Editor’s note: In the latest installment of our recurring First Stop feature, we asked chef and author Brendan Liew about some of his favorite spots to eat in Tokyo. A chef by training, Brendan Liew has worked at restaurants including three-Michelin-starred Nihonryori Ryugin in Tokyo and Hong Kong and Sushi Minamishima in Melbourne. He’s currently at Warabi, a Japanese kappo omakase in Melbourne. He has also authored three books on Japanese cuisine: A Day In Tokyo, Tokyo Up Late and Konbini. You can follow Brendan on Instagram here.

There’s a pocket of Tokyo, strolling distance from the stock exchange and the former commercial center, which feels like a step back in time. Ningyocho is filled with stores specializing in traditional crafts, some more than 100 years old. Here you can buy rice crackers or traditional Japanese sweets or head for a kimono, before watching kabuki (traditional Japanese theater) at Meijiza. On Ningyocho’s main street, just a few minutes from Suitengu Shrine which couples visit to pray to conceive a child or for safe childbirth, is a window. The window isn’t very wide, but a flurry of movement draws the attention of passersby. There, a broad-faced Kazuyuki Tani is making udon, bouncing – no, dancing – as he works.

There’s a pocket of Tokyo, strolling distance from the stock exchange and the former commercial center, which feels like a step back in time. Ningyocho is filled with stores specializing in traditional crafts, some more than 100 years old. Here you can buy rice crackers or traditional Japanese sweets or head for a kimono, before watching kabuki (traditional Japanese theater) at Meijiza. On Ningyocho’s main street, just a few minutes from Suitengu Shrine which couples visit to pray to conceive a child or for safe childbirth, is a window. The window isn’t very wide, but a flurry of movement draws the attention of passersby. There, a broad-faced Kazuyuki Tani is making udon, bouncing – no, dancing – as he works.

Shinjuku’s Omoide Yokocho (“Memory Lane”) gradually grew from the rubble of post-war Tokyo, and has since become an institution of sorts. It started out as a black market area and gradually morphed into the narrow bar-lined, charcoal smoke-filled alleyway it remains to this day, with little in the way of real change since the 1950s. It’s not just the alley’s looks that haven’t altered much over the years, but also the food on offer – in the late 1940s, a crackdown on controlled goods affected the food stalls, forcing the vendors to switch to products that weren’t controlled, such as roast giblets. It’s a shift reflected even now, as many places continue to serve yakitori (chicken skewers) and motsu (offal).

Even for someone like myself who has lived in Japan for a long time, sliding open the door of an unfamiliar place can still be a little intimidating, as what lies beyond is invariably a complete unknown. Still, the effort is almost always worth it, as it provides entry into a whole new world, and more often than not, one where time has stood still. This is especially true in the suburban areas outside of Tokyo, where things are generally more dated, and in many ways, simply more real, offering a sense of what daily life in the Japanese capital is like. These are not soulless suburbs but rather little cities on the edge of the big city that have more than enough options for everyday living – a mix of shops and eateries, plus lots of apartment buildings and small, two-story homes. There is a whole world of bars and restaurants to be found here, each place a unique spot to have a drink, enjoy some food, and soak up the old-school atmosphere.

Our friends who visit often ask, “What’s the spot in Tokyo for X,Y, or Z?” We explain that this is not how the city works. There are numerous microcities that make up this megacity, and it’s more of a question of: “What’s the best __ in this area?” There is one exception when it comes to the best yakitori (grilled chicken) restaurant in Tokyo: the answer is, without a doubt, Shimonya in the southwest neighborhood of Shimokitazawa. Shimonya has been around since 1998, when they opened their first yakitori store in Araiyakushimae Station in Tokyo. Since then, it has grown into a vast empire of 65 eateries spanning nearly every corner of Tokyo. Most of them specialize in chicken, with a handful branching out into beef and seafood as well.

Images of neon-lit bar streets, serene temples, and clouds of cherry blossoms have long enticed travelers to Japan. But the last couple of years have seen the country’s popularity rise to unseen heights, with a record 37 million foreign tourists visiting in 2024. While last month we launched in Osaka (a culinary powerhouse in its own right) and have published dispatches from Kyoto, we’ve been writing about the food scene in Tokyo for a decade, watching the city evolve with each passing year. We know that, for all its allure, Tokyo can feel overwhelming to navigate, especially when it comes to food. Countless izakayas, sushi bars, noodle joints, and cafes are tucked into every corner – where do you even begin?

