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Mitou

"Korea's summer restorative food, in Japanese cooking with a Chinese accent"

Mitou, Seoul: Kim Bo-mi working a wok behind the counter

Section 1·

Mitou is the Japanese restaurant in Seoul that was promoted to two Michelin stars in February 2024. Its bookings and its popularity climbed higher still, yet that summer I was able to visit twice, a month apart, once in July and once in August, for its restorative course, or boyangsik, built on the Korean custom of eating to restore your strength in the summer heat.

Mitou, Seoul: the 未到 sign above the Michelin 2024 plaque

My first visit, in the autumn of 2023, was in the private room, and my second and third were at the counter. For someone like me, who loves taking photographs and talking with the chefs, the counter is clearly the more satisfying seat. In both July and August I talked at length with the two chefs, Kwon Young-woon and Kim Bo-mi, learned a great deal, and had a wonderful time.

Mitou, Seoul: Kwon Young-woon preparing the first course behind the counter
Mitou, Seoul: Kwon Young-woon at the counter before service

Until the summer of 2024, I mostly ate sushi when I went to Japan, so when Mitou received its two stars I wondered: are these two stars by Korean standards? Where would it stand in Japan itself?

From October 2024 I had the chance to visit a number of Tabelog Gold and Silver Japanese restaurants in Japan, and what I came away with was this... next to Japan's high-end Japanese restaurants, Mitou is remarkably good. I enjoyed Mitou more than a Japanese restaurant holding Tabelog Silver. I was not alone in this: many people deeply versed in Japanese gastronomy shared the same view, and I mean to go to Mitou more often whenever I can.

Mitou, Seoul: a napkin embroidered with 未到

I had heard that they run a special restorative course in summer, and I had long wondered what Japan eats to restore itself in the heat that would call for a separate course. As it turned out, there were so many interesting and delicious dishes that I was truly glad I went.

Mitou's restorative course does not bring over Japan's restorative food; it renders Korea's summer custom of eating for strength through Japanese cooking. In the summer of 2024 it used chicken, brown croaker, abalone and eel, along with pheasant, soft-shelled turtle and black garlic.

Mitou's restorative course does not bring over Japan's restorative food; it renders Korea's summer custom of eating for strength through Japanese cooking.

What made this course especially interesting, and great fun, for me as a gourmand was that if I had to give it a single theme, it would be Chinese food, without a moment's hesitation. You may wonder why a Japanese restaurant would choose Chinese food as a theme, but throughout the course the chefs kept telling us they had brought a Chinese feel into the cooking, and in fact many dishes had a different grain from anything I had eaten in Japanese cooking so far, or at Mitou before.

Section 2·

What I drank with the course differed between July and August. In July I began with Kamokinshu (賀茂金秀) Karakuchi Junmai Natsujun (夏純) from Kanemitsu Shuzo (金光酒造) in Hiroshima Prefecture.

Mitou, Seoul: a tray of sake cups to choose from
Mitou, Seoul: pouring the Kamokinshu Natsujun into a tin katakuchi

It is a summer sake brewed from Hattan Nishiki, a Hiroshima sake rice, polished to 60 per cent, at 15 per cent alcohol.

Mitou, Seoul: the Kamokinshu Karakuchi Junmai Natsujun bottle

August's first glass was Pehu Simonet's Fins Lieux N°6 champagne.

Mitou, Seoul: the Pehu Simonet Fins Lieux N°6 Verzenay grand cru

It is a blanc de blancs made only from Chardonnay grown on a single plot called Les Basses Correttes in Verzenay, a grand cru village known for its Pinot Noir.

Mitou, Seoul: the sommelier taking the champagne from the ice bucket
Mitou, Seoul: the sommelier pouring the Pehu Simonet

David Pehu, the fourth generation, has made the wines since 1988.

Mitou, Seoul: the Pehu Simonet with its glass and cork

Section 3·

Both times the course opened with a jelly. Nogak, a cucumber left on the vine until it turns yellow, was cut into cubes and topped with a jelly of chodang sweetcorn and scallop.

