“I think the idea of using wood in large structures may globally impact architecture,” he said.　The two new designs, which are apparently Japanese in origin, are simply called A and B. But the companies involved remain a secret.　Japanese media reports say the designs were submitted by a joint venture involving Taisei Corp., and a another venture comprising Takenaka Corp., Shimizu Corp. and Obayashi Corp. This could not be confirmed.　Moriyama noted both designs take into account the natural environment of their surroundings, which are protected by the urban development law, but in different ways.　Design A features outside walls embellished with plants in multiple layers, while B is notable in that it dispenses with walls around its oval outline, which is formed by 72 wooden pillars.　“Personally I like design B because it allows people to enjoy walking around the facility or gather,” Moriyama said. “I like it also because it carries over the atmosphere of the old National Stadium.”　Once bitten, twice shy, the government-affiliated sports body, nervous after embarrassing revelations highlighted the sloppy handling of the preparatory work for the world’s biggest sporting event, took the unusual step of disclosing the new design proposals, which are still under screening.　The design tender was opened in September and closed on Nov. 16, with the two entrants responding.　The two proposals will undergo screening by an expert panel and checks by relevant Cabinet ministers, with the final selection to be made by the end of the year.　Earlier this year, the giant, ill-fated design of British-based architect Zaha Hadid was rejected amid the mounting public outcry over snowballing costs and its futuristic appearance, which critics said was too loud for the nature-protected Yoyogi area.　The project also lacked detailed explanations about the selection process.　After probing the selection process, a government-appointed independent investigative panel concluded in September that neither the education ministry nor JSC had the ability to lead the construction project. Education minister Hakubun Shimomura subsequently stepped down.

As the clamor grew over the stadium’s astronomical construction costs, Prime Minister Shinzo Abe axed Hadid’s design in July to restart the process.　The British-Iraqi architect’s futuristic design, characterized by two arches supporting a roof resembling a cycling helmet, won the competition in 2012 and had an initial estimated cost of ¥130 billion.　The projected size was scaled down in 2014 after the estimate more than doubled to ¥300 billion, but after the new estimate of ¥163 billion was again inflated to ¥252 billion in 2015, her design was rejected.　Construction of the new stadium was originally planned to start this fall for completion in spring 2019.

The winning design received 610 points. The other design, identified previously as design B which turned out Friday to have been put forward by a venture comprised of architect Toyo Ito and construction firms Takenaka Corp., Shimizu Corp. and Obayashi Corp., lost with 602 points. Tipping the balance was the estimated construction time. While both teams projected that construction would be done by November 2019, design A received 177 points in this category, but design B got only 150.

Architect and critic Takashi Moriyama said the 27-point difference could be attributed to the panel taking a cautious stance so as to avoid making the same mistake as was made in July. “Design B proposed an unprecedented method for construction (to shorten the building period) by using new materials to build the stadium, whereas design A proposed using a more orthodox method that is familiar to everyone … I believe the judges assessed design A as being less risky,” Moriyama said. The design proposed by Hadid became the center of public criticism due to its futuristic but grandiose design that many thought did not fit in with the greenery-rich Meiji Jingu Gaien park area. Because of difficulties realizing Hadid’s design, which featured two keel arches supporting a striking roof that was said to resemble the shape of a cyclist’s helmet, construction costs were estimated at up to ¥252 billion — almost double the ¥130 billion estimate when the plan was adopted by the JSC in the wake of an international design competition held in 2012. Moriyama said the simplistic design of the winning proposal, which will have trees and shrubbery both inside the building and around it, is a good match in a landscape that for decades has been known for the several sporting facilities that crowd the area, unlike Hadid’s futuristic design that some thought would clash with existing structures. “We feel buildings constructed with cold metallic plates and with a concrete surface to be less luxurious, no matter what the construction cost,” Moriyama said, adding that the new stadium should be embraced more warmly by Tokyo residents. In a statement last week, Hadid’s office condemned the government’s decision to replace the existing design team with entirely new firms. “There are now serious risks of a rushed process, with no certainty on the likely construction cost of the stadium, and that it may not be ready in time or deliver a significant sporting legacy without expensive conversion after the 2020 Games,” a spokesman for Zaha Hadid Architects said.