‘Tis the season of the Japanese New Year’s trinity: osechi, oseibo and nengajo. Like newsy Christmas cards, the nengajo is a recap of family or personal news mailed in postcards during the weeks preceding the end of the year and efficiently delivered all over Japan promptly on January 1. The winter gift-giving season is in full swing, with companies and individuals sending oseibo gifts as thank-you expressions for kindnesses over the year. Most gifts are food or household items like cooking oil or soap. The best of the traditions is osechi ryori, traditional New Year’s cuisine. Osechi is not something one can find in a restaurant because it’s eaten only one time a year, at home or when visiting others at home.

Living in Tokyo, there is no end to high-quality eateries, and we certainly endeavor to find the best of the best. Those that rise above the others are collected like gold dust. Whether it’s a quick bite on the go or a fancy sit-down meal, there is always something to entice us to the different suburbs of the city. Amidst the colossal amount of choice – which some might feel is overwhelming – here is a handy list of some of our faves from the past year. Latino is a new find for me, but it is an old haunt of my fiancée’s that she frequented when she worked in an office nearby.

Tokyo is a fast-paced city with many opportunities for work but also a plethora of places to destress and find comfort. In the heart of Kayabacho, a business district in central Tokyo, sits Latino, a prime destination for some of the best comfort food the city has to offer. On the surface, the name can be a bit misleading: the restaurant does have great Mexican food, a rarity in the city, but it also has a myriad of fantastic fusion curries. To get there, we walk past the office buildings and up a quieter street to a strip of restaurants serving everything from Thai to Korean. We hunt for the restaurant’s unassuming green awning and go in.

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.

Masami Sugihara likely wouldn’t call herself a chef. A licensed food consultant, fermented foods sommelier, classically trained chef, and concert violinist, she’s unsatisfied with wearing a single hat, having played different professional roles behind the counter and on stage for most of her adult life. During lunch service, she sports an apron gifted to her by the waitstaff at one of Tokyo’s best luxury hotels – a venue she frequents as a violinist, not a caterer. Her restaurant, Sakanaya no Daidokoro, in Musashi Koganei, translates simply to “Fishmonger’s Kitchen.” It’s a fitting name that reflects the type of home-style Japanese food served here and speaks to the seafood-only main dish selection.

Those arriving at Tsukiji Station on an early morning food hunt are most likely in pursuit of some breakfast sushi. Although Japan’s world-famous Tsukiji fish market relocated to Toyosu in October 2018, the ramshackle outer market remained, with its eclectic mix of household goods, tea and dried goods, and seafood donburi shops. Those in the know, however, might head for a different and very unusual breakfast experience in the area – one that has its origins in traditional vegan Buddhist cuisine. The most striking landmark upon exiting Tsukiji Station is not the market entrance, but the imposing Tsukiji Hongwanji temple. Set back from the road, this grey stone behemoth is modeled after ancient Buddhist architecture found in India and other Asian countries, with an arched roof rounded into a ringed point known as a sorin.

To reach our evening’s destination, we amble our way down Ura Shibuya-dōri (which translates to “Shibuya backstreet”) and pass by a litany of small eateries and charming hole-in-the-wall bars. This quaint neighborhood is just off the main drag, tucked in behind the more mainstream domain of tourist restaurants and the accompanying crowds. Here the streets are filled with stylish people in their twenties to thirties, young families, and salary men looking for a more suburban life beyond the hustle and bustle of Shibuya. As we pass by we notice a mix of great independent locales, from cheap Chinese eateries to fancy tuna restaurants to funky izakayas filled with locals.

Some parts of the Mitaka Chige Club’s name obviously ring true. It is one of many restaurants and bars clustered around Mitaka station’s North exit. Jiggae (often written “chige” in Japanese katakana), a shockingly red Korean soup with a gochujang base, occupies a substantial portion of the main menu. The “club” aspect becomes evident with the palpable feeling that this whole experience is carried by a small group. Passionate individuals on both sides of the counter are the lifeblood of the Mitaka Chige Club.