São Paulo's Japanese Cuisine Blends Two Worlds in a Uniquely Brazilian Way

At Aizomê, a stylish Japanese restaurant tucked behind trees near São Paulo's Avenida Paulista, the menu is both familiar to Japanese food lovers and distinctly Brazilian. Dishes feature pirarucu, a huge Amazonian fish, prepared in saikyo yaki-a sweet-miso method usually used on black cod-and ponzu sauce made with tucupi, a tart liquid derived from fermented wild manioc.

Owner Telma Shiraishi, a third-generation São Paulo native whose grandparents came from Japan's Wakayama and Iwate prefectures, says it wouldn't make sense for her to cook 100% Japanese food using only ingredients from Japan. Over two decades leading Aizomê, she has moved from a fiercely traditional approach to what she calls Nipo-Brazilian cuisine, blending techniques and ingredients from both cultures.

Brazil is home to an estimated 2 million people of Japanese descent, the largest such community outside Japan, with most living in São Paulo. Japanese migration began after a 1907 agreement allowed workers for coffee plantations. The Liberdade neighborhood became the community's nucleus, and early Japanese restaurants served mainly their own people.

For years, Brazilians were wary of raw fish, but American-style sushi boats and cream-cheese rolls helped break down those prejudices, Shiraishi says. Now São Paulo has about 3,000 Japanese restaurants, ranging from high-end omakase and kaiseki to izakayas, ramen, udon, tempura, and tonkatsu spots, spread across the city rather than confined to Liberdade.

Shiraishi's approach reflects how early immigrants adapted local ingredients-chard leaves instead of seaweed for sushi, papaya root for burdock. Her tasting menu includes chayote marinated in cachaça and soy sauce, Amazonian mapará replacing eel, and dashi made with dried Brazilian fish. She notes only kombu, the umami-rich kelp, has no local substitute.

Izakayas have also boomed. Wagner Higuchi runs Kintaro in Liberdade, founded by his parents in 1993, serving homemade dishes that mix Edo-period classics like braised burdock and carrot with "colony" creations such as vinegary marinated tilapia. He says the food evokes memories of "batchan" (grandma) cooking for Japanese descendants, though a visitor from Japan might find some items unusual.

On the other end, Kanoê offers an exclusive omakase with a $268 tasting menu, packed nightly. Owner Tadashi Shiraishi (no relation to Telma) trained in Japan, Europe, and the US. He serves tuna first because guests are often too full to enjoy it at the end, and he prizes a vinegary, warm rice whose provenance is a closely guarded secret. He says São Paulo's sushi scene now rivals New York's, thanks to wealthier, well-traveled Brazilians.

Tadashi's focus is preserving traditional Japanese technique rather than creating fusion food, though he acknowledges the city offers everything from Brazilian-adapted formats to purist interpretations. Telma Shiraishi, who plans to open a new restaurant in the Saúde neighborhood this year, says the new generation prefers sushi to McDonald's. "As a community of descendants, we have to tell our story," she says, and São Paulo's chefs are telling it louder than ever.