Nobu

by Nobu Matsuhisa

  Many people asked me when I published my first cookbook, “What are you going to do if people copy these recipes that you worked so hard to create?” But I can’t think of anything that could delight a chef more than to know that the dishes he or she created were being enjoyed worldwide. This is the way it should be. Besides, as I always tell them, “No problem. They can copy my recipes, but not my kokoro (heart).”

  It would make me even happier if the chefs who copy me developed a good reputation and became stiff competition. The stimulation would be a great opportunity for me to grow. I know several people who were inspired by my example to become chefs and open their own restaurants. What could bring a chef greater happiness than this?

  WHAT TO DO WITH THE REST OF MY LIFE

  When you tackle new challenges and do your best, you reach a vantage point from which you can see new things and, from there, you can take another step forward. I have been doing this all my life. Now I travel the world as Nobuyuki Matsuhisa, visiting restaurants and meeting many people from whom I am always learning. I have even launched a hotel business. But I do not think my work is done yet. When I passed the age of sixty, I began thinking about the rest of my life. As I did so, the desire to teach everything I have learned to upcoming generations rose inside me. I became convinced that this is what I should now devote myself to doing. What made me feel this so strongly was Sakai, my best friend who literally saved my life.

  I can still remember the day I entered high school and the moment I first met him. He was like a breath of fresh air. When it came to fashion, he could pull anything off and looked really cool in the Ivy League style so popular at the time. After graduating, he worked for a major construction company while continuing his studies, and then set up his own business once he received his certification as an architect. He often came to visit me at Matsuei-sushi in Shinjuku and joined me on my trips around Japan. Every time I failed in business overseas and returned home penniless, he was the one who came to my rescue. On the night my wife was in the hospital giving birth to our second child, he came and stayed with me and my daughter in our shabby one-room apartment. A friend in need is a friend indeed. For me, that friend was Sakai.

  When Sakai got married, my wife and I arranged the whole thing at the famous Glass Church in Los Angeles. Although we were still quite poor, we felt that it was the least we could do and provided every hospitality we could think of. Matsuhisa went on to become a success, followed by Nobu, and I became very busy traveling around the world. Even so, whenever I went to Japan, I always called up Sakai. When we built our house, he arranged things with the construction company and went out of his way to help. The sushi counter at Matsuhisa in Los Angeles was ordered and assembled by Sakai. I knew that I could count on him to do things right. He was so efficient that we called him Sakai the Organizer, and he was always reliable. I really loved him; he was the very best of friends, and I owed him so much.

  But one time when I called him from America, he seemed very curt. I wondered what he was upset about. In fact, he was so brusque that I was a bit offended. Several months later, I came back for New Year’s and called him from the car on my way in from the airport. “How was your holiday?” I asked. “Did you go anywhere?” But again, his response seemed blunt and cold.

  “Nope. No point,” he said. “It’s too crowded everywhere.” I was annoyed and puzzled by his behavior.

  Two days later, I received a call from his wife. She told me that Sakai had passed away. At first, I could not comprehend what she was saying. Struggling to control my shock, I left Tokyo immediately for their house in Saitama, the same house to which Sakai had welcomed me, my wife, and our baby for a few days on our return from South America. I stayed beside his body for some time. Then his wife led me into a separate room. There she told me that he had committed suicide. His business had run into trouble, and he had hanged himself at home. I was speechless.

  THE IMMATURITY THAT BLINDED ME TO THE SUFFERING OF MY BEST FRIEND

  Sakai had sounded brusque not because he was angry, but because he was in great pain. I had thought of him as my very best friend. He had saved me countless times. So why couldn’t I see that he was really calling out for help? Why didn’t I tell him, “Sakai, what’s wrong? What happened? If there’s anything I can do to help, just say so. I’d do anything for you.” What made me feel the worst was that, when he was curt with me, I had actually thought, What’s wrong with you? Are you jealous or something? I hated that part of myself.

  I travel around the world telling people to think about others and imagine how they would feel if they were in the other person’s position. So why couldn’t I see how much Sakai, my closest friend, was suffering? Why couldn’t I have said something kind to him? I felt wretched and ashamed, filled with remorse. To this day, I still feel tremendous pain. I cannot forgive myself.

  As I stood there stunned, Sakai’s wife handed me a scrapbook. She had always called her husband “Sakai-san,” meaning “Mr. Sakai.” “Sakai-san loved you so much,” she told me. “He was always boasting about you. Whenever he heard that you were going to be on TV, he called up all his friends and told them. Whenever you were in the papers or a magazine, he would cut out the article and paste it in this scrapbook.” The scrapbook was filled with articles, all neatly organized. Tears streamed down my face as I pictured him cutting them out and pasting them in.

  I still remember his face as he lay in the coffin. Every year on the anniversary of his death, I visit the bodaiji temple to pray for his soul, but I will never be free from this pain. I should go to his house, offer incense, and speak with his wife, but I am too afraid. I know I should pick up my courage and go, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it.

  I lost the very best of friends.

