<p><strong>All About the Batter: </strong>At Mochiku, an eight-seat tempura counter tucked up an unremarkable staircase in Ginza, Yuto Nishizawa is quietly turning out some of Tokyo’s most memorable tempura. The scene is intimate and unshowy: a customer talks on and on about his life, Nishizawa listens with dry humor — “He was probably hoping you’d write all that down” — and, behind the counter, he moves with total control. Trained first at a ryotei in Tsukiji and later under Mochiku’s third-generation tempura chef, Nishizawa took over in 2018 and has made the craft unmistakably his own. His tendon is the kind of lunch that lingers in the memory: prawn, whiting, spring vegetables, shiso-wrapped tuna and even conger eel, all cloaked in delicate golden batter and laid over rice. Watching him work is part of the pleasure, as each piece is dipped, fried and flipped with an elegance so restrained it barely announces itself.</p><p></p><p>What makes Nishizawa’s tempura stand out is both precision and restless refinement. His style, a version of kinpura made with egg, produces batter that is unusually airy and flavorful; even his whisk matters. “This one with more tines is better for the batter,” he says, explaining how it beats more air into the egg mixture. He tweaks constantly, whether by adding a fresh touch of yuzu over the rice bowl or improving his sourcing, and the result is tempura that begs to be eaten immediately, before the crispness gives way under his rich “secret sauce.” Meanwhile, Mochiku has become even more of a family operation, with Nishizawa, his wife Kanae and their toddler son — occasionally high-fiving customers — giving the tiny restaurant a warmth that matches the food.</p>

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<p><strong>A Low-Key Standing Sushi Bar: </strong>It’s noon on the first day of the year in Tokyo’s historic Asakusa neighborhood and we find ourselves in Hinatomaru, a casual standing sushi bar. There are few better places to eavesdrop on conversations than in small bars like this one.</p><p></p><p>Outside, thousands of people bundled in winter coats and kimonos throng the main approach to Sensoji, Tokyo’s oldest Buddhist temple. Shepherded by police into a queue spilling out onto the road in front of Kaminarimon Gate, which has been closed off to cars today, they’re here for hatsumōde, the first shrine or temple visit of the new year. We decided to forgo the crowded shrine for our own venerable tradition of hatsuzushi: the first sushi of the year.</p><p></p><p>In Japanese, “hatsu” (meaning “first”) can be combined with any number of different kanji/words to mean “first something,” e.g. hatsu-yuki (first snow), hatsu-koi (first love) or hatsu-mimi (first ear, or “this is the first I’m hearing of something”). It’s easy to create your own compounds; thus, our very own: hatsuzushi, 初寿司. What better place to celebrate an invented tradition than at a sushi bar we love –inexpensive, unpretentious and open on New Year’s Day when most other places are shut? (The A+ tuna head doesn’t hurt, either.)</p>

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<p><strong>A Simple Ramen Shop: </strong>In 2015, a ramen store in Tokyo made waves by becoming the first ever to receive a Michelin star. Tucked down a street in a slightly shabby area near Sugamo Station to Tokyo’s north, the store, Tsuta, was flooded with hordes of noodle worshippers and subsequently issued a timed-entry ticketing system to manage the crowds (reportedly to spare the clientele of the love hotel across the street from embarrassment).</p><p></p><p>Locals maintain, however, that the best ramen in the area is not found at Tsuta, which has since moved to a more upmarket location, but rather at Menya Imamura, housed one street over from the original Tsuta store.</p><p>Defying the eye-catching design of many ramen stores that are often decked with gawdy red-and-yellow signs, Menya Imamura emulates a plainer, more traditional design. Wooden slatted windows obscure the interior and white noren (flags) hang across the door. The main clue to the noodles that lie within is a large white paper lantern that bears the term nōkō tori-paitan (濃厚鶏白湯), promising thick, creamy and cloudy chicken broth.</p><p></p>

