When Pizza Spoke Japanese

Happy 2025!
I hope this year brings you the strength to grow, learn, and become the best version of yourself. Don’t forget to cherish the small things that bring you joy—whether it’s a hobby or that quiet voice of curiosity inside you. This newsletter is fueled by that very curiosity. For years, I felt it slip away, but living in Japan helped me rediscover and reignite it in ways I never imagined.
If you're new here—welcome! I'm Ina. I originally came to Japan to study the language but ended up working in the food industry, media events, and even on cryptocurrency exchange. My main platform is Paragraph, an on-chain newsletter where I post 2-3 times a month each Tuesday 9am Japan Local Time. Last year, I also launched a podcast called ‘Bee Curious’, which you can check out here.

Today, I wanted to talk about PIZZA in Japan.

Many foreigners visiting Japan—or even expats living here—often have mixed impressions of the pizza scene. I’ve met people who complain about Italian cuisine in Japan, but I’ve also met world-class chefs who say the opposite. In 2020, I had the opportunity to assist a 3 Michelin-starred Italian chef during an event in Japan. The chef incorporated Japanese condiments into his Italian dishes, and the event was incredible. I learned so much in those three intense days—event planning is no joke! If you’ve never worked with chefs before, let me tell you, it’s not as glamorous as it looks. Chefs can be intense, and yes, some have quite the attitude!

Interestingly, the chef had many Japanese “deshi” (apprentices) who trained under him in Italy and later returned to Japan to open their own Italian restaurants. We collaborated with them during the event, and it was fascinating to witness the cultural exchange between Italy and Japan—two worlds blending their unique approaches to food and business. Years ago, most Japanese chefs considered France the ultimate destination for culinary training. Many trained under famous French chefs and brought those skills back to Japan. Is no wonder Tokyo is the city with the most Michelin Stars in the world. However, over the last 20 years, there’s been a growing trend of younger chefs heading to Naples, Milan, Florence, and beyond to master Italian cuisine. They not only learned to cook but also picked up the language, bringing back a rich cultural exchange that continues to shape Japan’s culinary landscape today.

So, if you’re wondering whether pizza (or Italian food) in Japan is worth trying—trust me, there’s more to the story than you might think! And YES is worth trying, don't listen to the skeptics or the ones who have not researched well. If you check the latest World’s 50 Best Pizzas list, you’ll notice some exciting new entries from Japan. The Pizza Bar on 38th and Pizza Studio Tamaki have both secured spots, showcasing the talent of Japanese pizzaioli.

I’ll admit, I wasn’t always aware of how good pizza in Japan could be. Back when I was a student, my budget allowed me only Saizeriya—a cheap Italian chain where you can grab a meal for around 500 yen(2-3$). Let’s just say the quality isn’t exactly top-tier. If you want great pizza in Tokyo, you need to do a little research. With the city being such a sprawling metropolis, hidden gems are everywhere.

Interestingly, David Chang mentioned on his Netflix show Ugly Delicious that the best pizza he’s ever had was in Tokyo.

It raises the question—does authenticity guarantee perfection in a dish? I’d argue it doesn’t. The best food often comes from chefs who are constantly dissatisfied with their work. They approach cooking like artisans, taking immense pride in refining and perfecting their craft.

If you dig deeper, you’ll uncover some remarkable figures who have shaped Italian cuisine in Japan. One such pioneer is Makoto Onishi, who won the Best Individual Award at Pizza Fest in Naples back in 2003. Competing alongside seasoned veterans from Naples, Onishi’s winning marked a turning point for Japanese pizza-making.

Photo Credit: Pizzeria Mancini - Our Story

His journey started in Osaka and Tokyo, but he eventually traveled to Italy to master the art of Neapolitan pizza. Onishi trained at a pizzeria on Ischia Island, completing a six-month apprenticeship before returning to Japan in late 2003. In 2012, Onishi founded the 'Japanese Neapolitan Pizza Artisans Association' and was appointed its first president, solidifying his influence on the growth of Italian cuisine in Japan. In an interview, Makoto Onishi reflected on a pivotal moment in his journey:

"In 2006, I visited the legendary pizza chef Gaetano’s restaurant, 'Da Gaetano,' on the island of Ischia. Despite not knowing much about me, a young Japanese man, Gaetano welcomed me warmly. I trained there for four consecutive years, and I was incredibly fortunate to learn directly from two masters—Gaetano and his brother-in-law, Pasquale. What I gained wasn’t just technical skill but a deeper understanding of humanity. To this day, my motto is: ‘Pizza should be baked with the heart.’

Onishi spoke about the intensity of the craft and how experience shapes the skill of a true pizzaiolo:

"I realized that the difference between skilled Neapolitan pizza makers lies in the sheer number of pizzas they bake. At popular restaurants, they make up to 1,000 pizzas a day—each craftsman baking over 300. In contrast, at Cesari, I could only manage around 50 a day. I understood that to improve, I had to keep baking, just like in Naples where pizzas are sold for around 500 yen. At the time, pizzas in Japan cost over 1,000 yen, but gradually we lowered the price. Eventually, we started offering pizzas for just 500 yen. It became a huge hit, and soon we were receiving orders for 300 to 400 pizzas daily. It was a hectic period, but I could feel my skills improving rapidly."

