The Basque country has long led the way in vanguard gastronomy. As a committed gastrosleuth, it was thrilling to experience Txispa, the still-under-the-radar culinary spot that won a Michelin star in its first year. 

It’s a profoundly creative, cross-cultural dining experience, where chef Tetsuro Maeda brings his knowledge of Japanese technique and sensibility to Spanish produce in the deepest Basque country. The 18th-century stone farmhouse in Axpe, which is home to Maeda’s restaurant, only serves a lunchtime dégustation menu at 1.30pm, and it is close to 6.30pm when I rise from the table. I’ve experienced a meal that I don’t want to end, interspersed with Maeda’s poetic explanations to the assembled six tables.

When I later tell Maeda I feel energised rather than satiated by the experience, he laughs. ‘That’s the txispa, the spark I talk about. I want diners to have the sensation of feeling as fresh as I feel when I am walking in the local mountains.’ 

Each course is delicate and concise, dazzling in freshness and originality, and in the way they are touched by the robust flavours of the dramatic asador, or Basque grill, created bespoke to Maeda’s requirements and terrifyingly hot. If the name of the small village Axpe is familiar, that’s because it is also home to the fabled Asador Etxebarri where Maeda first became a chef – only 11 years ago – and quickly impressed its owner, chef Bittor Arguinzoniz, enough to be entrusted with running a section of the asador. 

They remain friends and even trade produce with each other. Maeda recalls affectionately: ‘I took over a whole wheelbarrow of lágrima peas.’ (These tiny “tear peas” are only grown in an area of five hectares north of Guipúzcoa and can cost up to €200 a kilo. Crunchy and delicate, they pop in the mouth like green caviar.) Obsessive about using the freshest-possible produce, Maeda brought in Japanese agronomist Kazuki Sato to recover and cultivate a vegetable garden. Even before the restaurant opened, its crops include shiso and mizuna, as well as Basque peppers and corn. 

As Maeda shows off his kitchen garden with a magnificent backdrop of mountains and lush forests, he explains that the concept behind his cuisine stems from ‘wondering how a Japanese chef would have cooked if he had arrived at the farmhouse 300 years ago’. It is such a curious, delightful approach. He chuckles as he answers: ‘He would cook with Japanese techniques using the ingredients found here.’ 

In Maeda’s kitchen, koji (cooked rice that has been inoculated with a fermentation culture) and sake are made with bomba rice from Valencia; miso from green beans, tofu from chickpeas and 95 per cent of the hyper-seasonal produce is from the garden, hand-harvested moments before service. 

Inside, Txispa is all timber-beamed ceilings, stone walls and polished concrete, with modern seating, contemporary glassware and fine Japanese tableware. Most striking of all is the wide-arched doorway, once used for animals, which frames the dramatic landscape that informs the menu.

The meal starts convivially and intimately in the kitchen, where Maeda serves snacks. He is charming, a consummate storyteller, his playful cleverness never pretentious, but always elegant.

The aperitifs include “takoqueta”, a bicultural cross between takoyaki (a popular Japanese street food consisting of small balls of batter filled with diced octopus) and Spanish croquetas. 

“Basque sushi”, a rolled Cantabrian salt-cured anchovy Maeda says he has cleaned and filleted himself, is served with a little house-made smoked butter and Japanese daikon radish shoots rolled inside, each morsel precise and personal. It’s almost impossible to pick favourites, though the tear-pea-covered, silky chawanmushi (a delicate, steamed Japanese savoury custard) is ravishing. 

Drinks pairings mix Basque txakoli (a slightly sparkling and very dry Basque wine) and Japanese sake with the occasional French bottle courtesy of sommelier Gabriel Herberg, formerly at London’s Noble Rot, add to a dining experience that’s both stimulating and refreshing. Guests return to the kitchen to admire how Maeda handles fat and fire while cooking the chuleton (a massive Galician beef cut, cooked over wood fire and carved off the bone), which seems to develop more complexity with each fine mouthful. Then, there’s a sublime custard flan for dessert, infused with jasmine tea and salt-preserved cherry blossom. Pure poetry. 

Chefs including Merlin Labron-Johnson of Osip in Bruton, Somerset; Hélène Darroze of The Connaught; and Rasmus Munk of Alchemist have all visited, though I wager none have yet experienced Maeda’s latest addition: Friday and Saturday evening Basque yakitori, comprising skewers and chopsticks with every part of the chicken, cooked over charcoal and served with a sweet and sour soy glaze; house-made umeboshi (tangy, salt-pickled plums); pimentón chorizo; leek and teriyaki sauce; pepper kimchi; and chicken-liver relish with sake, soy sauce and ginger. 

‘I want to speak a new language,’ Maeda says. I’m happy to offer translations. 

Lunch, €275; yakitori Friday/Saturday evening, €75; txispa.com