Shibuya is one of the busiest areas of the sprawling megacity of Tokyo, home to department stores, the famous Scramble – the world’s busiest walkway, and a whole host of eateries for the masses of tourists that come to play. In amongst all of this lies Shirubee, a hidden izakaya. This casual style of Japanese restaurant, featuring a smorgasbord of different comfort foods, is one of our favorite ways to dine, making it possible to taste and share many small dishes, much like Spanish tapas.
There is no signage from the street and no instructions on how to find the place. Even Google Maps is incorrect about where the entrance is. Unless you have been taken there before, it is almost impossible to locate.
This may come as a surprise to some, who may wonder “Don’t they want to capitalize on all the foot traffic?” In a nutshell: No. They are confident that the people who know, know.
We embark on our journey by following the route we had been shown before, navigating through a checklist of landmarks as we retrace our steps:
Find the 7-Eleven and go up the flight of stairs on the right.
Walk down the hall and move through the last door on the right.
Descend the narrow outdoor passageway.
At the end of this walk, we reach a small hobbit door. The faint signage above it reads “Shirubee.”
We slide open the door, crouch down to enter, and take off our shoes. We are met by a surly waiter who points us in the direction of our table. All of the staff are strictly no-nonsense: they have an order to how they do things and know that the food speaks for itself.
The interior of the place is very classically Japanese, with lots of long wooden counters, dark ambient lighting, and low tables. As we head to our table, we overhear one of the staff on the phone with a guest who is lost. He informs them, “If you’re ten minutes late, you’re losing the reservation.”
Relieved we remembered the route, we sit down and ask about their sake selection. The server pulls out an envelope and hands it to us. Inside is a folded menu of the seasonal sakes on offer this evening. (Quick tip: when you ask for “sake” at a restaurant or bar, they might give you a blank look. This is because sake is the Japanese word for alcohol. Most places will understand that “sake” is shorthand for rice wine, but the actual Japanese name is nihon-shu.) We order the Hiyaoroshi sweet sake from the Nagano region and a highball, an izakaya classic that combines whiskey and lemonade.
We manage to get the ear of the chef and manager, the longest serving staff member (who wished to remain anonymous) and ask him about the restaurant’s history. He tells us, “This place first opened its doors in 2001 and is owned by the Raku Corporation. They own several different eateries around Tokyo and one in Santa Monica, California.” Almost all of the establishments owned by Raku are Shirubees, the location in Shimokitazawa being the largest.
“This is a fish izakaya and our fish are always fresh and seasonal,” he says. “We have several regulars that come here, and even though most of our guests find out about this place via word of mouth, we are always busy.” He recommends we try the sashimi set and gets back to preparing the dishes.
Our server arrives with our first dish: an elegantly presented selection of sashimi consisting of tako (octopus), buri (Japanese amberjack), salmon, tai (sea bream), maguro (tuna), and katsuo (slapjack tuna). Each bite is fresh and delicious, disintegrating almost instantly as we put them into our mouths.
The server tells us that the most popular dish on the menu is the aburi saba (seared vinegar mackerel). It arrives at the table with a flourish from the server who brandishes a blowtorch. He hands over a wedge of lemon and tells us to squeeze it when instructed. The blowtorch is held over the fish and a thick fiery blast sears the top of it, caramelizing the skin. Then he gives the signal and we liberally drizzle the lemon juice over the fish. He smiles and announces, “Nice lemon!” The blowtorch had done its job, each bite bursting with a satisfying medley of flavors, the fishiness of the mackerel, the sour from the vinegar, and the sweet from the charred skin.
More plates arrive and we get into some of the ultimate Japanese comfort food classics. Nikujaga, a beef and potato stew, is served with a poached egg. It is thoroughly warming – the soy and mirin flavors evoke childhood memories of our grandmother making the same dish. A sweet chicken kara-age is presented next, arguably the most popular Japanese snack. Pieces of chicken thigh are battered and flavored with soy sauce, ginger, and garlic, then deep fried. The dish also contains thin slices of sweet pumpkin and a liberal sprinkling of sesame seeds. Each bite is so satisfying that we feel we could continue eating long after our appetites had abated.
With our bellies full, we settle up and head out of the restaurant, getting several shouts of “Arigatogozaimasu” (thank you very much) as we leave. We navigate back out and into the busy streets of Shibuya, tourists streaming up and down, looking for a uniquely Japanese experience. Little did they know that one of the ultimate experiences was just a stone’s throw away, hiding in plain sight.
Published on October 30, 2024