The Wagyu of Kazuhiro Nagayama.

Kazuhiro Nagayama raises 260 cows in southern Kyushu. He is the third in a lineage that began with Tadao, his grandfather, in 1937 — just before the archipelago closed its genetic borders. His Wagyu are fed fermented hay, brushed, and sold to Tokyo chefs even before leaving the farm. One of the last available kilos each year ends up in our refrigerators in Paris.

FROM KAGOSHIMA TO PARIS

We met Kazuhiro on a March morning. A fine rain fell on the Soo hills, in the far south of Japan, where Sakurajima volcano peacefully smoked on the horizon. His farm is small — four low buildings, a hay barn, an office smelling of stale tobacco. Behind the door, 260 heads of Kuroge Washu, the breed that makes Japanese Wagyu famous.

"My grandfather Tadao bought six cows in 1937," he recounted, serving us a bitter green tea. "At the time, everyone grew rice. No one wanted to bother with cattle." Today, most of Nagayama farm's meat rolls go to Tokyo's three-star restaurants. The leftovers — a few noble cuts, a batch of sirloins — cross the Pacific, then the Atlantic, and land in our Parisian cold room.

Nine thousand seven hundred kilometers. One hundred and sixty hours of temperature-controlled transport. One beef, three continents.

THE A5 RATING IS NOT A COMPLIMENT

In Japan, each carcass is graded by the Japan Meat Grading Association, an independent institution that sends its experts directly to the slaughterhouses. The verdict is displayed in two characters: a letter and a number. A5, B4, C3. All supermarket articles sell "A5 Wagyu" as if it were an award. For Kazuhiro, it's simply a minimum.

The letter refers to the yield: how much usable meat is obtained from a carcass. A means more than 72%, nothing more. The number refers to quality. It retains the lowest of the four scores for marbling, meat color, fat color, and firmness. If even one criterion falls below the threshold, the entire animal drops a notch.

The true indicator, the one an informed buyer always asks for, is the BMS — Beef Marbling Standard. A scale from 1 to 12. An A5 can be BMS 8 or BMS 12; the difference, in taste, is triple. Kazuhiro, for his part, refuses to sell below BMS 10. "If it's below that, it means I failed in my raising."

ONE BEEF, FOUR CANDIDATES

To understand what makes an A5 Wagyu special, you have to compare it to what you find elsewhere. An American Black Angus is excellent beef. A French Charolais is an institution. But neither plays in the same league.

IN THE PAN

The pitfall, when you receive your first piece of Wagyu, is wanting to treat it like a French steak. High heat, scorching pan, olive oil, coarse salt. And there, everything breaks down. The fat melts too quickly, burns, the meat fibers, you end up with a heavy, long-lasting bite.

Kazuhiro has a simple rule: "Treat it like fatty fish." Not like beef. This means: thin slices, short cooking time, neutral fat, seasoning at the end. And most importantly, reduced portions. 80 to 100 grams per person. No more.

Here's his method, the same one he cooks at home on Sundays.

1. Bring to room temperature for 25 minutes before cooking. Intramuscular fat only begins to melt at 25 °C.
2. Cast iron pan, dry, heated over high heat. Test with a drop of water that bounces without smoking.
3. A knob of gyu-abura (Wagyu tallow), nothing else.
4. 45 seconds per side. Not one more. Medium-rare, warm center.
5. Rest 2 minutes on a rack. Maldon salt at the last moment. Fresh wasabi on the side, never on top.

And with a drink? Forget powerful Bordeaux, the tannins will overpower the delicacy. Prefer a Pinot Noir from the Côte de Nuits, a crisp Chablis Grand Cru, or a fresh junmai daiginjo sake. If you want to be adventurous, a few drops of black kurozu vinegar on the last bite — it reinvigorates everything.

In the shop

Wagyu A5 Sirloin — Kagoshima

BMS 11 · Whole piece 600 g · JLIA certified origin

€249

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