From Postwar Hunger to Global Luxury: The Unlikely Rise of the World’s Most Expensive Rice

By_Suraj Karowa/ ANW.  November 5, 2025

TOKYO — In a sleek Tokyo office, 91-year-old Keiji Saika cradles a black box etched in gold with the proclamation “World’s Best Rice.” It’s not hyperbole.

Inside lies Kinmemai Premium, a blend of elite Japanese grains certified by Guinness World Records in 2016 as the planet’s priciest rice—fetching up to $109 per kilogram at launch.

Today, a single 840-gram box retails for 10,800 yen ($73.40), with just 1,000 produced annually. They vanish within hours of release.
Saika, president of Toyo Rice Corporation, isn’t chasing profits.

“Honestly, when you calculate the costs, we’re probably running at a loss,” he admits in a rare interview. This isn’t a cash cow; it’s a crusade.

Only 1,000 boxes produced each year:

Born from the ashes of World War II starvation, Kinmemai Premium symbolizes Japan’s quest to elevate its sacred staple from humble fields to international icons.

At a time when rice exports lag behind sushi’s global swagger, Saika’s “World’s Best Rice” project is a defiant bid to spotlight quality over quantity—and perhaps save a fading farming tradition.

Rice isn’t just food in Japan; it’s soul. Cultivated for 3,000 years, it underpins everything from sushi to sake. Over 300 varieties thrive nationwide, but exports? They’ve sputtered. Saika, a Wakayama-based innovator who sells milling machines alongside his prized Kinmemai (“Golden Sprout Rice”), grew impatient.

Why doesn’t it make money?

In 2016, eyeing Guinness as a budget-friendly megaphone, he unveiled Kinmemai Premium. Skeptics abounded—typical rice hovered at 300-400 yen per kilo—but inquiries surged.

Demand turned a stunt into an annual ritual.
The alchemy behind it is meticulous, bordering on obsessive. Each year, Saika sifts through 5,000 entries from Japan’s International Contest on Rice Taste Evaluation, the nation’s gold standard for flavor and texture.

Winners aren’t just tasty; they’re vital. “That vitality, that life force, can be clearly identified through enzyme activity,” Saika explains. High-enzyme grains signal “truly exceptional” potential.

He selects four to six top-tier varieties— this year’s blend features Koshihikari from Gifu and Nagano, plus Yudai 21 from the same regions—then ages them for months.

The result? Grains that bloom with richer taste and amplified nutrition, polished via Saika’s proprietary mill that strips just nine bran layers instead of 16, locking in essence.

Limited yield jacks up the price, but so does prestige. Selected farmers jet to Tokyo for a glitzy reveal, their harvests splashed across local headlines. “Everyone seems to take great pride in it,” Saika notes. It’s an unintended boon: motivation for producers battered by stagnant prices and soaring costs.

Driven by hunger

“Rice farmers are struggling,” says Hong Kong chef Kenichi Fujimoto, a sushi maestro with two decades under Michelin mentors. “Machines, gas—everything’s up, but rice prices haven’t budged in 30-40 years. If they can’t make a living, young people won’t continue the family business.”

Fujimoto’s verdict? Put to the test in his Sushi Fujimoto kitchen, Kinmemai Premium steamed to translucent perfection in a cast-iron pot.

Rinsed briefly and soaked 30 minutes shy of instructions (he had only 420 grams to spare), it emerged gleaming. “Like a diamond,” he marveled, grains standing pert and aromatic—balanced, not overpowering.

Independent taste tests

A taste: “Well-balanced flavor, nice moisture. This rice will appeal to everyone.” Yet for sushi? A no-go. “It might get mushy with vinegar,” he warns. Better plain, warm in a kaiseki spread. Pricey for his menu, too—“We’d have to triple our prices.”

Echoes come from Chef Nansen Lai, whose Hong Kong spots like Flower Drum and Lai’s Kitchen specialize in clay pot rice. Sampling against his Thai-Koshihikari house blend, Lai found Kinmemai “stickier, less fragrant—but delicious, with a much more complex taste.” His staff nodded approval. “From a restaurateur’s perspective, we can’t afford it. We need firmer rice for sauces. But this? You could eat it plain.”

At Toyo’s in-house sushi spot, head chef Hiroshi Matsumoto recalls his first bite: “One bowl wasn’t enough; I wanted seconds.” He serves it warm in set meals, not nigiri. Saika himself indulges once yearly, tasting the fresh batch—“just a little bit.”

For a better future

This passion traces to 1945. Postwar Japan reeled from Typhoon Makurazaki’s fury, which ravaged Kagoshima’s harvest. Starvation felled even by elites . Saika’s family foraged seeds, snared eels and birds to survive. “Many people died,” he recalls starkly. That hunger forged his vow: better rice for all.

The 1970s brought his rinse-free variety, saving water. Now, Kinmemai Premium caps a lifetime of tweaks.

At 91, Saika’s no retiree. Suited for our chat but factory-clad most days, he muses on longevity: “Elderly folks do karaoke or golf. Not many come to a company.” Rice fuels him—literally and figuratively. “My biggest concern is Japan’s future,” he says. With time ticking, he’s laser-focused: innovations for society, a lifeline for farmers.

As Toyo eyes the project’s 10th anniversary in 2026, Kinmemai’s sold-out status underscores its pull. Luxury gifting for occasions or clients, it’s less commodity than statement. In a world craving authenticity amid fast food’s tide, Saika’s grains whisper: Rice, done right, is a revolution.

Yet challenges loom. Japan’s farmers age out; youth flee fields for cities. Global tastes tilt toward fragrant basmati or sticky arborio. Can one man’s dream dent that? Saika bets yes—through a flavor that lingers, enzymes that pulse with life. In Fujimoto’s words, rice is “Japan’s soul food.” Kinmemai Premium? It’s the heartbeat.