We had a date at 12.00pm sharp today, and we couldn't be late.

Our date was for lunch at a restaurant that's nameless to us as we can't read Japanese. It's tucked away down the thin alleyway of Nishiki Market, the warren of fruit, veg, fish and sundries that the locals affectionately call 'Kyoto's pantry'.

All I know is that it's foodie heaven.

The restaurant sits on upstairs on the first floor of a building that's squeezed shoulder-to-shoulder with its market neighbours. The ground floor's given over to the most enticing display of vegetables and herbs that I've seen here. Fat, lustrous eggplants glow like purple embers, and there are blood-red carrots, which turn sugar-sweet when cooked, heaped in vast, knobbly middens.

Taking off our shoes at the back of the shop, we padded up the polished wood stairs in our socks. The next level was kitted out in shades of palest dove grey (walls) and seagrass matting (floors). Small rooms all abut one other, every one containing a few low tables and cushion-style floor-chairs. Ladies with ramrod straight backs were lunching in kimono, careful not to crush the impressively boxy back fastenings on their gowns.

The set kaiseki (tasting) menu we ordered was purely vegetarian. It was sublime in its attention to detail, but some of the dishes were quite challenging for the western palate. One in particular almost stumped me. It was the exact consistency of mucus.

I don't say that to be writerly, or because I think it's a good analogy.

It. Just. Was. The. Consistency. Of. Mucus.

Totally clear … very sticky-stringy … and with that gooey-not-quite-saliva quality that watery, runny nose mucus possesses, this stuff had me flummoxed.

Every time I mentally registered the idea of mucous, my stomach gave a queasy little flip and begged me to stop. There is nothing quite like the feeling of your stomach literally shifting within you like a dying oyster for making eating difficult, but I was determined to get that dish down. To tell the truth, I was somewhat annoyed that such a mild-flavoured food was giving me so much grief, but it proved a good illustration of how intensely texture affects taste sensation!

The rest of the meal was merely tasty, rather than a battle with my stomach. Our desserts of arrowroot jellies rolled in pulverised nuts and a green-tea filled 'mochi' (sticky, rice-based sweets) were scrummy.