The Kamogawa Food Detectives by Hisashi Kashiwai

“When you are young, you accept different flavors without thinking. But as you grow older, the most delicious seasoning becomes memory.”

Somewhere on a side street in Kyoto, far from the rush and tourist crowds, there is a small restaurant called Kamogawa. It doesn’t stand out — just a few tables, a simple interior, the smell of home-cooked food. And yet, this is where people arrive when they are looking for something. Not a new dish. Not a culinary sensation.
They are looking for a taste from the past.

Nagare Kamogawa, a retired police officer, cooks. His daughter Koishi handles the practical matters. But their real work begins only when someone comes in with a story — about curry once prepared by a late wife, or a simple dish that tasted different because it was tied to someone important. To a moment that will never return.

That’s when the Kamogawas become detectives. Like all good investigators, they don’t start with ingredients, but with questions. They try to recreate as precisely as possible the dish the visitor once ate.

This book is a story about how every dish — alongside spices — carries a story. A memory. A moment we want to return to. When we try to recreate a taste from the past, we are really trying to bring back that moment: the person who was there, the hands that prepared the meal, and the version of ourselves from that time.
The most important ingredient is always memory.

There are no dramatic plot twists here. Instead, there is silence, attentiveness, and warmth. Kyoto seen from the side — from the kitchen, from memories, from everyday rituals. This is literature meant to be savored slowly.

🍵 Who is it for?
For everyone who misses Japan.
Thanks to this book, we can also rediscover — or learn about — interesting ingredients, dishes, and spices. It’s a warm story about memories and about who we are, written into flavors, scents, and small rituals.

✨ A few words at the end

Kamogawa. The Taste Detectives is a book that reminds us of our most beautiful memories. While reading it, I found myself thinking about dishes I still miss — like my grandmother’s apple pie for birthdays or the toasted bread my mother used to make.

Luckily, there are also flavors that never lose their magic, because everything depends on the company. A hot dog eaten at an Orlen gas station before a silent disco still tastes perfect — every single time, with the same friend.

I even dare to say (and I’ve tested this theory once) that a flavor can be ruined if the right person is missing. I went to a restaurant I usually visit with a close friend, but this time with someone I don’t particularly like — and suddenly… the matcha and sushi were bad.

Is there a dish you can always rely on?
For me, it’s Amino tomato soup — always the best.

Do you feel the same?
Is there a dish that never tasted the same again — even when eaten in the very same restaurant?