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<p><strong>Making Soba Elegant: </strong>Ramen may have seen a worldwide boom in recent years, but when it comes to soba – Japanese buckwheat noodles – fans might say they’ve been unfairly neglected.</p><p></p><p>“Soba have a history of at least 400 years, as long as sushi. Yet they’re almost completely unknown abroad,” chef Yoshinobu Saito says, pondering the concept behind his first ever restaurant. “I guess I don’t have a specific concept for the store. But I do want to promote soba worldwide.”</p><p></p><p>Saito is clearly an ambitious man, as he only opened Soba Kaiseki Gi, located in the stylish area of Ebisu, in late April. The sleek pale-wooden counter and backlit bottles of sake establish this as a modern yet unmistakably Japanese restaurant, which does exactly as its name suggests: soba for lunch, and <em>kaiseki</em>, a traditional multi-course dinner, with – in this case – buckwheat playing a starring role.</p><p></p>

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<p><strong>Izakaya, Hot Off the Grill: </strong>Traveling out to the Nakameguro district from central Tokyo is similar to a trip from midtown Manhattan to Greenpoint, Brooklyn. It’s not that far and there are many amusing and delicious reasons to go. Nakameguro is similar to parts of Brooklyn in that real estate prices remain reasonable and artists, designers, chefs and entrepreneurs have flocked there to establish high- and low-end shops and restaurants catering to the hip and trendy. It is now one of the more desirable places to live in Tokyo.</p><p></p><p>Smack in the middle of all things fabulously cool is the <em>yakitori</em> shop Kushiwakamaru, catering to neighborhood regulars as well as a rabid expat community since the mid-90s. It’s old-style Tokyo down to its most basic: honest food and brusque, efficient – yet accommodating – service. The management even allows smokers, which often gives the place a throwback feel. And because the restaurant is so popular with foreigners, the waiter will be happy to produce an English menu if asked.</p><p></p>

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<p><strong>A Japanese Curry House: </strong>The song “My Way” may be a staple of every karaoke bar in Japan but it’s also a fitting description for the Japanese fast food staple of “curry rice” as served at both Rojiura Curry Samurai and CoCo Ichibanya.</p><p></p><p>One can find four Tokyo outposts of Rojiura Curry Samurai, a Hokkaido curry maker from Sapporo, in Hachioji, Shimokitazawa, Kakurazaka and our favorite, Kichijoji. It seems these Japanese curry masters are fond of opening shops in cool neighborhoods where the locals will appreciate the uniqueness of this favored Japanese dish.</p><p></p><p>At Rojiura Curry Samurai the “my way” element begins with four kinds of base stock: a regular Japanese curry flavor, a milder version of Japanese curry, soy milk, or coconut milk. From there guests are asked to customize the spiciness with a whopping eleven levels of spice to choose from. The customizing eventually moves to sixteen different “toppings” or ingredients.</p><p></p>

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<p><strong>Cutlet Craze: </strong>Arriving at Hinata one recent winter afternoon, we luckily found most of the restaurant’s 14 counter seats empty. Hinata serves just one thing: tonkatsu, breaded and fried pork cutlets traditionally served with cabbage and rice. The space is simple but snazzy, all brick-shaped white tiles and pale wood. The menu hangs from wooden slats on the wall, and on this day sported a handwritten addendum saying that our usual order, the standard roast cutlet priced at ¥1,300, was out for the day. The lunch rush must have been a busy one.</p><p></p><p>Open since January 2017, Hinata is the brainchild of owner Tetsuya Miura and restaurant producer Masugi Daisuke (a third founding partner, a chef, has since left the restaurant). The trio wanted to create a new way of eating tonkatsu, and spent two years traveling Japan to find and experiment with different cuts of pork. They stopped searching after discovering a particular variety of swine raised in Miyagi prefecture on a strict 14-herb regiment of kanpō, Chinese herbal medicine, which softens the texture of the meat and sweetens the fat. “It doesn’t feel heavy when you eat it,” Maenaka explained. This is true of even the fattiest top rib cuts.</p><p></p>

