Classic French with a Perfect Baguette
Even more improbable than finding master-level soba in the countryside of Hokkaido is finding classic french cooking. You will never stumble across Maccarina (named by the chef, even though “c’s” are generally not used when anglicizing Japanese"k" sounds), and to my knowledge no famous personalities or bloggers have drawn attention here.* But visitors to Niseko and some intrepid foodies have sought out this gem, which serves exquisite French food with only minor updates and Japan-izations. The Japanese have always had a talent for taking others’ ideas and perfecting them, so it no surprise that French restaurants in Japan can be sublime. Maccarina is no exception. The chef trained in France (maybe in Burgundy? I’m not sure and haven’t done the research) and returned to Japan to open a restaurant that used local Hokkaido products of the very highest quality, including some vegetables grown in his own garden.
This food is by no means fusion - there are a few touches of herbs not generally available to France, and the substitution of Japanese ingredients here and there (very subtly) - it is more the addition of a Japanese sensibility which makes Maccarina’s food more than the sum of its parts. There is a delicacy and perfection, as well as an understatement, to the cooking which elevates it to a level far above simply “classic French.” Though the reductions are classically executed, they remain lighter and more ethereal than the same sauces often become in Paris or elsewhere. They served us one perfectly braised leek the last time we visited, which was so intensely flavorful it nearly made us cry.
The restaurant has a four small but lovely rooms in a detached building, and lucky overnight guests receive a wonderful breakfast before departing, with everything from hot soup to an excellent croissant and ratatouille. In addition to seafood, Hokkaido is known for the quality of its milk. I love it that not only whipped yogurt with marmalade appears at breakfast, but also a simple glass of local milk. I believe it is raw milk, but I didn’t ask. I know raw Hokkaido milk is widely available.
The dining room is gorgeous, simple and elegant. American standards or jazz play softly in the background. Service is typical Japanese perfection, and we have always found it to be friendly and warm - the same gentleman has served us every time, and we have become friendly. He kindly provided us with the name and telephone number of the baker who makes the astonishing baguettes - there is no logic to a baguette this good in the countryside of Hokkaido. Wine service is particularly good, with proper glassware and a respectable list heavy on champagne and burgundy. BYO is cordially permitted.
I think Maccarina would appeal most to those who understand French food already, its history and its technique, who love an respect the classics, but are maybe a little tired by it. The chef at Maccarina is not trying to take French food further, and his work is not innovative the way we’ve come to apply that word to fine dining. But it is unique, and special, and surprising and very much an experience that awakes your palate.
It was tough choosing just three pics - maybe I’ll post a few more later. My photo of the Hokkaido vegetables and seafood “snacks” doesn’t do it justice. It’s my favorite thing every time, though it’s never the same. One of those little bites is anago (sea eel) french toast. Why have I never had that idea?
- My husband reminds me an important, multi-national diplomatic meeting of some sort took place at Maccarina a few years ago, so it’s not totally under-the-radar!