Chef Natsume Aoi | Culinary Director at Mochidoki
Food is essential. Delicious food, a gift.
I grew up in the restaurant business. My parents built, launched and sustained a beloved neighborhood Chinese restaurant on Eastern Long Island for over 20 years. That restaurant not only provided for our daily livelihood but funded my college education and that of my three siblings. It was a generous well but only because it took everything my parents had -- 14 hours a day, seven days a week, 362 days a year (we were closed on Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter). There were no vacations. Unless you count opening at 2:00 pm on Sundays.
Where school busses dropped other kids off at their homes, mine dropped me off in the parking lot of our family restaurant. I studied geometry, biology and AP French at a two person table. Our customers, who watched me grow up, would ask about my grades (middling), my favorite subject (English) and which university I’d like to attend (anywhere in New York City). What was firmly planted in my mind was that I (as it was for my siblings) was never going to do anything with the restaurant world. My parents felt the same. The hours are long, the worries never ceasing, the work backbreaking. They wanted, like I wanted, me to work in a nicely air-conditioned office where it smelled of reams of paper with soft professional chatter in the background, not sizzling woks and barking demands. Something respectable -- where people showered before work, not after.
Over the years, I and my siblings reminisce about our restaurant life. We laugh about the stress of being in the weeds on Friday and Saturday nights. Delivery days on Mondays, Fridays and Saturdays where we’d help check off the ingredients received and promptly store perishables into the walk-in as quickly as possible. We wonder about the weekly regulars and their predictable orders and where they may be and where they may have defected to after our parents sold the restaurant.
Ironically, we often talk about opening up an eatery. (Insert facepalm emoji here.) We talk about the kind of food we’d like to serve, the service we’d like to provide, the packaging, the concept. As successful and accomplished we may be (whatever that means), we realized that working in our family restaurant deeply shaped our lives -- that we’d not be where we are today without that experience. It taught us discipline. It forged in us an incomparable work ethic and persistence (our parents had some incredibly tough years and giving up wasn’t an option). We learned about hospitality and building relationships. We learned how to run a business and how to manage finances. Most importantly, it taught us about the importance of a team and in our case, that team was us, our family. No university could ever teach me what I learned in our family restaurant. It is, in fact, the most respectable job I’ve ever had. For this, I am eternally grateful.
So, when I think about craftsmanship, the world of food, naturally, comes to mind. Chefs and cooks are scientists and artists. They’re craftsmen in how they hold a careful balance between the two to produce creations that are beautiful to look at, delicious to eat and nourishing for the body.
The Culinary Director at Mochidoki, Chef Natsume Aoi, is such a craftsperson.
I recently discovered Mochidoki while celebrating my younger daughter’s birthday -- this includes a lot of eating -- we entered the neat jewel box of a shop on Spring Street (masks on and hands sanitized) and exited with what has been the most delicious ice cream filled mochis I’ve ever tasted. My daughter will attest that I couldn’t stop murmuring to myself (for days) how unbelievably delicious was the strawberry and chocolate. I have since returned twice more to taste more flavors and, of course, I had to learn more about who, how and what went into these delightful bites of happiness.
That’s how I met Chef Aoi, who generously shared her time with me recently to talk about her craft, second chances and being steadfast with what she wants.
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Tell me about your life before the kitchen.
Kitchen, for me, is a second life.
I graduated from university in music -- I was teaching music and performing for a long while. I love music. Music is my first love. Music is my life. I loved the performing part but the teaching part presented a lot of challenges especially with the New York educational system. The subject, music, like art, and the way it was used in the curriculum was really challenging. The school I was at didn’t have a program so I built a performance program for them. It included teachings on music appreciation and music history. There were some individuals who were very good singers. I thought, why not do a choir, a chorus -- the school didn’t have enough money for instruments so the best instruments that we have are our voices. I was basically able to build a makeshift performance program for them and the students were happy. Some enjoyed dancing and we incorporated that into the program, too.
When it got cut, I saw that as a sign for me. I took a hiatus from teaching for about six months. I’m one of those people who is very uncomfortable with taking so much time off and not doing something all the time.
My instrument was the piano. I sing also and I had a lead singer who performed across the city where I was the keyboardist. We performed in lounges and had gigs around the city. That was lovely. I’m hoping to pick it back up again but for now, I’m focusing my time on Mochidoki. My love of the kitchen is on par with music.
Tell me how you made the leap from music to the kitchen.
My father was a chef so it was in the family. I’ve always loved the kitchen -- I just never really thought to do it professionally. When I took my hiatus I spent a lot of time asking myself and thinking about doing something else. Do I go back into music or is there something else? It was a logical transition into the kitchen because it was something I was familiar with and love.
I went back to school to get a culinary degree and then landed my first job with Chef Nobu in New York. It was difficult in the beginning -- depending on what level you’re at it’s tough, it's a labor of love -- there’s no stability and the compensation is low. You need to work towards it. I had to work several jobs in the beginning and you kind of get through and everything works out.
Working with Chef Nobu was my first professional experience in a restaurant before that I was dabbling here and there. His midtown restaurant was my first true position.