Mitou, Seoul: the July jelly in a gold-rimmed coupe
Mitou, Seoul: caviar on the chodang sweetcorn and scallop jelly
Mitou, Seoul: a cube of nogak lifted with the jelly

A generous heap of caviar went on top, and eating it all together brought a range of textures I enjoyed.

Mitou, Seoul: the jelly spooned into the coupes for August
Mitou, Seoul: Kim Bo-mi setting caviar on each coupe
Mitou, Seoul: Kim Bo-mi grating green citrus over the caviar

The delicate flavour and salinity of the caviar also suited the other ingredients well.

Mitou, Seoul: the August jelly with nogak and caviar
Mitou, Seoul: the August jelly seen closer

Sashimi was second. In July it was brown croaker and sevenband grouper with benjari bozushi, and in August brown croaker with shima-aji, striped jack, and benjari bozushi.

Mitou, Seoul: the July sashimi on its green leaf plate

The August plate, though, tasted deeper and better than July's.

Mitou, Seoul: the August sashimi on a long glazed plate

It amazed me that a month's difference in season could make such a difference in flavour.

Mitou, Seoul: shima-aji, brown croaker and benjari bozushi
Mitou, Seoul: the August sashimi seen closer

Brown croaker, minneo in Korean, has long been a bokdarim fish, eaten on boknal, the hottest days of summer.

Mitou, Seoul: Kim Bo-mi slicing fish for the sashimi

In the early twentieth century, the distinguished households of Seoul held minneo feasts on chobok, the first of those days.

Mitou, Seoul: the July sashimi seen closer
Mitou, Seoul: a slice of sashimi with wasabi

Benjari is the fish Japan calls isaki (イサキ). In June and July, the rainy season, it puts on fat between skin and flesh ahead of spawning, and so it has a name of its own, tsuyu isaki (梅雨イサキ).

Mitou, Seoul: the benjari bozushi with its seared skin

Mitou served it as bozushi (棒寿司), the skin side seared and laid over the shari.

Mitou, Seoul: a piece of benjari bozushi showing the shiso and shari

Section 4·

The third dish was a duck that left a deep impression.

Mitou, Seoul: black sesame sauce spooned over the duck

The duck, cooked in the classic Japanese way, was topped with black sesame sauce and ground sansho.

Mitou, Seoul: the duck on a leaf-shaped plate
Mitou, Seoul: the duck seen closer
Mitou, Seoul: duck with black sesame sauce and sansho

In the mouth its texture and flavour were very good, and then the tingling heat you find in mapo tofu spread through, and I ate it with pleasure.

Mitou, Seoul: a slice of duck lifted from the plate

Sansho is a different species from huajiao (花椒), the Chinese pepper behind the numbing bite of mapo tofu, but the two are fruits of the same genus.

Here August differed from July: in August the duck was replaced by Nagoya Cochin, the chicken Mitou raises itself and uses for the mizutaki at the end of the course.

Mitou, Seoul: Nagoya Cochin with black sesame sauce and sansho

To me, duck is an awkward ingredient wherever you eat it, at home or abroad. Unless its texture is brought out to the extreme, as French cooking does, it tastes fine but often falls short in texture for fine dining.

Mitou, Seoul: the August chicken seen closer
Mitou, Seoul: the Nagoya Cochin cut open

The duck's texture was good, but the August chicken had the finest texture of all, making up completely for the few per cent the duck had lacked. This chicken would return later in a special dish that was nothing short of a knockout.

Section 5·

Then, with another light Chinese touch, came a soup made like Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, with okdom, the tilefish, in it.

Mitou, Seoul: the okdom soup made like Buddha Jumps Over the Wall
Mitou, Seoul: the soup with chives seen closer
Mitou, Seoul: the soup in its painted cup

The okdom inside was grilled the Japanese way, but the broth was Buddha Jumps Over the Wall itself, the kind you eat at a Chinese restaurant, and I felt the strength surge back into me.