Now as for me, the best pizza in the world is in Tokyo. I’ve traveled extensively and tasted countless pizzas, but nothing compares to Savoy Pizza Azabujuban. When I first discovered Savoy, it was in a tiny location—just a counter with seating for about ten people. The menu was simple, offering only two types of pizza. That small spot eventually closed, and they relocated to a larger space. But back then, getting a reservation meant waiting at least a week.

I remember it very well—it was a date with my now-husband. The first bite was 'oh la la' like the French says. The fluffy, slightly salted dough, the vibrant tomato sauce, and the drizzle of olive oil—it was pure magic. I still remember that taste. At their new location, they’ve taken things to another level by blending Japanese flavors with Italian tradition. One standout is their pizza topped with Pacific Bluefin tuna. A generous mound of raw tuna is placed over the cheese before the pizza heads into the oven. When it comes out, the pizzaiolo gently flattens the tuna, revealing a mix of cooked and raw textures. The pizza is served with a side of wasabi—my husband’s favorite.

So, why is pizza in Japan so good? What’s the secret?

Going back to my entry conversation, I once asked Japanese chefs who trained in Italy the same question. They told me that after returning to Japan, their goal was to replicate the Neapolitan style as closely as possible. They sourced the best imported ingredients and followed every detail they learned abroad. But something was different. "Even if you use the same imported products," one chef explained, "there’s something unique about the water and flour in Japan. It’s subtle, but it changes everything."

In Japan, the water is softer than in Italy, and this seemingly small detail plays a significant role in how pizza is made. A study analyzing tap water from 665 locations across Japan revealed that the average hardness* was 48.9 mg/L, with a median of 46.0 mg/L. This softness influences how ingredients interact, and once Japanese chefs recognized this, it transformed their approach to pizza-making.

*The hardness of water, measured at mg/L(milligrams per liter), refers to the concentration of dissolved minerals, primarily calcium (Ca²⁺) and magnesium (Mg²⁺) ions.

In Italy, it makes perfect sense to use tipo 00 flour with their water which is hard type. Its fine texture and high protein content (typically 12%-13%) create perfect harmony with the mineral-rich water found in Naples or Rome. But in Japan, replicating that same result isn’t straightforward.

To understand why, it’s essential to look at how flour is categorized. Unlike the U.S., where flour is classified by protein content, Italians use the grind level. Tipo 2 is the coarsest, while tipo 00 is the finest, almost powder-like. There’s a misconception that 00 flour is low in protein. In reality, its strength lies in its ability to create highly elastic dough that bakes into a delicate, crisp crust—perfect for Neapolitan-style pizzas.

One of 00 flour distinguishing traits is its water absorption. Its superfine texture absorbs water more efficiently, meaning dough made with 00 flour typically requires less water. This contributes to a crisper crust when baked at the high temperatures traditional to wood-fired ovens. However, in Japan’s soft water environment, tipo 00 doesn’t behave the same way. The dough can turn out overly soft or sticky, and achieving the right balance becomes a challenge. Some chefs initially tried to replicate the Italian method exactly, but as they experimented, found new ways and adapted to the local water and other flour resources.

The type of wheat grown in Japan is primarily soft wheat, which produces weaker flour compared to the hard wheat used in traditional Italian pizza dough. When making pizza at home with supermarket flour, most people in Japan rely on strong flour imported from the United States or sourced domestically. This accounts for about 10% of the flour market in Japan.

For those blending flours at home, weak flour—often imported from the U.S., Australia or Canada—is commonly used. Some domestic varieties of weak flour are also available. However, when it comes to professional kitchens, many Italian and specialty pizza restaurants prefer flour from Caputo, a renowned flour manufacturer based in Naples. Caputo’s flour is notable for its unique blends of hard and soft wheat, tailored to the specific dish being made—whether it’s pizza, pasta, or bread. This selection and slow milling process results in high-quality flour that has become a staple in many of Japan’s best pizzerias. Caputo's flour is highly regarded by pizza artisans, and many specialty shops rely on it to recreate authentic Neapolitan-style pizza. Nowadays, Hokkaido is also producing flour for pizza in collaboration with national association for agriculture there.

However, flour is just one part of the equation. Japan’s unique climate and seasonal changes play a crucial role in shaping the final product. The country’s high humidity and fluctuating temperatures greatly impact fermentation, requiring chefs to meticulously track variables such as:

Room temperature
Humidity levels
Flour and water temperature
Salt and yeast quantities

By recording this data throughout the year, chefs can adjust their methods and ensure consistent dough quality regardless of the season.

As chef Otsubo from ‘Pizzeria Il Tamburrello’ explains, even the time of day affects the texture and taste of the pizza. Dough fermented the previous day continues to evolve until it’s used the next evening. This "older dough" bakes into a crisp, light crust, making it ideal for evening diners who pair their pizza with wine. In contrast, dough prepared for lunchtime (around 24 hours old) retains more sugar, resulting in a denser, more filling pizza—perfect for a midday meal.

Interestingly, the oven temperature is often higher at night, complementing the characteristics of the older, more fermented dough, which resists burning and crisps up beautifully. This natural rhythm of fermentation and baking means that daytime and nighttime pizzas offer distinct experiences, reflecting the deep connection between craftsmanship, climate, and tradition.

In the pursuit of perfecting pizza, Japanese pizzaioli have embraced these nuances—demonstrating that authenticity isn’t always about imitation but rather about adapting to local conditions while preserving the heart of Italian tradition.

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