Culinary Connections

It starts with a sip of forest.
 
Clear, pure and deep, it’s the natural byproduct of cedarwood drying for construction in the nearby Kyoto mountains, a liquid slowly distilled through its layers. 
 
Then, as candles burn and shadows flicker, a dreamlike sequence unfolds – of tastes, scents, stories, textures. A melting bite of aubergine. The tang of lemon. A hint of clover. Cooling watermelon. Deep layers of beetroot kimchee. A tangle of corn silk. The spiced edge of wild sansho pepper. A nostalgic gardenia scent. Sweet iced honeysuckle. And to finish? Light-reflecting metal bowls as round as the moon – with painterly pink nemunoki silk tree flowers floating in water-clear jasmine jelly.

The experience of dining at Farmoon goes far beyond the simple act of eating. It’s a journey that is tangibly tasty, with produce rooted in its Kyoto home and the shifting ingredients of the micro-seasons. Yet it’s also otherworldly – leaving a sensory imprint that traces a map through global cultures and lingers like a line of poetry.
 
The maker of this culinary magic is Masayo Funakoshi. Warm, natural and down-to-earth, Masayo is something of a Kyoto legend, typically found standing (or chopping, cooking, smiling, talking, laughing, occasionally dancing) behind the restaurant’s deep wood counter, immersed in a constellation of colourful produce, from fresh seafood, herbs and spices to rainbow-bright vegetables.

Local, seasonal ingredients are always the starting point. She makes early morning trips to a farm in nearby Ohara on the hilly edges of the city, for vegetables and herbs; speaks to a fishmonger every morning about market catches; and has a forager who sources micro-seasonal findings “from secret places” in the mountains.
 
Masayo sums up the Farmoon experience with the natural simplicity that imbues every layer of her culinary cosmos – as well as the rhythms and rituals of the ancient city around her. “It’s about the moment,” she says. “The food here always represents the moment – across time and space.”

The space is deeply intertwined with the food experience. Farmoon sits behind the understated façade of a renovated house near Ginkakuji Temple, in a quiet northeastern neighbourhood. Crossing the threshold, the atmosphere slows and deepens. Minimalist lines and open spaces are balanced with an organic, natural warmth. The interior, by designer Teruhiro Yanagihara, is softly wrapped in handcrafted sweeps of tsuchikabe earthen walls.

A clean-cut window behind the kitchen counter – where Masayo and her team are now busy preparing tonight’s dinner with scattered bowls of fresh ingredients (green clusters of fennel, edible flowers, chargrilled aubergine, salted fish) –  frames views of an inner courtyard garden; while a higher glass opening at the front captures passing clouds and sunlight by day, and starry skies and the moon by night.
 
Here, creative crowds gather nightly at the intimate horse chestnut wood counter or the main round table, complete with its rotating lazy Susan, the community heartbeat of Farmoon. Inspired by Masayo’s childhood family table, it was made by artisan Hideki Takayama as a place to share stories, conversations, memories – as well as food, served on a medley of curated ceramics, old and new.

But the main protagonists are always the ingredients. “Freshness is very important,” says Masayo. “But for me, it’s not just about why I’m using this material – but also how it gets here. “Who grew the vegetables? Who caught this fish? Everything has a story.”
 
Farmoon is the culmination of a decades-long journey for Masayo. Food shaped many of her Tokyo childhood memories – from avidly collecting second-hand cookbooks to throwing pancake parties on park ponds for school friends.
 
She initially embraced the call of becoming an artist, studying sculpture in New York, before a moment of realisation prompted a pivot towards her true calling: food. “I always love working with the three-dimensional – something I can touch and feel. And the material has always been the starting point. When I was studying sculpture, I worked mostly with casting and the concept was often eating. I began to realise that when an artwork is finished, it’s in the past. It’s a frozen moment. But then I thought – wait a minute, food never disappears. It becomes part of you.”

It sparked a sea change for Masayo. She went on to work at Blue Hill, an influential New York restaurant at the forefront of the farm-to-table movement. After a decade in New York, she continued at restaurants in Paris before deciding to take a break. A seminal year travelling (and eating) around the world ensued, across Europe and then Asia, from Jakarta to Darjeeling, followed by a stint as a chef on an Australian surf brand’s private ship. 

Kyoto, however, was calling. In 2014, she moved to the ancient Japanese city after being hired to helm new restaurant Kiln – before a desire to create her own space led to the creation of Farmoon in May 2018, as a private restaurant, tea salon and atelier.

For Masayo, Kyoto is both home and inspiration. “I really feel Kyoto’s history as an old Imperial city. What excites me most here is that I’ve always been really interested in the Silk Road – and Nara, near Kyoto, was the last destination on this ancient trading route.

“In Kyoto, you can really feel a deep connection to the Silk Route, through the temples, the history, the old customs, the festivals. I’m really excited by this because my cooking is about taking all the parts of different cultures and cuisines from different places.”
 
After a meandering conversation in afternoon light – the flow of stories pausing only for Masayo to taste-check dishes-in-progress with her team – and a slow wander around an exhibition in the intimate upper mezzanine space (an organic medley of stone and metal vessels by artist Mayumi Utsunomiya), the sun lowers in the sky as another Kyoto day gives way to dinner.
 
The journey begins immediately. I’m seated at the round table – serendipitously next to a designer couple visiting from Holland. They are charming and funny and kind, with conversations weaving threads through life stories, flavours, ceramics, journeys, ingredients and shared moments around the table. 

After a woody sip of cedar – something of a transitional baptism – the food appears like works of art. Charred eggplant soup. Zucchini carpaccio with preserved lemon sauce and hints of dill. Pureed cauliflower and edamame. A perfectly roasted dream carrot, with clam-filled carrot leaf butter. Blue corn tortilla with unagi eel tempura and baby corn with a touch of harissa and foraged sansho pepper. And the list goes on.
 
Beauty is all around, inside and out. From the cornucopia of tastes on my tongue and the dreamy spatial atmosphere through to the ceramics (my favourite being the primitive clay abstractions created for Farmoon by local artist Junpei Omori).

"It’s about sharing food, using all your senses,” says Masayo, lingering table-side to chat between courses. “We don’t present a specific narrative. Each guest can create their own story. I think of this place as a medium. Everyone’s passions and stories – the farmers, the fishermen – pass through the food.”
 
And then, as the moon rises in the sky, the meal comes to a close. Later, walking towards home along quiet Kyoto streets, I mentally savour not only the food – but the Farmoon moment, shared across time and space. 

Words by Danielle Demetriou.

Photography by Kate Berry.