Mitou, Seoul: the grilled okdom lifted from the broth

The broth was made with soft-shelled turtle and pheasant.

Mitou, Seoul: the August okdom soup
Mitou, Seoul: the grilled okdom in the August soup

Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, fotiaoqiang (佛跳牆), is a dish from Fuzhou in Fujian Province, China, in which prized ingredients such as abalone, sea cucumber, scallops, chicken and mushrooms are put into a wine jar and simmered over a day or two. The name comes from the idea that its aroma would tempt even a vegetarian monk to leap over the wall.

Section 6·

The best dish was different in July and in August, and July's was the uni soba.

Mitou, Seoul: soba tossed in uni sauce
Mitou, Seoul: the soba twisted up for plating

Uni sauce was poured over the soba, then jelly and uni were set on top.

Mitou, Seoul: the jelly going onto each plate
Mitou, Seoul: Kim Bo-mi spooning jelly over the soba
Mitou, Seoul: uni sauce poured over the plated soba

Grilled aubergine came alongside, and the chef told me I had to, really had to, eat the grilled aubergine with it, and I could see why.

Mitou, Seoul: uni soba with jelly, uni and grilled aubergine

The aubergine's juicy, sweet juice burst out and mixed with the uni, and it was so delicious.

Mitou, Seoul: the uni soba on its blue plate
Mitou, Seoul: the uni soba from another angle
Mitou, Seoul: the jelly and uni sauce over the soba

Japanese cooking makes wonderful use of aubergine in summer.

Mitou, Seoul: aubergine and soba lifted together
Mitou, Seoul: the aubergine coated in uni sauce

In the past they made the soba themselves and showed it to us before serving, but this time they said they had used a ready-made noodle for its texture. It did not hurt the flavour at all, and I ate it with great pleasure.

Mitou, Seoul: jelly spooned over the August soba
Mitou, Seoul: soba twisted onto the blue plates
Mitou, Seoul: Kim Bo-mi plating the soba

Kim Bo-mi believes that in Japan soba is eaten for its texture, the feel of the noodle under the teeth and the way it goes down, while Korean diners are left with a deeper impression by the tsuyu the noodle is dipped in.

Mitou, Seoul: the August uni soba with grilled aubergine
Mitou, Seoul: the August uni soba seen closer

Set beside this dish, which used a ready-made noodle for texture and left the impression of flavour to the uni sauce, it is an interesting thought.

Section 7·

In fact, when I visited in early September 2023 it was not the restorative course but the autumn course, and I ate unagi wrapped in a crêpe with black garlic sauce and enjoyed it so much it moved me.

Mitou, Seoul: charcoal-grilled unagi wrapped in a thin crêpe
Mitou, Seoul: the unagi crêpe on its round plate
Mitou, Seoul: the unagi and vegetables inside the crêpe

At the time I thought it was a regular Mitou dish, but it turned out that some unagi had been left over when the restorative course ended, so I got to eat it even though it was not the restorative course.

I learned this a year later, and I was so pleased, and in 2024 I ate it with great pleasure on both visits, July and August.

Mitou, Seoul: the August unagi crêpe
Mitou, Seoul: the August unagi crêpe seen closer

After the unagi crêpe, a bright cold dish of tomato and seaweed arrived to refresh the palate.

Mitou, Seoul: the cold dish seen closer
Mitou, Seoul: the cold dish of tomato and seaweed
Mitou, Seoul: the cold dish from above

It returned in August in the same small cup.

Mitou, Seoul: the same cold dish in August

Section 8·

We ate a wide and colourful range of restorative dishes, duck, chicken, eel and more, and partway through an ingredient appeared that was completely new to me and very memorable: snakehead, a freshwater fish, served like a Chinese fish dish.

Mitou, Seoul: Kim Bo-mi working a wok behind the counter

It was the second best dish of the whole course. The snakehead's flesh was fried, with yam inside.

