Beyond Japan NYC is a YouTube channel dedicated to spotlighting the voices and stories of Japanese culture in New York and beyond. In this interview, I spoke about my journey as a Japanese chef and cookbook author in America.
Before my first book was published, I faced many rejections and setbacks.
It was only through perseverance—and the belief of one small publisher—that I was able to bring my work to readers and begin my career in Japanese cuisine in the United States. This story is not only about sushi and cooking, but also about resilience, trust, and following your passion. I hope it inspires others who are working hard to achieve their own dreams.
Beyond Japan NYC is created by videographer Midori Owaki, who is originally from Tokyo and now lives in Long Island, NY, with her family. With a B.A. and M.A. in Cultural Studies and Applied Anthropology from Keio University and Columbia University’s Teachers College, Midori brings both expertise and passion to her work. Through Beyond Japan NYC, she showcases New York’s vibrant Japanese community and the people keeping cultural traditions alive across borders.
I am grateful to Midori for sharing my story and for her ongoing work in connecting audiences with Japanese culture.
I was born in Kanazawa, Ishikawa Prefecture.
This is a region once governed by the Maeda clan—the second-most powerful feudal lords after the Tokugawa during the Edo period (1600–1868). Under the prosperous Maeda domain, Kanazawa, flourished as a center of refined art and culture, earning its nickname ‘Little Kyoto.’
Among the city’s many elegant regional okashi (Japanese sweets), the 400-year-old Chitose from Morihachi Confectionery Company remains especially memorable.
Chitose translates to a thousand years.
This sweet consists of silky adzuki bean paste, lightly sweetened with rice syrup, wrapped in an exquisitely tender mochi sheet and dusted with fine powdered sugar. The sweets are traditionally paired in white and soft reddish-pink, colors that make them a favorite for celebratory occasions throughout the year.
Though Chitose has no direct connection to plum blossoms, its delicate appearance always reminded me of a white-and-red-pink ume flower. I dream of savoring Chitose while admiring the gentle beauty of blooming ume.
I have always loved my mother’s family crest, the kamon (家紋).
Hers is the Umebachi (梅鉢) crest, a design of five larger circles arranged in a pentagon around a smaller central circle, resembling a plum blossom viewed from above. Japan has more than 20,000 family crests and over 100 variations of plum-blossom design alone.
The history of the family crest dates back to the 8th through 12th centuries, when courtiers used designs drawn from nature on their ox carts and other belongings to distinguish themselves from others and show their power.
Next, in the Kamakura period (1185-1333), a period of Japan’s civil war, warriors adorned their kabuto helmets with highly stylized versions of their family crests to distinguish themselves from others and express their mighty power. When the Edo period (1600-1868) began, commoners were allowed to use family crests; at the time, surnames were not yet permitted. In 1875, all citizens were allowed to carry a surname, and the family crest became a symbol of all families.
Battle of SekigaharaCredit: Gifu History Museum
The Battle of Sekigahara, fought on October 21, 1600, marked a decisive turning point in Japanese history. The clash split the nation into Eastern and Western factions, and its outcome opened the path for Tokugawa Ieyasu to unify the country, leading to nearly three centuries of tightly managed peace. managed peace. In this scene, you find hundreds of crests representing the participating armies, each one symbolizing a clan that took part in the battle.
Daki-kashiwa: My father’s family crest
Many samurai families connected to the Maeda clan used the Umebachi crest. My mother often reminded me—many times over—that her great-grandfather had served the Maeda clan. I own several formal kimonos, each bearing a family crest prominently displayed at the center of the back. The crest on my kimonos, however, is not my mother’s but my father’s: Daki-kashiwa (抱き柏).
The oak leaf, kashiwa, has long been regarded as sacred. In ancient times, oak leaves were used as vessels for offerings to the gods. Because old oak leaves do not fall until new ones emerge, the kashiwa came to symbolize the continuity of the family line and, by extension, prosperity for future generations. For this reason, the oak-leaf motif has been favored by courtiers and warriors since antiquity.
Unfortunately, I foresee my Shimbo family line, including other Shimbo relatives, coming to an end when my sister eventually passes. There are no sons to carry on the name and inherit it. I am blessed to continue to use Daki-kashiwa as my business logo on my cards and website until the end.
Japanese craftsmanship permeates daily life through food production, culinary arts, food presentation, textiles, traditional gardens, architecture, and artworks.
Each year, Meiji Jingu 明治神宮, Tokyo's most popular shrine, draws 3 million visitors. We deliver the message, including a New Year’s resolution, to the gods and ancestors and ask for their protection for the year.
