The building housing Somushi Korean teahouse on Karasuma Street has a dignified air about it. Perhaps it is the thick roofed mud wall that encircles it or the ornate bronze shutters that adorn the three-story façade, but regardless it seems in tune with the prestige of its proprietors: the famous obi maker Kondaya Genbey, established in the 1700s. The teahouse was created by renovating the first floor.

With the interior hidden from view, I step in through the imposing double doors, intrigued as to what I may find inside. The café is surprisingly spacious. The large, translucent, pojagi patchwork cloth suspended from the ceiling before me serves to separate a platformed area where guests—with shoes removed—dine at low wooden tables, from the floored area. Just beyond, is an extensive counter facing the preparation area — a space that has been dug out just deep enough that the staff standing and guests sitting on zabuton before them meet eye-to-eye. Behind the staff, stands a wall lined with shelves of teaware which somewhat work like a frame, giving structure to the scene. Narrow doorways lead off into intimate, low-lit dining rooms, and a small courtyard. Here and there are dainty ceramic pieces on display with the white slip typical of Korean wares, some medicinal herbs and delicate lights made from the flowers of dried Chinese lantern plants on sale. The whole venue is permeated with a neutral, earth-colored palette, with the natural materials, from the straw-embedded walls to the kakishibu-dyed cushions, lending rich textures and scents.

A petite lady gracefully crosses the room to greet me: Yeonkyung Yamaguchi, owner of Somushi and wife of Yamaguchi Genbei, 10th generation owner of Kondaya Genbey. Sipping on a delightful infusion of Korean ginseng and jujube, I sit down with Yamaguchi to hear the story behind the first Korean teahouse in Kyoto, which remains the only one of its kind in the city and has been a favorite of Kyoto Journal’s over the years.