Words by Aude Camus
Sometimes, the timing of a restaurant invitation feels almost too perfect. I had spent much of my summer immersed in Kyoto, working on a destination guide for my full-time job and, in the process, inevitably falling down the rabbit hole of the city’s fascinating history, traditions and, most importantly, its food. So when an invitation landed in my inbox to discover GYU+ Bar by Miyoshi, the Hong Kong restaurant inspired by Kyoto’s Michelin-starred Niku no Takumi Miyoshi, it felt rather fitting.
What I hadn’t quite expected was to meet the man behind the philosophy himself. We were particularly lucky on this occasion as part of our media dinner to be served by Tsutomu Ito, chef and Wagyu shokunin behind Niku no Takumi Miyoshi in Kyoto’s Gion district. Ito-san had flown to Hong Kong for just two days for GYU+ Bar’s official opening, which, rather impressively, meant closing the doors of his tiny 14-seat, one-Michelin-starred restaurant back in Kyoto.
And when someone who has dedicated so much of his career to understanding one particular ingredient sits down to explain it to you (well, with a translator), you listen.
Wagyu, but not as you know it Sometimes, the timing of a restaurant invitation feels almost too perfect. I had spent much of my summer immersed in Kyoto, working on a destination guide for my full-time job and, in the process, inevitably falling down the rabbit hole of the city’s fascinating history, traditions and, most importantly, its food. So when an invitation landed in my inbox to discover GYU+ Bar by Miyoshi, the Hong Kong restaurant inspired by Kyoto’s Michelin-starred Niku no Takumi Miyoshi, it felt rather fitting.
What I hadn’t quite expected was to meet the man behind the philosophy himself. We were particularly lucky on this occasion as part of our media dinner to be served by Tsutomu Ito, chef and Wagyu shokunin behind Niku no Takumi Miyoshi in Kyoto’s Gion district. Ito-san had flown to Hong Kong for just two days for GYU+ Bar’s official opening, which, rather impressively, meant closing the doors of his tiny 14-seat, one-Michelin-starred restaurant back in Kyoto.
And when someone who has dedicated so much of his career to understanding one particular ingredient sits down to explain it to you (well, with a translator), you listen.
I’ll admit I arrived with one small concern. An entire tasting menu centred around Wagyu sounded, well… like it could be a lot.
As much as I love a good piece of beef, Wagyu’s famously high fat content can sometimes take you from “this is delicious” to “I think I need to lie down” surprisingly quickly. So the idea of eating Wagyu across an entire multi-course menu had me wondering whether my palate, and my stomach, would make it to the end.
As it turns out, this is precisely where the skill behind GYU+ Bar becomes apparent.
Ito-san’s philosophy isn’t about finding the most heavily marbled piece of Wagyu and putting it on a plate. It is about understanding the character of each cut, choosing the right one for the dish, slicing it correctly and then finding the cooking technique that allows its flavour, texture, aroma and natural umami to shine.
In other words, Wagyu isn’t treated as one ingredient. It is treated as many different ingredients. And suddenly, an all-Wagyu menu starts to make rather more sense.
We began with the Truffle Beef Wine, a concentrated consommé made entirely from beef and slow-simmered for more than 15 hours. Served in a wine glass, it was almost more of an introduction than a course: delicately beefy and perfumed with truffle and wonderfully warming without being heavy.
The Japanese Style Steam Abalone followed, and was a lovely early reminder that this isn’t a restaurant that intends to throw beef at you from beginning to end. The abalone is gently braised in its own broth for three hours, left to rest overnight to absorb those flavours, then lightly smoked over wood fire and served chilled.
Then came the dish that genuinely stopped me in my tracks.
Wagyu sashimi? Absolutely. The Japanese Style Steam Abalone followed, and was a lovely early reminder that this isn’t a restaurant that intends to throw beef at you from beginning to end. The abalone is gently braised in its own broth for three hours, left to rest overnight to absorb those flavours, then lightly smoked over wood fire and served chilled.
Then came the dish that genuinely stopped me in my tracks.
I’ve eaten plenty Wagyu in my life, but I had never eaten it sashimi-style. The Wagyu Sashimi uses thinly sliced Kagoshima A5 Wagyu rump cap, or ichibo, a naturally leaner cut from the hindquarter. The fine marbling provides just enough fat to create that wonderfully soft, almost melting texture without losing the character of the meat.
