Just off the bustling Ninen-zaka in Kyoto lies a narrow side street that leads to a quiet hideaway — Kodaiji Jugyuan, a refined sukiya-style ryotei, a traditional Kyoto restaurant. Here, Chef Shinya Takamasu dedicates himself to connecting people and seasons through the art of Japanese cuisine.

Raised in Hirado, Nagasaki, a seaside town where he often dove into the ocean and eagerly awaited the aroma of rice at dinnertime, Takamasu’s connection to nature runs deep. We asked the chef to share the Kyoto spots that help center and inspire him.
Where do you go to sharpen your senses?
The ridgeline of the Higashiyama mountains has always been a favorite. There’s a course starting near Ginkaku-ji that climbs Mt. Daimonji and descends toward Shogunzuka Seiryuden. Along the way, you can look out over Kyoto on your right — it’s the perfect height and distance.
I don’t go there because of work. My body just naturally heads that way. It’s like my senses crave it. When I walk through the mountains, I can feel the changing seasons and the scent of the air in a direct, unfiltered way. I find myself returning again and again.

Other places you like to visit?
The Kamo River. After work, often late at night, I’ll head north from Jugyuan and cross Oike Street or Nijo Street to the steppingstones in the river. I stand there, in the water, and take a moment to look upstream and downstream. To the south, the city lights reflect on the surface.
When it’s warm, I’ll dip my feet in and simply be — listening to music, letting thoughts drift. Being near nature seems to bring my senses back into balance.

Do you ever leave Kyoto in search of nature?
Yes. On my days off, I sometimes go free diving in Maizuru or along the Tango Peninsula. It’s about a three-hour drive, but I feel drawn to it. I lived in Hirado, Nagasaki until high school. While kids around me were into video games, I was always heading to the ocean on my own.
No matter the season, I loved being in the sea. Even now, when I dive in, it feels like my senses return to their natural state.

Do you resonate with seasonal expressions in food?
Absolutely. Wagashi, traditional Japanese confections, express the seasons beautifully. My favorite shop is Shioyoshiken. Their habutae mochi is especially memorable. It’s not just about flavor — the way they depict seasonal scenes, their presentation, the spirit of the artisans —it’s deeply moving.

Any favorite restaurants outside of Japanese cuisine?
Mescita Pane e Vino. They use dry-aged meats sourced from a butcher in Shiga. I admire their respect for ingredients. At Jugyuan, we also source meat from the same butcher. I resonate with how Pane e Vino engages with their producers, and I’ve learned a lot from their approach to cooking.

Places you go that aren’t restaurants?
Kobijutsu Nagata is an antique tableware shop I’ve visited since I was a young chef. It’s in Teramachi-Nijo, and I bought my first dish there. The owner doesn’t just teach me about ceramics — we also talk about ways of living and thinking in Kyoto. He has a background in tea ceremony, and speaking with him naturally helps me stand taller. I’ve learned many important things about life in Kyoto from him. Another favorite is Nunuk Life, a gallery near Ginkaku-ji run by a former yuzen dye artisan. The atmosphere — the works on display and the space itself — feels perfectly in tune. I’ve discovered several artists there. It’s a place of encounter for me, and the serene interior puts me at ease.
We heard you’re learning kintsugi (ceramic repairing using gold).
Yes, I’m studying it at a shop called Ko-jitsu-kyo. It used to serve Chinese tea, and the décor and ambiance are stunning. There’s a dignified calm to it. I also appreciate how they maintain a respectful distance, never overexplaining.
Are there places in Kyoto that you’ve long been attached to?
When I was starting out as a chef, I lived near Yoshida-yama and often walked the area. That’s where I came across Sanyin Shrine and learned that it enshrines the deity of cooking — I was instantly drawn in. Ever since, I’ve stopped to bow whenever I pass. Back then, I was going through a tough apprenticeship. But I remember feeling grounded whenever I visited the shrine. I’d offer a prayer, quietly wish for success... sometimes even a bit greedily (laughs).
For Shinya Takamasu, Kyoto is the city that grounds his inner compass. He walks the hills, stands beside the river, connects with ceramics, and reflects at shrines he once visited during his formative years. Those moments continue to inform the dishes he creates today.
Through our conversation, one truth emerged clearly: from a boy who dove into the sea to a chef attuned to every shift in the natural world, Takamasu has always held a deep love for nature.
Hero Image: Portrait of Shinya Takamasu. © Colin Wee/The MICHELIN Guide
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