  When I was thinking of killing myself in Alaska, it was my wife and children who kept me going. When I returned to Japan, barely holding myself together emotionally, and was spurned by everyone I had known, Sakai was the only one who welcomed me back with open arms. Yet, when he was suffering so much that he could no longer bear to live, I couldn’t help him. No, not couldn’t. I didn’t help him.

  I am still dealing with that fact. I don’t know when this pain will fade away. Maybe I will have to carry it for the rest of my life. Perhaps it’s my homework. I never want to lose someone I love again. This thought has grown stronger ever since Sakai died. If I can, I want to make even one more person happy; I want to be there for the people I care about when they need me. I want this more than anything. I’m going to keep on trying so that when my time comes, I can cross the finish line and know that I did my very best, right to the end. As I am not a very sophisticated man, this is the only approach to life that I can think of.

  WORKING AS HARD AS I CAN IS THE EASIEST WAY

  Some people assume that I must have been born with a flair for cooking and an aptitude for artistic presentation. They think that this is the reason for my success. But I disagree. Neither Ichiro Suzuki nor Sadaharu Oh could have become top baseball stars through innate ability alone. They may have natural talent, but they also had to strive.

  Many people tell me, “Nobu, you’re so great,” but I don’t think so. I’m simply trying to do my best at all times. That’s just who I am. For me, that’s the easiest way. Just think about it. If you’re always doing your best, you never need to make excuses. People who work hard are cool. People who give everything their best shot are forgiven when they make mistakes. As long as you keep trying as hard as you can, you will never regress. If you do your best, someone will always help you when you stumble and fall. You also never need to compare yourself with anyone else. You can just carry on doing your personal best.

  I think this perspective stems, in large part, from my experience in Alaska when I was pushed to the brink of suicide. Even that dark despair was a lesson in life worth learning. I know that I am very blessed to be in an environment where I can continue to strive. When I think about how that environment was created,
I realize that it comes from focusing solely on my guests, not on money. I was able to forge ahead because the vector of my efforts never wavered. This is the source of my confidence.

  I CAN STRIVE BECAUSE I’M A COWARD

  I may have confidence, but I’m not going to press my luck. Part of me is still a coward because of the many hard knocks I experienced before establishing the first Matsuhisa. But I think that my timid nature has actually led to good results. It keeps me on my toes. If I started cutting corners, I could easily gravitate toward laziness. That thought terrifies me, and, because I am afraid, I work very hard. Although opening a new restaurant is scary, that fear forces me to focus fully on my work.

  I think it’s especially important to reaffirm my roots and stay true to myself when things are going smoothly. My fear strengthens my resolve to make sure I don’t lose what I have built up so far. And that fear is rooted in my experience of losing everything in Alaska. Looking back on my life, I’m grateful that I was able to keep on striving. I became totally absorbed in my work, and this is where it has brought me. Now I am turning a fourth corner. How to get around that corner and make it to the finish line will be my theme from here on. Many people have helped me to reach this point. Now it is my turn to help others. That is where I want to use my money.

  DON’T BOTHER AIMING TO BECOME A GLOBAL HUMAN RESOURCE

  Japanese people talk about how globalization is beginning to affect their society, but in reality, I think that Japan is already part of a global society. Just look at the fact that English is now being taught in Japanese elementary schools. When I was a child, nobody would have dreamed that this would happen. It may take some time to see results, but as long as we continue to educate children to be more internationally minded, within ten or twenty years the elementary school children of today will have grown up equipped to work on the world stage.

  I never received any education or training for working abroad or thinking globally. Yet I crossed the sea with nothing but my knife and flung myself into learning other languages, cultures, and values. And I like to think that I helped spread Japanese cuisine to other parts of the world in the process. It wasn’t international awareness or foreign language ability that made this possible. Rather it was the fact that I never wavered in my convictions as a Japanese person. If you have conviction, your message will reach others.

  Picking up a language is easy. Necessity will force you to learn. When we opened Nobu New York, I could not say a full sentence in English. Instead, I just strung together the words I knew. Yet, I still communicated. I was even interviewed for an English-learning program on Japan’s national TV station as an example of being able to communicate despite having poor English.

  So don’t be afraid to leave home. Get out into the world. Instead of worrying about how to become internationally minded, just go ahead and try it. When you do, you will almost certainly hit a wall, but figuring out how to get yourself over that wall will give you the chance to grow. Once you have cleared it, you’re bound to hit another, so just keep on climbing and growing. If you keep at it, the walls that rise up in front of you will gradually dwindle in size. I think this is what it means to live fully focused in the moment. As long as you do your very best, it doesn’t matter if you are internationally minded or not. The road will always open before you.

  PAYING IT FORWARD

  I often encourage young people to choose the work they like without worrying about job conditions or social status. If you choose the path that calls, if you do the work you love, you will pour your passion into it and that will help you overcome any difficulties. The more hurdles you clear, the more confident you will become in your ability to clear them. The more you persevere, the smaller each new obstacle will appear. Whenever you aren’t sure, trust your intuition. Instead of focusing on things like earnings or status, just choose the work that you feel you will enjoy. That is your compass.