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<p><strong>A Buddhist-inspired Breakfast: </strong>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. It looks far out of place in central Tokyo, as if it were mistakenly transplanted from another country.</p><p></p><p>Yet the temple has a long history. It was initially established in 1617, but the Great Fire of 1657 forced its relocation to its present-day location, on what was reclaimed land carefully constructed by the temple’s devout followers. The word Tsukiji, itself, means “built-up land.” The temple was yet again destroyed by a fire following the Great Kanto earthquake in 1923 and rebuilt in its current design in 1934.</p><p></p><p>Now, the modern Cafe Tsumugi sits in the temple grounds, boasting a sleek wooden design and large windows that look out onto outdoor decking.&nbsp;It offers all-day dining and a variety of high-quality green teas, but the main appeal lies in a mildly extravagant 18-dish breakfast.</p><p></p>

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<p><strong>Tokyo’s Imported Star Dish: </strong>Every day, Yuki Motokura records the temperature and the humidity, and checks in on his pizza dough. He adjusts the flour, water and salt in minute increments, and logs the results with precision.</p><p></p><p>“Even if the data is the same, it might not come out the same,” Motokura says. “Pizza is just that difficult.” While there’s no failsafe trick, he says he’s developed a kind of sense for how the dough might behave during his years of experience. “I lift the lid on the fermenting dough and I have a kind of discussion with it,” he explains.&nbsp; “‘What shall we do today?’”</p><p></p><p>That’s not the only pizza discussion taking place.&nbsp;Tokyo’s pizza scene has built a global reputation and word went round fast when Motokura launched Pizza Marumo in December 2022. Motokura cut his teeth at renowned Tokyo pizzeria Savoy, working as store manager for three years and earning himself many loyal customers, excited to try a new venture of his own.</p><p></p><p>Pizza Marumo is nestled in the fashionable neighborhood of Ebisu, and more than matches its surroundings. Sitting comfortably on a corner plot, windows flood the space with natural light during the day, showcasing the central marble counter and wood-fired pizza oven. At night, however, it transforms into a cozier and intimate spot for dinner.</p><p></p>

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<p><strong>Noodles With Bite: </strong>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.</p><p></p><p>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.</p><p></p><p>He rolls out sheet upon sheet of white udon dough, slicing it into thick, chunky noodles. He bundles them, flicking them upwards with a triumphant flourish as he examines their length and width. It’s a gesture that signals the springy texture that the noodles promise.</p><p></p><p>Japan is a country where it’s perfectly appropriate to be seduced by texture. In fact, it’s encouraged. Taste and texture are held as equals through the rightful recognition that both contribute to the enjoyment of food.</p><p>While English is sometimes lexically lacking, Japanese is rich with descriptors – kari-kari, gari-gari, shaki-shaki, jaki-jaki, and saku-saku all describe different kinds of crunch and crispiness.</p><p></p><p>Noodles at Taniya are blissfully mochi-mochi or mocchiri (chewy) and have the perfect amount of koshi (elasticity).</p><p></p><p></p>

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<p><strong>First Come, First Serve Noodles: </strong>Ramen joints are often easily recognizable, either by large windows illuminating slurping customers, a vending machine dispensing meal tickets at the doorway, or the brightly lit signs; usually it’s some combination of the three.</p><p></p><p>When it comes to Ura Sablon, however, one might easily pass it by. The narrow entrance is tucked away between a storage locker and an air conditioning unit; a small notice, illegible unless up close, is attached to a traffic cone; and the paper lantern reading “tsukemen” – a kind of dipping noodles – could easily have ended up there by chance.</p><p></p><p>Those who approach from the main street and loop around the end of the block will pass a cake store called Sablon. They will know that Ura Sablon, meaning “behind Sablon,” is simply its back entrance. But they might not know that sliding open the ramen joint’s shabby, narrow door reveals a surprising and sweet love story.</p><p></p><p>The owner is Hiroshi Yamazaki, a man with a wide earnest face, who greets customers from a small gap behind a counter that connects to a kitchen. Not that he has to greet too many – only four people can squeeze along the wooden counter, rubbing elbows as they slurp mountains of thick, chewy noodles coated in a rich, salty-sweet sauce.</p><p></p>

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