It’s easy to chuckle at the social media hyperbole of inbound travelers singing the praises of Japan’s gourmet konbini (convenience store) finds. The fact is — they're not wrong.
In stark contrast to what is available in equivalent establishments around the world, the quality found in a Japanese konbini is astounding, especially for budget-conscious shoppers. But all vacations eventually must end — what then is a konbini addict to do upon returning to their home country, with its subpar grab-and-go food options?
For anyone who has ever wanted to re-create konbini favorites like karaage-kun chicken to the steamed piza man (pizza bun), your dreams have been answered with “Konbini: Cult Recipes, Stories and Adventures from Japan’s Iconic Convenience Stores” (Smith Street Books, October 2024) by Brendan Liew and Caryn Ng.
Liew and Ng detail recipes for not only your favorite onigiri (rice balls) but also larger meals in the form of prepared sōzai dishes, such as braised pork belly, sanma kabayaki (butterflied saury) and regional Hokkaido dishes like creamy white stew. From the bakery, “Konbini” covers stuffed-to-the brim wanpaku sandwiches and brioche maritozzo, including breadmaking directions for each, as well as a range of sweets from daigaku imo (candied sweet potatoes) to the ever-popular purin (puddings).
Convenience stores are inexorably linked to the modern Japanese way of life, and sales to foreign conglomerates notwithstanding, the country would not be the same without them. “Konbini” co-author and chef Liew even goes so far as to say that these stores are “a perfect microcosm of what makes Japan and Japanese cooking so singular.”
“The impeccable perfection of the display; the sheer variety of intriguing and exotic-looking products — it's all so intrinsically Japanese,” adds Ng.
Based in Australia, the Singaporean Liew, 39, and Malaysia-born Ng, 38, have been visiting Japan for more than a decade. It was during these trips that the country became something of a muse.
“This book is an ode to all who live outside Japan and miss konbini, and (it’s) a welcome to those who have yet to step inside this ʻB-gourmetʼ wonderland of legendary repute,” says Ng, referring to the Japanese term for cheap and casual yet delicious fare.
Far from a simple collection of recipes, Liew and Ng spoke to executives and tastemakers at the Lawson convenience store chain for insider perspectives on the science behind the konbini method, a lot of which is based on the seasons. In February, for example, you'll find uncut ehōmaki sushi rolls on the shelves for Setsubun celebrations. Traditionally, these rolls would have been homemade, but due to busy schedules people no longer have the time — and that’s where the konbini steps in.
As the year progresses and spring rolls around, you’ll find everything from cherry leaf-wrapped sakura-mochi to perfumed pink KitKats. “Konbini” notes that Lawson divides Japan into eight areas from Hokkaido down to Kyushu, and every Tuesday 100 new items are released based on both seasonal and regional divides — operations carried out by a conspicuously small team.
“For such a mighty task, only two (Lawson) staff develop the bread products nationally, with four to five overseeing desserts,” Liew and Ng write. “Almost every store you visit will have some sort of gentei limited offering — perhaps a local specialty, or featuring a fruit that has just burst into season.”
The pair’s third book on Japanese culinary culture, “Konbini” shows how their passion has not wavered. Starting in 2018 with “Tokyo Local” (which was updated, reprinted and renamed “A Day in Tokyo” earlier this year), this cookbook-cum-city guide of what many consider the world’s culinary capital was followed in 2022 by “Tokyo Up Late,” a collection of neon-lit, late-night eats for when you should be in bed but the city won’t let you find your futon.
Now based at Melbourne’s Warabi, Liew has the impeccable culinary credentials of someone who might look down on konbini fare. Having worked in the hallowed three-Michelin-starred kitchen of Nihonryori Ryugin in both Tokyo and Hong Kong, he knows high-end kappō cuisine. His preceding books focused on more restaurant-style dishes, including the quick and easy makanai (staff meal) to ramen created from the ground up. Ng works as a restaurant publicist when she isn’t traveling or writing.
So why spend so much time obsessing over the least labor-intensive bites available in Japan?
“Here we hone in on items you can find in the aisles, shelves and freezer sections,” Ng explains. “These are dishes both nostalgic and simple, easily put together for weeknight meals — but with techniques and tips from a chef with a Japanese culinary background.”
In 2016, Liew and Ng opened Chotto, a pop-up Japanese restaurant in Melbourne with a mission to bring traditional ryokan inn-style breakfasts to the city while incorporating bountiful Australian seafood and produce. But it was a trip to Yunushi Ichijoh Ryokan in historic Kamasaki Onsen, Miyagi Prefecture, that was the inspiration for their latest book about convenience stores.
The onsen (hot spring) town is a distance from any major urban center, and towns like these tend to have small populations. That means supermarkets won’t set up shop in them, and convenience stores acting as lifelines for the communities. Outside of large urban centers, convenience stores are indispensable in smaller, depopulating communities. For lack of customers, supermarkets won’t set up shop, and the general stores and grocers of bygone eras have long since shuttered their doors.
“We found it intriguing that the first thing the ryokan attendant mentioned was the absence of a konbini — a sign, perhaps, of how entrenched in Japanese culture the convenience store has become,” notes Ng.
This year, 7-Eleven celebrated its 50th anniversary since opening its first store in Tokyo’s Koto Ward, but Ng and Liew make the case that it was only after some slow initial years and a pivot toward Japanese palates that the business eventually boomed.
“(After opening in 1974), it wasnʼt until five years later, when 7-Eleven began introducing onigiri instead of serving hot dogs, that the konbini would come to be looked at more favorably,” they write in the book. “Everyoneʼs favorite Heian Era (794-1185) rice ball would prove to be the tide-turner.”
The trick was to listen to customers and give them what they wanted at any hour of the day or night they wanted it — from sweet to salty, morning pick-me-up to pre-bed nightcap.
“These konbini favorites are the dishes that sustain Japan,” says Liew.
Just like any good konbini, the book is sleekly laid out with plenty of white space. Where many Japanese cookbooks can be daunting in their Zen-like simplicity and intricate knife skills, the recipes in “Konbini” are genuinely achievable and, dare I say, convenient.
We can’t all re-create rarefied omakase (chef’s choice) course menus for friends and family, but we sure can share an authentic slice of everyday life in Japan.
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