Behind the counter, a single barista operates in near silence. Only the steady drip of water into the coffee grounds can be heard, flowing from a gooseneck kettle gripped precisely between the hands. Customers sit in padded booths or dark wooden chairs that seem out of an entirely different age, hushed thogether almost religiously so.
Kissaten are like chapels to the world of coffee: contemplative, sacrosanct, devoted entirely to the pursuit of the perfect brew. Faithful fans patronize these locations, committed to their kissa of choice, or to the ritual of routine that creates a sanctified space buffered from the outside world. Throughout modern history, from the very first cafe established by Tei Ei-kei in 1888 in Nagasaki to the jazz kissa of the 1920s onwards (which mixed Western tastes of music and coffee), kissaten and their role in Japan have always been idosyncratic, distinct, and full of reverant respect.
What’s remained the same, even as time has passed and the function of the kissaten has transformed, is the fundamental importance of coffee itself.
What are Kissaten?
“Cafe” is a pale word to describe the unique richness of Japanese kissaten. And, while there may be commonalities between each different kissa—a propensity for dark wood, red velvet fabric that glimmers in sparse sunlight which filters in through stained glass windows, a smokiness that can be attributed to both the minimal lighting and Japan’s relatively lax indoor smoking restrictions—each kissaten is an ecosystem truly of its own.
At its apex is the “masuta–”, or “master”, a pilfered loanword from English meant to convey proprietor, manager, and barista, all in one. More than just serving coffee, “masters” operate according to their own principles, set the tone of the space, and dedicate their lives to the craft—in this case, coffee. Often, each cup is hand-poured, beans selected and ground to exacting standards, with the use of espresso machines eschewed due to the lack of personal touch.
Merry White, in her book Coffee Life in Japan, describes kissaten multifariously as “the haunt of artists, writers, and intellectuals,” as a place that “serves coffee (as) its main offering.” They are also a pivotal third-space that provides a community away from work and home, uncontaminated by outside pressures. Both unassumingly quotidian and a curated escape from the everyday, kissaten have provided a coffee-centered space for countless generations in Japan. They’ve played distinct roles across the last hundred years of society in Japan, and continue to serve an important niche of coffee life in Japan today.
The History of Kissaten in Japan
Coffee first crossed Japan’s borders during the 16th and 17th centuries on Portuguese ships or through Dutch traders, filtering in through Nagasaki ports at a time when international interaction was strictly regulated by the Edo government. Coffee’s earliest utilizations in Japan weren’t even culinary, but rather medicinal (among the foreign communities), or as stimulants for those working in red light districts. It was by no means an instant hit, and it wasn’t until the late 19th and 20th centuries—when the centuries-long era of isolation relaxed and borders reopened—that coffee began to proliferate throughout a broader range of social classes in Japan.
It was here when all things “Western” poured in, with coffee a stand-out highlight. Returnees to Japan, especially artistic intellectuals sojourning in Europe and America, who brought with them “modern” Western tastes and had frequented cafes during their time abroad, led the charge for cafes as spaces for cultural exchange without rigid hierarchy, in contrast to the formalized rituals of tea ceremony. At the same time, a mass influx of rural migrants flocked to urban areas, with cafes becoming a “home away from home” for these transplants to connect—a large number of which were young women, sent to industrialized cities to financially support their families, but who found a taste of independence away from constrictive, traditional values.
These early kissaten cafes infused elements of inspiration from abroad, cherry-picking imagery of Vienna, France, London, even Brazil into their designs, while serving up inventive Western dishes (such as ketchup-based Napolitan pasta, which remains a kissaten standard even to this day) alongside the main draw: coffee. It created a space that, while founded in homage to imported ideals, developed to become something that was wholly and uniquely Japanese.
Kissaten in Modern Times
But far from being antiquated relics of history, a leftover remnant of an era before the third-wave revolution and the prevalence of nationwide coffee brands that diminished the number of independent cafes—both domestic, like Doutor or Renoir, or imported sensations, like Starbucks and Blue Bottle—kissaten have experienced a resurgence that can’t be explained away with mere Showa retro nostalgia alone.
While no mention of Japan’s greatest kissaten would be complete without Ginza’s Cafe de’Lambre, a legendary fixture of Japan’s cafe culture since its establishment in 1948, other quintessential Tokyo kissaten, (Galant, Gion, Sabor, Cafe Paulista, a near-endless parade of atmospheric establishments) dutifully continue to service their local regulars. Happily, these now inlcude an increasingly younger rotation of faces, as new generations of fans become drawn to the kissaten tradition.
Compared to their chain-store counterparts, kissa offer two unparalleled benefits: personality and community. Unlike the forgettable service of Starbucks, where baristas rotate daily, customers pour in and out faceless, and menus are served to a national standard that lacks that personal touch, kissaten lay mercy to the whim of the master. Each location retains its own distinct charm or kodawari, an obsession with particulars, that might lead one kissaten master to fermented beans and another to specialized siphons, all dependent on what they feel personally leads to the perfect cup of coffee.
There is also an undeniable element of performance in kissaten that draws in customer participation—you’re not just grabbing a cup of coffee, you’re watching the barista navigate through convoluted systems of siphons, flasks, glass tubes, and machinery to create a single brew, all just for you. And no two kissa master pursue the same principles, meaning that in every kissaten lies a novel experience—and also, a different side of yourself. By entering a jazz kissa—centered around high-quality speakers, surrounded by other jazz zealots, all drawn together by a similar passion—customers can slip off their outside identities and immerse solely in drinking coffee, silently, side by side.
Outside of the historically entrenched icons, newly constructed cafes are also chasing the kissa aesthetic, complete with analog relics and accented with pops of neon. These “neo-kissaten,” which include locations like Shinjuku’s 27 Kissa and Nakano’s Coffee Zingaro (operated by contemporary artist Takashi Murakami’s brand), pursue the visual elements and the craft of coffee, but have a tendency to decentralize the role of the master, one of the key elements of a true kissa.
The Future of Kissaten
While kissaten may no longer be in their heyday, the haunts of turn-of-the-age literati or intrepid customers experimenting with their first tastes of Western culture, they’ve become a well-worn fixture across Japan. And, as the outside world churns on at a dizzying pace, overwhelming with workplace demands, academic pressure, or the doldrums of daily life, kissaten continue to act as a refuge. These are a kind of safe space marked by the permeating scent of coffee beans roasting and laid-back music mulling in the background, a haven for coffee-lovers seeking both a cup and a community. By continuing to support them we help ensure that the tradition can continue for generations to come.
Taylor Bond is a freelance journalist based in Tokyo. Read more Taylor Bond for Sprudge.
