Find Grace in Peace
The story of a quiet, tiny restaurant staying low in the busiest spot of Guangzhou.
Resting in the fields, far from the turbulent space
—— Bob Dylan, “Jokerman”
When you think of an izakaya, what would the image be? An old man, with a towel around his neck, doing yakitori behind the bar, while drinking with a bunch of working class customers in midnight?
Sarari is the opposite of those bold, tribal, noisy, social experience. Down with its presence, sitting in the far corner from the wild crowds, you enter the state of an outer world, derailed from the urban dynamics.
A Box of Chocolate.
Sarari has no menu. It is “omakase”, but not in the form of a set menu like those fine sushi bars. What Sarari offers everyday depends on the habits of the returning guests, the seasonal dishes, and the guest’s pre-ordered courses. As a new customer, you never know what you’re getting before entering the restaurant (unless you asked beforehand).
“I, eventually, am not Japanese, and didn’t grow up in Japan. There are so many Japanese dishes that I have never tasted and cooked. It is the work of all food-enthusiastic guests from all over Japan that built the Sarari of today.
There is a dish we make called croquette, a normal family dish in Japan. There were usually guests that said they found the taste of their childhood in it. To perfect this croquette, I spent about 2 months to improve. Most of our guests are over 40, because our courses are mostly boil/stew-based, healthy and comfortable. “
——Junjun
Sarari has only 9 seats, all by the bar, surrounding the kitchen. It is fairly difficult to do walk-in. Seats are usually reserved. The few times I did walk-in were all at 6PM, when the restaurant just opened.
Unshakably Honest.
You don’t come to Sarari for the finest food and service. You come, to appreciate this last bit of purity and integrity in the so well commercialized world of culinary.
I was surely surprised when the chef-owner Junjun told me that Sarari opened 6 years ago, and she barely knew about cooking back then. “I refused all commercial advertising. I only want to serve my guests well every time and make them feel welcomed and comfortable.”
The result of her guts, which could seem devastating to other regular restaurant runners, is yet truly heart-warming to herself. Sarari is rated 3-ish star on Dazhong Dianpin (Chinese version of Yelp), while filled with Japanese customers every night and a monthly schedule so fully reserved.
Interior Design
Sarari took over the exact interior from the previous shop whose owner was a friend of Junjun. But this unique atmosphere Sarari creates is the result of not only the interior, but also the chef-owner, the food, the customers, and so many more combined. That is something no restaurant could ever fake.
Compact, but tidy. Sarari, to me, felt like the herbal pharmacy in Miyazaki Hayao’s “Spirited Away” at first glance. But soon it reminded me of how Kuma Kengo’s illustrates “stage-like space”, “sangharama”, and “coffee bars” in his book “Ten Types of Japanese Residences”:
“Coffee bars become the space where singular guests can review themselves from a distance. Guests can utilize this space to show off their performing skill, and re-examine themselves through their own acting.
The basic function of a performing space is to foil the guests’ performing skill. Thus, if the space is designed too attractive, it would overtake the charm of the performers.
A performing space should be sangharama, neutral, with nothing extra. In a performing space, design issues brought by individual plots could be handily solved by some props such as counter, chairs, and vases, which could help performers properly design their plots on the stage.”
Kyoto Style Miso Eggplant
Equilibrium.
People walk into restaurants with some types of preconceptions, and restaurants are designed to convey their values by building up preconceptions beforehand and manipulate emotions during the experience.
The emotion one carries with while stepping into Le Bernardin could be massively different from lining by a taco truck.
At Sarari, you don’t feel privileged, yet you don’t feel uncared. Your emotion reaches the perfect state of equilibrium. Your subjective criticism goes blank. All you do is consume and say no more, just like having dinner at home everyday.
It also feels like taking a piece of bread at church. You don’t expect it to be good or bad, regardless of how thankful you are.
Unintentional.
Every spiritual thing I mentioned about Sarari is, I believe, unintentionally designed. They are the beautiful bi-products of Sarari’s purity, simplicity, and honesty.
At Sarari, it is never about the food itself, but the sound, the people, the scarce heart-warming atmosphere that filters you down into your own essence.