms, as well as stairways that continued to fuel one's curiosity.
Mutual gasps accompanied the arrival to our dining space. Everyone rushed forward excitedly like hungry children, except not towards the food, but the beauty beyond. Like a large mural, wide window panels hung from ceiling, lining the inner balcony and revealed the beautiful inner garden painted with lush shades of green.
Our host didn't need to say anything. She didn't need to explain or to comment, she just smiled and let the power of nature do the talking. As the rain continued to fall, that soft hush of the rain flowing through me, all other surrounding sounds muted out. I was alone.
I suddenly realised how insignificant I was, just one human, one being, one existence amidst the powerful movement of nature, of time, of fate. This realisation was strangely comforting.
I think the most powerful messages are the ones that needs no explanations, and from silence alone the message is conveyed.
The charm of Tokugetsu House did exactly that.
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