Mitou, Seoul: fried snakehead in yuxiang sauce

The sauce, they told us, imitated doubanjiang, but it was not doubanjiang at all: it was made with shionoko, a local seasoning from Niigata Prefecture.

Mitou, Seoul: the snakehead and its sauce seen closer
Mitou, Seoul: the snakehead cut open around its yam
Mitou, Seoul: a piece of snakehead lifted with chopsticks

I had no idea then what shionoko was and was very curious, so Kwon Young-woon set a little of it aside on its own and gave me the chance to taste it.

Mitou, Seoul: the shionoko served on its own

They told us snakehead was an ingredient they had first used in July. I had eaten it only once before, raw, when I was young, and this was the first time I had it in a fine dining setting.

Mitou, Seoul: Kwon Young-woon slicing the fried snakehead

To eat it at Mitou, quite unexpectedly, was a precious experience. For the record, snakehead is a freshwater fish, so you need to be careful eating it raw.

Mitou, Seoul: the August snakehead in yuxiang sauce
Mitou, Seoul: the August snakehead seen closer

The sauce is yuxiang (魚香). Yuxiang, fish-fragrant, is the name of a Sichuan flavour, and despite the name it contains no fish.

Mitou, Seoul: the August snakehead cut open

It takes its taste from the garlic, ginger, spring onion and chilli once used in cooking fish, with sugar and vinegar added, so it is spicy and salty and a little sweet and sour. Its heat usually rests on doubanjiang or pickled chillies, and Mitou put shionoko in their place.

Section 9·

For the main meat in July, beef was grilled and served with Japanese pickled radish.

Mitou, Seoul: Kwon Young-woon and Kim Bo-mi plating the beef

It was tender, nutty and very good, and I remember the radish's tang cutting the beef's slight richness for a good balance.

Mitou, Seoul: grilled beef with Japanese pickled radish
Mitou, Seoul: the beef and radish seen closer
Mitou, Seoul: the beef from another angle

In August there was no beef.

The restorative course brought so many new ingredients, and Chinese touches that made it hard to think of as Japanese food, so many flavours beyond the range of my experience, that the beef seems to have fallen down the list for a place among my memorable moments.

Mitou, Seoul: a piece of beef with wasabi

I visited twice, a month apart, and there were fine differences in the flavour of the ingredients, but if I had to name the one that stood far above the rest, it was the chicken.

The chefs, too, kept saying throughout the August meal that the chicken was in fine condition, and so a special dish appeared partway through. It was yakitori: first thigh and heart, then the wings.

Mitou, Seoul: yakitori of chicken heart and thigh
Mitou, Seoul: the heart and thigh skewers

I say this with some care... It was, of course, the best of the night, and astonishing yakitori, one I could count on one hand among all the yakitori I have eaten so far, in Korea and in Japan alike.

Mitou, Seoul: yakitori of chicken wings
Mitou, Seoul: the wings seen closer

The texture was on another level. The heart crunched like a fresh root vegetable, the wings had a springy bite that grew better the more I chewed, and the thigh, crisp outside and moist inside with juices bursting out, had the finest texture of all.

It was, of course, the best of the night, and astonishing yakitori, one I could count on one hand among all the yakitori I have eaten so far, in Korea and in Japan alike.

That day, not only I but also my companions, who eat seriously in Korea, yakitori included, all said the same, and I could feel just how fine Mitou's chicken was.

I found myself thinking that if they opened a yakitori restaurant with this flavour, it would be a sensation.

Section 10·

The closing meal was mizutaki, the chicken dish Fukuoka is known for, and the chefs poured each of us a glass of something very special: hawthorn and the herbs of sipjeon daebo-tang steeped in vodka for a year, they said.

Mitou, Seoul: Kim Bo-mi pouring the hawthorn and herb vodka
Mitou, Seoul: cups of the infused vodka beside its earthenware jug
Mitou, Seoul: the tray of poured cups

Not sake, but vodka... That evening, at a Japanese restaurant, I tasted China, Korea and Russia as well.