And delicate is exactly the word. There was something almost unexpected about eating Wagyu this way. It had a texture reminiscent of toro, with the richness of the marbling balanced by the leaner meat beneath it. It was easily one of my favourite dishes of the evening. And probably the one that best demonstrated Ito-san’s belief that Wagyu doesn’t always need to be grilled, seared or served as a traditional steak.
And delicate is exactly the word. There was something almost unexpected about eating Wagyu this way. It had a texture reminiscent of toro, with the richness of the marbling balanced by the leaner meat beneath it. It was easily one of my favourite dishes of the evening. And probably the one that best demonstrated Ito-san’s belief that Wagyu doesn’t always need to be grilled, seared or served as a traditional steak.
The Wagyu Sushi Miyoshi Style was another highlight. Lightly seared and finely chopped Wagyu is combined with seasonal seafood and caviar delicately smoked over lychee wood. Rich beef, delicate seafood and subtle smoke could easily have competed with each other, but instead the combination felt remarkably harmonious.
By this point, my initial fear of Wagyu overload was beginning to look rather silly.
When fire meets Wagyu By this point, my initial fear of Wagyu overload was beginning to look rather silly.
Wood fire is a big part of the GYU+ Bar experience, with edible-grade lychee wood burned in a custom-built lava-rock kiln at temperatures exceeding 500°C.
The result isn’t about making everything taste smoky. Instead, the fire is used with considerably more restraint, adding aroma while helping retain moisture and bringing another layer of flavour to the ingredients.
We saw this again in the Seasonal Vegetable, where wood-fired Japanese Ishikawa taro was paired with porcini mushrooms and kombu foam, before moving on to a refreshing yuzu and tarragon palate cleanser.
And then came the Shabu-shabu, which was entirely prepared in front of us. T he Kagoshima A5 Wagyu sirloin is sliced delicately before being gently swished through the dashi broth. Watching Ito-san go through the process himself, from slicing the beef to cooking it with such precision, was a small but memorable lesson in just how much craft goes into something that can look deceptively simple.
Served with wood-fired Akanasu eggplant from Kumamoto and a sesame ponzu, it was rich but beautifully balanced, with the smoky eggplant adding another dimension to the Wagyu.
And, importantly, it still didn’t feel too much.
The beauty of knowing when to stop Served with wood-fired Akanasu eggplant from Kumamoto and a sesame ponzu, it was rich but beautifully balanced, with the smoky eggplant adding another dimension to the Wagyu.
And, importantly, it still didn’t feel too much.
The final Wagyu course was a wood-fired Kagoshima Wagyu Tenderloin, deliberately served without a sauce so that the natural umami of the beef and aroma of the fire could take centre stage.
Instead, it comes with house-made condiments including red wine salt, wasabi, salt-cured black pepper and hishio, a traditional Japanese fermented seasoning considered an ancient precursor to soy sauce and miso. Each condiment brought something different, but the tenderloin didn’t really need much help. It was a fitting demonstration of the restaurant’s philosophy: sometimes the most skilled thing a chef can do is know when to leave an ingredient alone.
We finished with steamed Sagabiyori rice topped with soy-marinated egg yolk, Japanese pickles and a Kyoto-style white miso soup, a comforting, understated end to what had been a surprisingly varied meal.
Because that, ultimately, is what stayed with me about GYU+ Bar. I had arrived wondering whether an entire menu built around Wagyu might be excessive. Instead, I left thinking I could probably have carried on for another couple of courses. Not that I was still hungry at all, I just wanted the experience (yes because it’s an experience more than just a meal) not to stop.
That is no small feat. There is a huge amount of knowledge behind the meal — from selecting the right cut and slicing it at precisely the right thickness and temperature, to deciding whether it should be served raw, lightly seared, simmered or cooked over wood fire. And while the techniques are undoubtedly sophisticated, the end result never feels like a chef showing off for the sake of it.
The ingredient remains the star. And at HK$1,380 per person, I also walked away feeling that the tasting menu offers very good value for the quality of what you’re getting: premium Kagoshima A5 Wagyu, carefully sourced Japanese ingredients, intricate preparation and, on our evening, the rare opportunity to see the philosophy’s creator himself at work.
GYU+ Bar by Miyoshi may have brought a little piece of Kyoto’s Wagyu philosophy to Hong Kong, but it isn’t trying to recreate Gion in Lee Garden One. Instead, it takes the knowledge and craft behind Niku no Takumi Miyoshi and gives it a more contemporary, approachable Hong Kong expression.
And perhaps that’s the most interesting thing about it.
This article is based on a complimentary media dinner hosted by GYU+Bar by Miyoshi. No money has been paid to publish this review which is entirely based on the genuine opinion of its author.