Dining with the Whale: A Night at LA BALENA NEL PARCO

On a cool October evening in Tokyo, I stepped into LA BALENA NEL PARCO, a quiet new fusion restaurant tucked beside Hibiya Park. The name means "The Whale in the Park" in Italian, and it lived up to that promise, hosting a rare tasting of fresh whale meat delivered directly from Kyodo Senpaku's research vessel Nisshin Maru.

Inside, a long counter stretched beneath warm lighting. At the center stood a row of chefs in crisp white coats, arranging trays of deep-red slices and pale, marbled cuts. Diners leaned forward, quietly chatting as the evening began.

Fresh from the Sea

Before the first course, Kyodo Senpaku's president, Hideki Tokoro, offered a few words. Just the day before, he said, the company's third offshore expedition of the year had returned to Sendai Port. From there, fresh whale meat, not frozen, but chilled immediately after butchering, had been rushed to Tokyo by Shinkansen that morning.

"It's almost impossible to serve whale like this," one of the chefs added, speaking softly as he arranged thin slices on a platter. "Normally, everything is frozen at minus sixty degrees right after landing. But this — this was caught only a day ago."

The meat came from a sei whale (iwashi kujira), and the chef made a point of calling the cut onomi, a rare, marbled section from near the tail, used sparingly even in high-end preparations. He smiled as he laid out two pieces per guest. "This doesn't happen twice," he said. "It's truly fresh."

A Progression in Taste

The first dish arrived: whale sashimi, glistening under soft light. It was tender but not delicate, a texture somewhere between tuna and beef carpaccio. The flavor was clean, faintly sweet, without any trace of the heaviness often associated with whale. Dipped lightly in soy, it seemed to dissolve on the tongue, leaving a mineral depth that lingered.

Next came engawa sushi, made from a thin, fatty portion. The chef warned that it was "different from fish," and he was right: it melted almost instantly, leaving only the scent of the sea and a soft whisper of fat.

The third dish presented another kind of whale sushi, leaner, darker, and more robust in flavor. Warm rice brought out the sweetness of the meat and softened its texture. It resembled wagyu beef in richness, though the finish was lighter and touched with the sea's quiet salt.

Heavier Notes

Then came what could only be called a whale steak. It was a thick cut resting on mashed potatoes infused with rosemary. The knife slipped through with ease, revealing a dark, wine-colored interior. Juices pooled like a rich broth, carrying a gentle smokiness. No sauce accompanied it. The flavor stood entirely on its own. "We didn't need to marinate it," the chef explained. "Just salt and heat."

The final dish was a whale stew cooked in red wine, slow-simmered until the meat turned supple and velvety. A deep, aromatic sauce enveloped each piece, rich yet restrained. Served in small portions, it felt like a dialogue between tradition and modern technique — neither distinctly Japanese nor French, but somewhere in between. One of the chefs remarked that the dish showed how whale could "belong on any table," not just in memories of the past.

Tradition, Reimagined

Between dishes, Tokoro spoke about why events like this matter. He described how whale, once a postwar staple, had vanished from daily life, "but not from the Japanese heart," he said. The company's goal, he added, was not simply to sell meat but to protect a cultural tradition of "eating from the sea in balance."

He also touched on nutrition: whale meat, he noted, is rich in protein and low in fat, and contains a peptide called balenine, said to reduce fatigue and aid recovery. "People think of it as something from the past," he said, "but it might actually be food for the future."

The chefs shared a different perspective, not corporate, but craft. "We don't want this to be nostalgic," one said while torching a slice of red meat. "We want people to be surprised that it tastes this good." He added, "When it's this fresh, it's closer to beef than to fish. But it's still whale, unique, alive, powerful."

A Taste of the Unfamiliar

As the plates cleared and sake glasses clinked, a quiet satisfaction filled the room. The meal had unfolded like a story, one of rediscovery rather than defiance.

LA BALENA NEL PARCO is part of Kyodo Senpaku's effort to reintroduce whale as a fine cuisine, rather than a nostalgic one. This food reflects Japan's maritime heritage while appealing to modern sensibilities of sustainability and craftsmanship. Whether it returns to everyday dining or remains an occasional delicacy, the experience revealed how tradition can evolve through care and creativity.

For one evening in Tokyo, the focus wasn't debate, but flavor, a quiet celebration of technique, respect, and the sea itself.

Author: Daniel Manning