Mitou, Seoul: a toast with the infused vodka

The fun of it was that at first it did not seem strong at all; it was like drinking Chinese Shaoxing wine. But a little while after drinking, the alcohol rose all at once and my body grew warm (is that why it was on the restorative course?).

Mitou, Seoul: a cup of the infused vodka

If you drank a lot of it thinking it was mild, I think you would get drunk.

Mitou, Seoul: the sommelier pouring the infused vodka in August
Mitou, Seoul: the August cup of infused vodka

Sipjeon daebo-tang (十全大補湯) is a prescription of ten herbs, sagunja-tang (ginseng, atractylodes, poria and liquorice) and samul-tang (rehmannia, angelica, cnidium and peony) with astragalus and cassia bark added, and Korean medicine counts it as the archetypal restorative tonic. In August, before pouring, they showed us the ingredients laid out in a wooden box.

Mitou, Seoul: the sipjeon daebo-tang herbs in a wooden box

In August we drank a summer sake, and around the mizutaki the chef recommended a bottle of red Burgundy and brought it out, which is when I first learned that Mitou had a sommelier.

Mitou, Seoul: the Trapet Gevrey-Chambertin 2015 presented at the counter

After a few sips he said it had not opened yet and moved the rest into a decanter for us, and I remember it as a happy evening of drinking it with pleasure.

Mitou, Seoul: the sommelier preparing the decanter
Mitou, Seoul: the sommelier decanting the Burgundy

The summer sake was Ohmine, from Ohmine Shuzo (大嶺酒造) in Mine, Yamaguchi Prefecture. The brewery opened in 1822 and closed in 1955, and Akiyama Takeshi revived it in 2010.

Mitou, Seoul: Kim Bo-mi holding the Ohmine
Mitou, Seoul: the frosted Ohmine bottle
Mitou, Seoul: pouring the Ohmine into a wine glass

Three white rice grains are drawn on its frosted bottle.

Mitou, Seoul: the Ohmine bottle with its three white rice grains

The Burgundy the chef recommended was Trapet Père & Fils Gevrey-Chambertin Ostrea 2015.

Mitou, Seoul: the Trapet Gevrey-Chambertin Ostrea 2015 with a glass
Mitou, Seoul: pouring the Trapet Gevrey-Chambertin
Mitou, Seoul: the sommelier pouring the Burgundy

Trapet is a Gevrey-Chambertin domaine led by Jean-Louis Trapet, and it farms its vines biodynamically. Ostrea is Latin for oyster, and the name comes from the oyster fossils embedded in the village's limestone soil. It is a village wine drawn from four old, fossil-rich plots.

Mitou, Seoul: the sommelier pouring from the decanter

In Burgundy, 2015 was a hot, dry year in which the grapes ripened well.

Mitou, Seoul: the evening's bottles lined up on the back bar

Section 11·

Back to the mizutaki, the chicken hotpot that Fukuoka is known for!

Mitou, Seoul: the mizutaki ingredients, chicken, vegetables and minced chicken in a bamboo tube
Mitou, Seoul: pickles served with the mizutaki
Mitou, Seoul: ponzu with chopped chives for dipping

They told us they had brought in a Japanese chicken and raise it themselves.

Mitou, Seoul: Kim Bo-mi presenting the August mizutaki ingredients

Mitou went from a Korean native chicken, Hanhyup No. 3, to Cheonggye, and now raises Nagoya Cochin, counted among Japan's three great jidori (地鶏). To keep the breed from mixing, it keeps them apart from other chickens and hatches the eggs itself to keep the line pure. The Japanese chicken the chefs mentioned is this Nagoya Cochin.

Mitou, Seoul: Kwon Young-woon serving at the counter

Mizutaki (水炊き) is a local dish of Fukuoka. A Chinese-style dish of chicken simmered lightly with salt spread from Nagasaki, where foreign ships called, and with Western soups such as consommé and elements of Japanese cooking added, it became Fukuoka's own dish.