A few years ago, I was in Japan and Shanghai. I was sent over to Shanghai with Chef Jean-Georges Vongrichten to open one of his flagship restaurants.
What made you decide to focus your culinary studies in pastry?
Pastry is very multifaceted. I studied pastry and artisan baking. Making bread and pastry are two completely different disciplines. I wanted to do both. Within pastry there are at least four categories -- there’s viennoiserie, sugar, chocolates, basic tarts. I appreciate the science behind pastry. I like to think I am a fairly logical and very numbers-oriented person. I’ve always liked math and science so going into pastry is very logical. Cooking is more about how you feel at the moment. For example, we know it takes a certain amount of time to make a bolognese and there are recipes to make it but a lot of it depends on the palate. Some of the greatest and most amazing chefs out there have recipes but it's their palate that makes it unique. As a result, there will be differences. So I needed something more scientific and objective -- I like knowing that if you give me a recipe and I follow it will come and if I don’t it will fall flat. I’ve always been like that so as a result pastry is second nature.
Do you see parallels between music and pastry?
Absolutely. It’s a lot of math and science which is why it was so simple for me to go from music.
Tell me about mochi. My experience with mochi is as a Westerner even though I’m from Hong Kong. What are the differences between the mochi in the States versus traditional Japanese mochi versus the mochi at Mochidoki?
Traditional mochi is the mochi (rice) dough and inside are either azuki (red bean paste), kuri (chestnut), or shiro-an (white sweet paste). That’s how we fill traditional mochi. Then there’s mochi that doesn't have a filling and is made from kuzu (kudzo) starch or warabi (Bracken) starch or kinako (roasted soybean flour) -- it would be the mochi itself and dusted with kinako or served with kuromitsu, a sugar syrup, over it and eat it like that. That’s more common in Japan. That’s what I grew up with and that’s what I prefer. Or the ones that are filled with bean paste. That’s what I was making at Morimoto as well.
Mochi with ice cream is a Western take on mochi. It’s not a Western invention so much it is a Westernized one. Mochi is from Japan and the idea of filling the mochi is a Japanese innovation. Filling it with ice cream is definitely a Western idea.
In Japan, we have it filled with ice cream but it’s not the same. Here, it’s a thin mochi dough wrapping the ice cream. In Japan, which I prefer, it is a thicker mochi dough. I like mochi. I like mochi more than ice cream. Most Japanese people do.
Tell us more about other pastries and desserts in Japan. As a Hong Konger transplanted to New York, I grew up with desserts that were more about textures and layers of flavors versus sugary. My parents would often complain that the desserts in the States are too sweet.
The most traditional dessert would be wagashi. First of all the portions are very small, unlike here. The portions are one or two bites like petit fours and eaten with tea. The concept of dessert, in Japan, is not something to be eaten at the end of a meal. That’s a Western concept. Japanese concept is chaten. Like, English high tea. We always have a good, strong bowl of matcha with our sweets. Eating something sweet after dinner is a thing but it’s usually fruit. Also, Japan is a lover of French desserts so my training is Japanese and French. We love French pastries and French confectionaries, in general. The difference in Japan is that everything is lightened and airy and portions are a lot smaller. Americans, for the most part, like richness. They like decadence. It’s delicious but you can’t eat too much of it, truly. I think there have been very delicious desserts that have come out of America but overall it’s denser and richer.
Also, in Japan, the pastries have more balance in terms of flavors. For example, adding something that’s bitter or tart -- rarely would you find a composed pastry in Japan where everything is sweet or everything is rich -- maybe you'll find one compartment that’s a little sweeter or a little richer but then you’ll find something surrounding it that’s more tart or lighter.
Previously, you were the Executive Pastry Chef at Morimoto NYC and now, the Culinary Director at Mochidoki -- tell me how that came to be.
I’m not even sure how we quite found each other. Or how they found me. It was quite a few months ago and I was at Morimoto. Even before the virus happened, Morimoto was slated to close because our lease was expiring after 15 years. We ended on a high note and would have closed in May anyways with or without the virus. I had to look forward to the next chapter of my career. My heart has always been on Japanese ingredients and Japanese desserts. It is the core of who I am and I won’t do anything I don’t love. It’s a waste of time and a waste of love.
I think at the same time Mochidoki was in the process of opening their first brick and mortar shop in SoHo (New York). The company already had quite an impressive number of restaurants to which they were supplying mochi as well as through their own online shop. They had a classic set of flavors and a rotation of seasonal flavors. At that point, they were ready for someone to take over the culinary part and dedicate to developing new creations and flavors every season. They wanted to make their culinary department much more ambitious. The timing was right with the closing of Morimoto and the opening of Mochidoki’s first shop. At the initial meeting with Ken [Gordon], who is the owner, I thought to myself this seems almost meant to be. Let’s make this happen. I joined Mochidoki about six months ago.
What made this opportunity at Mochidoki a no-brainer? What was that a-ha moment where you thought, this is the right move for me?
They were willing to give me full control over all culinary creative efforts. I would not think to do anything else. At this point in my career, I am looking for something where I have next to no limitations. Mochidoki was willing to trust me and give me full range.
