Chef Kazuhisa Okazaki — The Craftsman Who Became Family in Japan

On Pâtisserie Troyes, friendship, generosity, and the kind of craftsmanship that makes me question my own work.

I first visited Pâtisserie Troyes in July 2016.

At that time, Chef Kazuhisa Okazaki was someone I had come to know through Facebook. I did not expect that a simple online friendship would slowly grow into something so close — the kind of friendship where we could drink together, laugh together, share stories, and eventually feel like family.

Pâtisserie Troyes is in Ibaraki, Osaka.

In the kitchen, it is Chef Okazaki.
At the front of house, it is his wife.

From the outside, it may seem like a small pâtisserie run by two people. But once I stepped inside, I was surprised by how complete the shop felt.

There were petits gâteaux and entremets, travel cakes, scones, viennoiseries, and beautifully prepared gift boxes of small bakes — cookies, madeleines, financiers, and other treats made to be taken home, gifted, and shared. It had many of the classic things a proper pâtisserie should have.

Everything was refined, detailed, and made with care. From the cakes to the baked goods, each item had its own finishing, its own balance, and its own small details.

Later, when I realised that almost everything was produced by Chef Okazaki himself, I kept asking myself:

How does one person do all of this?
And if one day I had to do the same, would I still have that same passion?

That question has followed me for many years.

In June 2017, the year after my first visit to Pâtisserie Troyes, we invited Chef Okazaki to Croisserie for an in-house pastry masterclass.

I still remember feeling very honoured. One year earlier, I was visiting him in Japan. Now, he was standing in our own kitchen, sharing his products, methods, and way of working with our team.

The class was filled with laughter, but also with focus.

Chef Okazaki can be very warm and funny as a friend. But when he works, he becomes very serious. He does not make excuses. He does not waste movement. He simply does what needs to be done until the product is right.

I also owed a lot to Chef Yukichi Matsubara, who helped us as translator during the session. Because of him, our team was able to understand Chef Okazaki’s thinking more clearly — not only the recipe, but the intention behind each step.

In November 2018, Chef Okazaki returned to Croisserie for a four-day pastry masterclass.

Across the 2017 and 2018 masterclasses, he shared a wide range of products and techniques from his own shop. There were assorted travel cakes and goûters — madeleines, financiers, florentines, sablés, and galette bretonne. He also demonstrated several pâtisserie creations in both petits gâteaux and entremets formats, including Mont Blanc, Le Valencia, and Le Vegas, one of his signature cakes, as well as his glaçage miroir technique.

Le Valencia left a strong impression on me.

Just like its orange colour, the flavour felt bright, joyful, and energetic. It reminded me of Chef Okazaki himself — generous, enthusiastic, creative, and full of life whenever he speaks about the work he loves.

But among all the products, the madeleines and financiers were especially meaningful to me.

They were products I had specifically requested Chef Okazaki to teach, because I had always wanted to understand them properly. I had even ordered Chiyoda moulds specially for that class.

The simpler something looks, the harder it is to control.

That was what I felt then, and I still feel the same today. A madeleine or financier may look simple, but when every detail matters — the batter, the resting, the mould, the baking, the colour, the texture, and the release — there is nowhere to hide.

During one of those visits, Chef Okazaki also presented me with a chef jacket embroidered with my name.

It was a simple gesture, but it meant a lot to me.

A chef jacket is not just clothing. It carries trust, recognition, and responsibility. Receiving it from him made me feel that this friendship had moved beyond a normal chef-to-chef connection.

He had become someone important in my life.

Someone I respect as a craftsman.
Someone I can laugh with as a friend.
Someone who makes Japan feel a little more like home.

In March 2019, I visited Pâtisserie Troyes again.

Chef Okazaki was still there, working with the same energy, producing everything with his wife by his side. The shop was still filled with choices, details, and his personality.

Some people may wonder whether passion can still burn brightly after many years of doing the same thing every day.

For me, I have seen the answer in Chef Okazaki.

At Pâtisserie Troyes, he starts his daily routine around 5am and finishes around 9pm. He produces everything himself, from scratch, in-house.

There is a kind of madness in that.

But maybe it is the beautiful kind of madness that only people who truly love their craft can understand.

When I see Chef Okazaki work, I do not only see technique. I see happiness. I see energy. I see someone who has repeated the same rhythm for many years and still finds meaning in it.

That is not easy.

In February 2023, I visited Pâtisserie Troyes again.

By then, the feeling was different. It no longer felt like visiting a chef overseas. It felt almost like returning to see a relative.

As always, Chef Okazaki treated us with so much warmth and generosity. Every time we visit, he lets us choose anything we want to try from the showcase, then often sends us home with beautifully prepared gift boxes to share.

That time, he wanted me to stay for dinner.

But I had not told him in advance because I wanted to surprise him. Since I arrived without proper arrangement, I did not want to disturb his schedule or take up too much of his time.

Before I left, he gave me 20,000 yen for dinner.

I felt embarrassed.
I felt guilty.
But more than anything, I felt deeply touched.

It was not about the money.

It was his way of taking care of someone.

That kind of generosity is difficult to explain, but easy to remember.

In June 2025, I visited Pâtisserie Troyes again.

By then, it was no longer a place I was discovering. It had become part of my own map of Japan — a place I return to whenever I can, not only for the pastries, but for the person behind them.

Every visit brings me back to the same question.

If one day I had to carry everything by myself, would I still be able to do it with this much energy?

Would I still care about every product?

Would I still wake up early, work until night, and continue to make things properly without losing the love for it?

I do not know the answer yet.

But each visit to Pâtisserie Troyes reminds me that craft is not only about skill. It is also about attitude, stamina, generosity, and how much of yourself you are willing to give to the work and to the people around you.

Chef Kazuhisa Okazaki is the craftsman behind Pâtisserie Troyes.

But to me, he is also the friend who welcomed me into his world, the chef who showed me what daily commitment looks like, and the person in Japan who made every visit feel like coming home.