  If a certain path feels right, take it. You can always change direction if you realize along the way that it was not the right choice. As long as you have passion, no detour is painful. As long as you live your life to the fullest, results will always come. Even if you fail, someone will always help you if they see that you are sincerely doing your best. I was able to come this far thanks to the help of many people along the way. That is why I want to help others as much as I can. I want to repay the kindness of those who helped me when I was young by extending the same support to upcoming generations. Sometimes that kindness may be betrayed. Sometimes I may be deceived. But I would rather be deceived than deceive others.

  IN THE END, IT ALL COMES DOWN TO PASSION

  What I really want to share with young people is not cooking skills or the art of communication, but something that can be summed up in a single word—passion. As I mentioned before, I think that a person can only truly be considered a master of their trade when they can pass on their passion to the next generation.

  Although I dreamed of becoming a sushi chef and of working overseas from my youth, I never imagined that restaurants around the world, and even hotels, would one day bear my name. This was simply the result of hard work and my passionate desire to make my guests smile. I am a very happy man, but if you asked me what the secret to happiness is, I could not tell you. Because you can only understand life by living it for yourself. You will never find the answer without making your own efforts. Of course you will make mistakes, but these will teach you important lessons. All I can tell you is to stay passionate. That is the only rule for happiness that I know.

  WHAT IF WE ALL TRIED TO SEE THINGS FROM THE OTHER’S PERSPECTIVE?

  Not everyone can see life like this right from the start. Many people feel lost and bewildered when they hit a wall. I have thought about this a lot, ever since Sakai died. That’s why I believe we should consciously do our best to be considerate and supportive of each other, particularly of our close family, friends, and coworkers. This is important because we’re part of the same “team.”

  To be considerate requires imagination, the ability to intuit what the other person is feeling. If everyone tried to be considerate, we would all speak with greater kindness to each other. If everyone in the world made a conscious effort to do this, there would be no more wars. I believe that the way individuals interact is cumulative and affects the way nations interact. This may sound like an exaggeration, but it’s quite true.

  Nobu in the Cape Town kitchen.

  People of many nationalities work at Nobu. Miscommunication often occurs due to cultural differences. Our menu is based on Japanese cuisine, but that cuisine may inadvertently end up being Thai cuisine with Japanese elements when a Thai chef cooks it. What a Japanese person recognizes with one bite is not easily communicated to others. The only solution is to keep working together and to keep communicating. It was through such constant and daily effort that Nobu teamwork developed.

  In March 2014, I celebrated my birthday in Perth, Australia. A Korean staff member gave me a present with the words “For Nobu-san.” These kinds of connections give me hope. Even if relations between countries like Japan and Korea should deteriorate, we can help to restore them through building such personal friendships.

  What if I were that person . . . When we pursue this thought to perfection in our work, a single piece of sushi has the power to touch a person’s heart. I have proven that this attitude can eventually spread worldwide. The consideration shown by each one of us really does change the world.

  It is effort and perseverance that make the impossible possible. It is only by trying that we actually realize what we are capable of doing. I think that this is what it means to be human. If we keep moving forward, even a millimeter a day, we are bound to achieve good results at some point. We have done well if we can say in the end that we’re glad we did our best. I have been through a lot, but for me, to have reached this understanding is the greatest happiness.

  Afterword

  One day, a cassette tape arrived at Nobu Tokyo from a Jap
anese radio station. It was a recording of a program featuring the actor Ken Takakura. The purpose of the program was to introduce Japanese people who had achieved success overseas. Apparently, Ken chose to talk about me after reading an article in the magazine Fujinkoron entitled, “The Man Who Made Robert De Niro Wait Four Years.” During the program, he remarked, “Nobu didn’t make De Niro wait. I think De Niro chose to wait four years.”

  This comment really moved me and I wanted to get in touch with him. He had come to Matsuhisa once, just after it opened, but I never dreamed that he would introduce me on the radio. On the same program, he had also mentioned Sushizen, a restaurant in Hokkaido. I looked them up and then went all the way to Hokkaido to meet the owner, Tsutomu Shimamiya, at his restaurant. He was a little older than me. When I explained what I wanted, he connected us, and Ken came to meet me at Hotel Okura in Tokyo.

  This meeting was the beginning of our friendship. I took him a wooden Buddha carved by Yoshizaki, my old friend from high school. I had given one to De Niro as a gift, too. Ken was thrilled and even wrote about it in a magazine. Clearly, he had a strong faith. He once gave me a bell for the Buddhist altar in our home and had an artisan he knew carve our family crest on it. He also gave me a small sword custom-made by a swordsmith as a protective charm when my first grandchild was born.

  Ken actually delivered the bell in person, arriving unannounced at our door. I invited him in for tea, but he refused, saying, “Today, I just came to say hello.”

  “Well, then, next time be sure to call me before you come,” I said.

  The next time he called before he came, just as I had asked. “I’m going to drop by with a DVD,” he said.