Chez Kurahashi

It’s devastatingly cliched to tell people that a restaurant is “modern” French these days, but nothing quite takes on a liberal approach as much as Kurahashi Koji, who sharpened his craft from his stint at the city-vital, neo-French bistro Clown Bar in Paris and now wields it at the eponymous Chez Kurahashi. Here is a Hiroshima-born chef who shows restraint from the classic haute formula, opting instead for the unordinary: his steaks, plated and spiked with sauce, use mature cows from Hokkaido that have given birth — a choice most chefs avoid. Butter and cream, both nominally French staples, are eschewed in favor of lighter tastes. The combination is thrilling and, admittedly, novel — mission accomplished for a man determined to write his own genre. His culinary signature is serving appetizers with fruits. Soup, churned from Nara-grown vegetables, changes regularly, featuring summer varieties during the hot season and root vegetables and mushrooms as the temperature drops. Although, you will know this eventually, as he will tell you himself. For all its inventiveness, the set menus are reasonably priced, and the vibe is downright casual. Tables are clad in navy-blue cloths instead of the pristine white that is a hallmark of fine dining. Adjacent to the main dining area and bordered by big-picture windows is the more casual sister cafe devoted to one thing: soup.