This series rediscovers the character of Akiruno and Itsukaichi through the cuisine and thinking of chef Naoki Matsuo of L’Arbre. It follows the process of emphasizing local ingredients, including traditional vegetables, native varieties, and the natural bounty of this land, through French culinary technique, offering readers a way to experience the seasons and the particular passage of time that belongs to this place. Here, food is understood as more than taste: it is a practice that reflects the history, culture, and nature of the land itself.
I recently learned that the French word restaurant traces its roots to restaurer, meaning “to restore” or “to heal”. There is a profound truth in that. Simply sharing a meal crafted by an artisan’s hands seems to melt away the day’s tensions. I felt this deeply during a visit to L’Arbre with my mother, sister, and aunt—Chef Matsuo’s masterful cooking has a rare and beautiful way of slowing down time and nourishing the soul.
Conversation trailed off; everyone was simply looking at their plate. On the walk home, we talked about which dish had stayed with us most. Mine was the yukinoshita, a wild mountain vegetable, its leaf fried crisp, with mushrooms and other foraged greens tucked carefully beneath. There was something startling about it: an ingredient I eat almost without thinking, transformed into something else entirely.
Not long after, I visited my parents, and tempura made from the same wild vegetable appeared on the table. “We grow that at home too,” my mother said, piling the fried vegetables onto the plate with visible pleasure. When the person cooking is enjoying themselves, it comes through to the person eating. That, I think, is simply how it works.
There’s an old Japanese saying, half joking, half serious, the kind of line you’d hear from an older generation, that goes: “If you want good food at home, take your wife out to eat.” It’s a dated way of putting it, and cooking isn’t divided along those lines anymore. But the idea behind it still holds up: eating well outside can quietly train you to cook better at home. For myself, after a good meal out, the memory of it lingers for weeks, and standing in my own kitchen becomes something I look forward to.
A restaurant, true to where its name comes from, is a place that leads a visitor back toward wellbeing. It offers a kind of healing. But I don’t think that healing lives only on the plate.
Naoki Matsuo, Chef and Owner, L’Arbre
Naoki grew up in Mizuho, a farming town in the western reaches of Tokyo. At the Imperial Hotel’s Les Saisons, he rose to sous chef, cooking classical French cuisine with Japanese ingredients for visiting heads of state. A stage at Le Cinq, the three-Michelin-starred restaurant at the Four Seasons George V in Paris, deepened his sense of what food could carry. In 2021, an encounter with an organic farmer led him to start cultivating the land himself. Two years later, he opened L’Arbre in Itsukaichi. In 2026, he received the Terroir Award from Gault & Millau Japan, with L’Arbre earning three toques for the third consecutive year.
About Akiruno
Akiruno is located in the western part of Tokyo. The eastern part of Akiruno is a plain surrounded by gentle hills, while the western part features mountainous areas that are part of Okutama. The area once thrived on forestry and silk spinning, and the remnants of those days are shown in the old kominka that are still in existence, a testament to the history and culture of those times. The rich natural environment, exemplified by the Akigawa Valley, attracts enthusiasts of fishing, camping, hiking, and trail running. It is known as a place where the convenience of urban life can be combined with the pleasures of rural living.
こちらの記事は英語で執筆されており、ブラウザの自動翻訳により氏名の漢字表記が正しく表示されないこと、不自然な日本語が表示されることがあるようです。お手数ですが、英語原文での閲覧をお試しください。