Recognizing there was demand, Japanese bakers launched one sweet, sugary concoction after another, from an pan (bean-paste-filled bread) to creamy muffins and cupcake-like delights. On the savory end, they stocked their shelves with curry-filled bread, mayonnaise heavy sandwiches and the all-important katsu sandwich (a deep-fried breaded pork cutlet served between two thick slices of bread), which to overseas visitors must come off as overkill, an incomprehensible lump of grease and carbs.

For the Japanese, bread was, and still is, loaded with historical significance. Just after World War II, it was a symbol of the American Occupation and a poor substitute for white rice. The occupation authorities distributed cheap factory bread and powdered milk, which were often served for lunch in Japanese schools and by all accounts tasted horrible. It wasn’t until the late 1970s that the Japanese learned to embrace bread as a main staple, and another 20 years before “real” bread, handmade by bakers in genuine ovens, began adorning tables nationwide. Now the baguette is ubiquitous and its fortunes have turned. Celebrity French chefs Paul Bocuse and Joel Robuchon both run licensed bakeries here and many consumers head straight to the baguette basket. A few will even hold lively conversations with the salesperson to decide on what wine and cheese will go best with their baguette. Japanese breadmakers often rank among the best the world (a case in point is Yuki Nagata of Kobeya, who won first prize at the Bakery Masters competition in 2014) and artisanal bakeries have sprung up in every city. Some are so iconic, it’s hard to tell whether they’re licensed European or homegrown bakeries. A case in point is Maison Kayser, the Japanese version of the Parisian bakery owned by Eric Kayser. The CEO is Shuichiro Kimura, son and heir of Ginza Kimuraya — the creator of the an pan and Japan’s most famous bakery. Since the company launch in 2000, Maison Kayser has worked hard to change the Japanese and their perception of the baguette and other hard breads. For example, they collaborated with Snow Brand Milk Products to develop good butter for bread and set up tasting tables so customers could experience the joy of eating hardier offerings. Kimura studied in France under Eric Kayser and his methods are strictly French — such as using only natural yeasts — a clear departure from his family’s way of doing business. Last year, on the TV program “Sekai Banzuke,” Maison Kayser was voted the No. 1 bakery by non-Japanese in Japan. Maison Kayser is by no means alone. Two words describe the current Japanese bread scene: “natural” and “yeast.” Perhaps another word should also be added: “inaccessible.” The three words describe Backstube Zopf in Matsudo City, which is located 40 minutes by train from inner city Tokyo. Stocking more than 400 varieties of bread and pastries in every imaginable shape and form, Zopf has become a pilgrimage spot for bread-enthusiasts, and dining at the eat-in cafe has become a coveted experience that requires a reservation in advance. It’s also famed for its long lines that start at around 6 a.m. “I came last month and had to wait over two hours before I could set foot in the store,” said one natural yeast enthusiast, Mitsuko Nakashima, who traveled from Kanagawa Prefecture on the morning’s first train. “I’m hoping this time I can get in after 90 minutes.” Nakashima said that her relationship with bread began 15 years ago when she tried upscale department-store bread, but she has now become a real bread epicurean who insists on natural yeast and GMO-free wheat. “Zopf uses the best ingredients and the aroma in the store is incredible,” she says. “It’s worth the wait, though maybe two hours is pushing it.”

Visitors to the petite shop can now watch each step of the coffee-making process. Sacks of green beans stacked on shelves in the back make their way to a glistening Fuji Royal roaster up front, then get bagged on a counter or prepared as drinks using a handsome La Marzocco espresso machine. In the rear is a wall mount for the bicycle that Hiroyuki rides to work every day from his home in nearby Nogata. “Everything flows really smoothly this way,” says Hiroyuki, explaining that the cafe’s redesign has brought an added perk: he no longer has to get all his roasting done before the shop opens in the morning. Despite Koenji’s increasingly hip reputation, Amp has yet to face any serious competition from rival specialty coffee shops. But the neighborhood has other attractions, too. As Hiroyuki observes, with a note of relief: “There’s no Starbucks, either.” 2-20-13 Koenji-Minami, Suginami-ku, Tokyo; 03-5929-9587; open 12 p.m.-8 p.m. (Sun & hols 11 a.m.-7 p.m.); closed Wed; nearest station Shin-Koenji. For more information, visit www.coffee-amp.com.