"Proper knowledge" becomes the most delicious sauce.

Even when physically apart, skillfully using technology can make us feel closer than ever before. A slight shift in perspective can create entirely new connections. The new lifestyle emerging in the wake of COVID-19 could be called "Remote Connection Life" (Remote Connection Life). Remote Connection Life is Remote Communication Life, and it also creates Remote Comfortable Life. This series explores the "future vision" of this lifestyle—staying connected while physically apart—through conversations between magazine editors and Dentsu Inc. creators.
For the 10th installment, we spoke with Hiroo Ueno, Editor-in-Chief of "dancyu".

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<Table of Contents>
▼[Remote Connection Life Story #10: Knowledge is the Ultimate Resource]
▼ Stores with Loyal "Fans" Are Strong
▼ The Balance Between "Chikaba" and "Itsuka" is Crucial
▼ The "Proper Desire" That Saves Japanese Food Culture
▼ To Reset the Misalignment in Perceived Value
▼ "Just plain delicious" is the ultimate delicious

The damage to the restaurant industry from COVID-19 is immeasurable. Yet even amid this crisis, Editor-in-Chief Ueno notes that some restaurants see no drop in customers—some even see patrons spending more than ever. What's the difference? According to Ueno, it boils down to whether the customers were merely "customers" or true "fans" of the establishment.

How will "remote-controlled living" transform "food," especially "dining out"? What is needed for the evolution of "food culture"? Based on Editor-in-Chief Ueno's insights, we've compiled a brief story.

Tomohiro Nozawa (Dentsu Inc. 1CRP Bureau)

Illustration: Taro Uryu

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Remote Control Life Story #10: Knowledge is the Best Sauce
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(Case of Ayako Katsumi / Manufacturer Employee / Age 33)

"Alright, we're about to begin, so everyone, please move to where you can see the kitchen."

The chef's baritone voice echoed throughout the restaurant, and the customers who had been seated at tables all lined up in front of the counter at once. At Ristorante "Conoscenza," there's a "preparation time" between lunch and dinner service. Once a week, the chef demonstrates the preparation of the dishes to be served that evening, complete with explanations.

Ayako first discovered this restaurant, quietly nestled within a residential neighborhood, during the stay-at-home period. Unable to travel far, she wandered aimlessly around her neighborhood. "Conoscenza" means "knowledge" in Italian, and true to its name, the restaurant provides exceptionally detailed explanations about the ingredients and cooking methods during meals—something rarely found elsewhere. "Knowledge is the best sauce." That's the chef's motto. With six counter seats and four table seats, it was never a large restaurant, yet it was always full whenever Ayako visited. It seemed to be a well-known gem among the initiated, with many loyal, long-time fans, but its popularity has skyrocketed since COVID.

Before the pandemic, the "prep time" gatherings were mostly attended by chefs seeking to learn. However, after streaming videos during the lockdown period, ordinary people began coming to watch too. Since experiencing "prep time" for the first time about half a year ago, Ayako started attending at least once a month. Today, her husband, who happened to be off work, came along too.

"Today's main is lamb..." the chef announced, pulling a large cut from the refrigerator as he spoke over the counter. "This is 'Yanagawa Lamb'. It comes from about ten farms in Oshu City, deep in the inland region of Iwate Prefecture. The sheep are raised right in the farmers' own backyards. Perhaps because they're so deeply cherished, the flavor is incredibly pure and beautiful."

As he spoke, the chef deftly scored the meat with his knife. It must be hard to talk and work at the same time, but it seemed to be in his nature; he worked while chatting, looking genuinely happy. One camera was positioned to capture the entire kitchen, another focused on the chef's hands, simultaneously streaming live.

"When lamb is truly fresh, it has absolutely no gamey smell and is incredibly tender. I highly recommend seeking out domestic lamb." My husband, who I thought wasn't particularly interested in cooking, was listening intently, nodding deeply at the chef's words.

