Our Story
Not a group. A family, and a story that carries on.
In 1981, my father, Shinsaku Sukeno, opened a small counter on rue des Ciseaux. No sign, no fanfare. Fish, a knife, and the stubborn idea of serving Paris the food of his country exactly as it is lived back home — softening nothing to please anyone.
I grew up behind that counter. I learned the craft before I learned the words: rigour, patience, respect for the product. What the Japanese call shokunin: the artisan who repeats the same movement his whole life, coming a little closer to it, a little truer, each day.
That counter never went dark. Today we are picking up the thread, as a family, and other houses are opening around it. Each has its own face, its own cooking, its own hour. All hold to the same standard: the product first, precision always, and the kind of welcome you'd get in our own home. We gather them under a single name: Kobo.
Our ambition is not complicated: to carry on what my father planted, and to share the true taste of Japan with Paris — no frills, no needless décor. We follow no trends. We are after the exact opposite: places that last.
The dream fits in one sentence. That one day, people will bring their children to the places their parents once brought them. That a regular will push open the door and simply say: “I was coming here long before.” That day, we'll know we got it right.
A family, and houses where you come to eat — and come back to remember.
The Family, Year by Year
Shinsaku Sukeno opens the founding house on rue des Ciseaux. No sign above the door.
A few steps from Tsukizi, the family's izakaya. Shin, after the father's first name.
The flagship, near Place Vendôme. Sushi, izakaya, cocktails and an omakase counter. Saku, the second half of his name.
Italian cooking, Japanese hands. Rue Dauphine, opening in September.
The gyoza bar. The next chapter is being written.
The next chapter is written at the table.
Come live it from the dining room, or write it with us from the kitchen.