Mitou, Seoul: Kim Bo-mi serving the mizutaki from the donabe
Mitou, Seoul: the kitchen team serving the mizutaki in July
Mitou, Seoul: a cook serving the mizutaki in August

Nor is it a hotpot only for winter: at the closing rite of the Hakata Gion Yamakasa festival in summer, the dish the participants share is always mizutaki. Eating chicken broth in summer is close to Korea's baeksuk on boknal, and its roots in Chinese chicken cooking tie it to the course's Chinese theme as well.

Mitou, Seoul: the August mizutaki with chicken thigh, shiitake and radish
Mitou, Seoul: the August first bowl seen closer

First they served the thigh with its broth, and wow... the texture of the chicken was incredible.

Mitou, Seoul: the first bowl of mizutaki with chicken thigh
Mitou, Seoul: the first bowl seen closer
Mitou, Seoul: chicken dipped in chive ponzu

I felt I had not eaten chicken this springy in a very long time, and the broth felt like being at a baeksuk restaurant.

Mitou, Seoul: Kim Bo-mi serving meatballs from the donabe
Mitou, Seoul: Kim Bo-mi lifting a meatball into a bowl
Mitou, Seoul: Kim Bo-mi filling the next bowl

The second serving was meatballs of chicken tenderloin mixed with yam.

Mitou, Seoul: chicken tenderloin meatballs with spinach and shiitake
Mitou, Seoul: a meatball broken open

Last came zosui (雑炊), rice cooked in the broth like a Korean chicken porridge.

Mitou, Seoul: zosui cooked in the chicken broth
Mitou, Seoul: the zosui seen closer

This was delicious too, and I had the last of the rice refilled about twice...

Mitou, Seoul: the August meatballs
Mitou, Seoul: the August zosui

The 2023 autumn course ended with eel rice from the pot, while the restorative course ended with this zosui cooked in chicken broth instead, and even in this I felt a fine difference in the sense of season.

Section 12·

Several desserts followed, and the shaved-ice dessert, kakigori (かき氷) topped with Jeju mango and passion fruit, was cool and lovely in summer.

Mitou, Seoul: kakigori with Jeju mango and passion fruit

I was more taken, though, with the desserts that came after it, which had a Japanese feel.

Mitou, Seoul: a cook topping the kakigori with passion fruit
Mitou, Seoul: the kakigori seen closer
Mitou, Seoul: the August kakigori

The tea was a blend of oolongs from Taiwan, Japan and Korea with native Korean mint, and alongside it came jeungpyeon.

Mitou, Seoul: a cup of the oolong blend
Mitou, Seoul: the tea leaves of the blend
Mitou, Seoul: the tea leaves seen closer
Mitou, Seoul: the August tea

The jeungpyeon had oolong and red bean in it. Jeungpyeon is a Korean rice cake made from rice flour kneaded with makgeolli, fermented and steamed, and because it does not spoil easily it was made in summer.

Mitou, Seoul: jeungpyeon on a painted plate
Mitou, Seoul: the jeungpyeon from another angle
Mitou, Seoul: the August jeungpyeon with red bean

On the day of the August visit it was Kwon Young-woon's birthday, and the host who had organized our gathering brought a cake. I was amazed at the effort, care and quality: these days, if you set your mind to it, a custom cake can reach the level of a work of art.

Mitou, Seoul: Kim Bo-mi bringing out the birthday cake
Mitou, Seoul: the candle lit for Kwon Young-woon's birthday
Mitou, Seoul: Kwon Young-woon holding his birthday cake

It was a restorative course I enjoyed from start to finish, and it was good to come away with new impressions and experiences. The restorative course seems to run for the two months of July and August, and the following year, 2025, Mitou went beyond it to a summer course of Japanese-Chinese cooking that was entirely its own, which I was also able to experience. I will write it up as a review soon.

Mitou, Seoul: Kwon Young-woon and Kim Bo-mi with the cake