Once the lamb preparation finished, the prep moved on to whitebait landed at Miura Port, arugula only found in Tochigi Prefecture, and more. Each ingredient had a story about how its producer cultivated it, and the chef had a reason for choosing it – it was truly fascinating.

"Actually, none of these are particularly expensive or hard to find," the chef said, holding a large shrimp close to the customer's face. "Even ingredients you casually see at the supermarket have stories. You can eat them without thinking, or you can eat them knowing their story. Of course, delicious things taste good even without knowing anything about them. But delicious things become even more delicious when you 'know' about them."

Since starting to eat at "conoscenza," Ayako's shopping habits changed. She'd always liked and been good at cooking, but after having children, she was just barely managing to cook and had no time to carefully select each ingredient. Then, watching the chef make risotto in an earthenware pot during "prep time" sparked her interest, and she started properly cooking rice in an earthenware pot at home too. Naturally, this made her want to truly understand rice and learn the proper way to wash it. Before long, she asked the chef for recommendations on farms, and she and her family even started taking drives to see the rice paddies.

"A chef's role is to connect the people who grow the ingredients with the people who eat them," the chef said cheerfully to the guests after finishing a series of preparations. "In a way, you could say we're translators. We have to know all sorts of things about ingredients, constantly get out and try new foods, and keep sharing what we learn."

Just listening to the chef talk made my stomach growl louder and louder. At the same time, I somehow felt like I'd already eaten and was full.

"Now, what shall we have tonight?" Ayako smiled at her husband, who had grown considerably thanks to her passion for cooking.

(This story is fictional. It bears no relation to any real persons or organizations.)

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Restaurants with loyal "fans" are strong

Please take a look at the interview with Hiroo Ueno, Editor-in-Chief of "dancyu," which served as inspiration for the above "Remote Control Life Story."

One thing I realized anew about food during the pandemic is that even if popular restaurants that are hard to book start offering takeout, people still flock to them. Meanwhile, unassuming neighborhood eateries just doing their thing still have locals coming in for regular meals. Of course, normal operations aren't possible, but I noticed again that even with COVID, where people go hasn't changed much. And that restaurants with "fans" – not just customers – are strong.

Restaurants with loyal fans stay busy even with shortened hours. In fact, customers seem more willing to spend during times like these. People who usually just order a glass of wine might buy a bottle for the restaurant, or even leave drinks saying, "Here, have this" even if they can't come themselves (laughs). Those who love the place feel compelled to protect it. Restaurants with that kind of customer base will likely be okay.

Balancing "Chikaba" and "Itsuka" is crucial

Especially since the stay-home requests started, I've been adding "#ChikabaAndItsuka" on social media. I thought, "Times like these are actually a chance to discover delicious things in your neighborhood." Like, I walked into a butcher shop I always passed by on my way to work and found they actually had delicious croquettes. Or, taking a different route I never usually take, I discovered a small deli selling tasty simmered beans. I think opportunities like these have increased. At the same time, I feel that by letting my imagination run wild with thoughts like "But I really want to go to that shop someday" or "I want to go eat that someday," I end up liking the place even more, and the joy of actually going there later will be even greater.

So, if you strike a good balance between "Chikaba" and "Itsuka," I think foodies can find more enjoyment even in the COVID era. But regardless of COVID, if everyone maintains a balanced sense of "Chikaba" and "Itsuka" in any era, Japan's food culture should be properly preserved and continue to evolve.

The "Proper Desire" to Save Japanese Food Culture

Personally, I'm anxious that while "Japanese food" is evolving now, "Japanese food culture" is in danger of regressing. For example, there's been a lot of focus on aspects that differ from the essential "joy of eating," like desperately trying to get a reservation a year in advance at a popular restaurant or waiting in line for two hours at a ramen shop. However, after going through the COVID period, I feel like those people are starting to realize they were actually pushing themselves too hard or are getting a little tired of that kind of thing.