What or who inspires you? You strike me as someone who is very clear about who you are and what you want.
I definitely have had mentors who are extremely creative with flavors. They would work with flavor combinations that may sound a bit weird or strange but taste delicious. But they can work! I enjoy seeing very creative and adventurous experiments.
I don’t always want to use chocolate, for example, because that is an ingredient that everyone loves and uses. My specialty is Japanese ingredients. My entire menu at Morimoto was based on 90% Japanese ingredients. My mentors encouraged me to not be shy about that.
That’s who I am.
Just like when I was doing music, my concentration was in baroque and jazz -- that’s me, that’s what I love. If I was asked, in the middle to do the romantic period and to learn to love playing Chopin it would be difficult because I don’t do that. It’s not me.
When I was younger and studying music I was definitely swayed into many, many different things because I thought this is what people want me to be. I probably wasted a lot of time trying to find out what was right for me. The decisions, after I went into the culinary world because this is my second go, took almost no time for me to decide -- this is the route I want to go, this is the kind of cuisine I want to focus on, these are the ingredients that I want to work with and this is my profile as a pastry chef. I already did a bit of running around when I was doing music. The second time around took no time to know what I wanted to do.
Do you ever waver or question that you may have limited yourself in defining yourself so clearly?
No. I could try other things and I know I wouldn’t be happy. Even if it was a more stable path in a different sort of discipline there’s no way because I wouldn’t be happy. Life is short.
How do you hone your craft?
Naturally, as a chef, I am in the kitchen all the time. Just like if I was in a conservatory, I am in the practice room six to eight hours a day. Muscle movement and technical skills are things we need to do naturally as a result because we’re practicing all the time. Even when I don’t need to be in the kitchen I am here. I think most chefs are this way. It’s how we maintain our skills.
At Mochidoki, the days in which I am working, I have an agenda. I know what and how much I have to create that day. On the days that I’m not scheduled to be here, I’m here anyways to test out ideas, making new things, seeing what works and what fails -- this is my time, I choose to be here. You need to be physically in the kitchen -- it’s my lab.
Tell me about the Mochidoki customer. The New York customer is different -- we’re a bit more adventurous about trying new foods -- we’re also more familiar with new ingredients beyond red bean and green tea. As Mochidoki is expanding is there a concern that this isn’t going to catch on. How does Mochidoki decide where it will expand?
On the Mochidoki.com website we have customers ordering from across the country so it’s been a great way to see where our biggest fans are and think about where we can go next. While we offer more familiar flavors like chocolate, strawberry and vanilla chip, we also push the boundaries, encouraging people to be adventurous and explore new ingredients they might never have tasted, like ube, kuromitsu and ceremonial grade matcha.
Our customer base at Mochidoki SoHo falls into three different categories -- one, the regulars. They live around the neighborhood and visit us two to three times a week. Some come early in the day and then come back after dinner. They may come to pick up a collection box as a gift. These people believe in our product and want to share it with others.
The second group, they walk into our shop and announce, this is my first time here. They ask what is mochi? They might see our creations on Instagram. They have no idea what to expect.
And there is a group in the middle. They’re not necessarily returning customers because they don’t live in the area. They know what mochi is, they want mochi and they walk in once for the in-person experience and then they’re excited when they learn they can order Mochidoki online as well.
Tell me about your ingredients. How you source them. How you decide whether or not to use ingredients that the Western palate may not be familiar with -- do you ever say to yourself, I don’t want to turn off customers so I’m not going to use this or that.
No. (Laughing) In fact, I may be challenged to call it something else that is easier to pronounce or more familiar. And I reply, no. I want to use what I want to use and call it what it is called. As for sourcing, I have a network of purveyors that I’ve used while I was with Morimoto and while I was working at a Japanese bakery -- so I know the range of ingredients I can work with. I’m not shy about traveling to Japan and locating the ingredients myself. I try not to go too mad about it. Another reason why we thrive on the coasts is because the access to ingredients is incomparable. For the most part, everything that I need to check off my list is available.
How has the pandemic shaped how you work, your creations and where you want to take Mochidoki?
My vision hasn’t changed. Ken’s vision hasn’t changed. The pandemic, however, has changed day-to-day operations at the shop, though, we’re doing our best to adapt. For example, I used to order ingredients a week in advance and now I need to plan more thoughtfully and order several weeks in advance. Some operations may have altered, but everything else remains the same. We’re a great team. We make it happen. And while there are certainly fewer people out and about, our delivery options and ecommerce site have helped us to build a really passionate following.
We opened on 3/12. We closed the next day. Then we had protests. We closed again and we opened again.
It’s been tough but we are hanging in there. There is love and confidence in our products and I hope that customers see and taste that. I hope that customers read blogs like this and learn what goes on behind the scenes. They can visit our website, too, and come in to say hello -- I’m always here.
What’s on the horizon?
I can share that we are already considering a second location in New York. I am excited to see where we will go as a company. I am grateful for my team and looking forward to seeing what we can accomplish together.
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All photos in this post are courtesy of Mochidoki unless otherwise noted.