As these people start asking, "So what is the true 'joy of eating'?" I feel a significant shift in food trends toward "simple things" or "primitive things." Humans tend to revert to these primal instincts when the world feels uncertain or crisis strikes. For example, during the stay-at-home period, women started baking sweets, while men turned to stews.

Sure, part of it was "because we had time," but baking from scratch with flour feels like getting back to the roots of food, doesn't it? Simmering a chunk of meat is also a fundamental act of cooking. From there, people who'd mindlessly bought rice at the supermarket and cooked it in a rice cooker started thinking, "Trying it in a clay pot is delicious and kind of fun."

From there, it naturally expanded: "Maybe I'll try a different kind of rice," "Oh, choosing and buying rice makes it taste amazing," "Then I should look into the proper way to rinse it." By revisiting the fundamentals, options naturally broadened, and people started actively seeking out deliciousness.

After the pandemic hit, we ran a feature on "Proper Japanese Cuisine," and it seems the emphasis on "proper" resonated strongly, earning high praise from readers. Right now, everyone's feeling frustrated, right? Things aren't going as planned, they can't eat what they want. But frustration, when channeled effectively, can become power. So, things that address this "proper desire" seem to be very well received by everyone. Even if the pandemic subsides and things return to normal, I believe the underlying power of "facing things properly," "eating properly," "buying proper things," and "participating properly" will remain.

To realign the sense of value

Even before COVID, the sense of value for money was already a bit skewed. You'd find local pubs offering drinks for 100 yen, incredibly cheap, while Ginza sushi restaurants charged 40,000 or 50,000 yen per person. It wasn't about deflation or inflation; the sense of what things, food, or services were worth had become seriously distorted. Especially during the pandemic, the mindset that you can't sell unless you're cheap became the norm. Even after the pandemic subsides, this mindset will linger.

This makes me worry that truly good food, made with proper ingredients, might become harder to sell at a premium. Paradoxically, this could mean that earnest, quality establishments lose popularity, while people flock to the extremes – either the cheapest or the most expensive places. This is one of the post-pandemic challenges we face.

To restore a healthy concept of value, I believe the only way is for shops that operate honestly and properly to be properly valued. Though small, I think media like "dancyu" can play a role by properly covering such places, proposing truly ordinary deliciousness, ordinary enjoyment, and fair value.

"Ordinary deliciousness" is the ultimate deliciousness.

"dancyu" operates under the concept: "Knowing is delicious." Yet it's not your typical "gourmet information magazine." When asked what "dancyu" is, I say: "It's a magazine that wants to propose plans for food lovers, by food lovers, to make eating more delicious and enjoyable." In a way, I believe that's the mission of print.

Take restaurants, for example. While online platforms excel at quantifying and ranking them, "dancyu" aims to introduce what we can't rank: the "ordinary deliciousness." Our ultimate goal isn't fleeting trends of the moment, but something more universal – a "universal ordinary deliciousness." The editor-in-chief can easily say, "Go find some ordinarily delicious places," but it's tough for our staff. They have to actually find those "ordinarily delicious places" (laughs).

From now on, "ordinary" will become a truly important word. Personally, I think it's fantastic that we've rediscovered the appeal of the ordinary, or rather, that we've become able to truly engage with it.

Perhaps we're now in an era where we're being prompted to reevaluate fundamental values, not just in food but across all of culture. Even if something bigger than COVID-19 happens in the future, if we keep striving to live normally, we might not have to panic so much.

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[From the Remote Control Life Team]
From Editor-in-Chief Ueno's remarks, we've identified
Here are the keywords for enjoying Remote Control Life more fully.

◉ Delicious local spots
◉ "Knowing" is delicious.
◉ Re-evaluating food
◉ Proper desire

How will the novel coronavirus change our lifestyles? We aim to predict the future by focusing on the subtle shifts in daily life and subtle changes in people's hearts, blending into their routines, and creating new value. This series has explored such possibilities through the lens of "remote-controlled living." We hope it offers hints for you as you consider your future life and future business.