Japan | Shibuya – Izakayas & Ramen

After spending a few days with family, we boarded a train for Tokyo.

We made sure to bring our appetites along for the ride.

So far I had eaten mostly (non-Japanese) home-cooked meals, some Japanese snacks from a convenience store, and ok sushi from a fun sushi-go-round restaurant. Everything I ate tasted good but while in Japan I was in search of mind-blowing orgasmic food. Izakayas, ramen, sobu, shabu, sushi, okinomiyake, takoyaki, katsu… all the Japanese food I had been dreaming about eating — IN JAPAN.

We took the train to the famed Shibuya Station in Tokyo and, after getting turned around more than a few times, finally found the exit we needed. Tokyo slapped me in the face from the moment my head popped out of the subway station: Bright flashing lights, throngs of people crossing every which way, the sound of video arcades and muted karaoke, the scent of hot ramen and grilled yakitori, elevated trains whizzing by above us, taxis honking, a seemingly endless stream of looping video playing on jumbotron screens. All topped off with a light sprinkling of rain and the shooshing of puddles as they splashed against the wheels of passing traffic.

Umbrellas unfurled we studied our map to our airbnb apartment with furrowed brows. (PS: Google maps works well in Tokyo. Dear Google Korea: please take note.) Everything felt jumbled, confusing, overwhelming, but exciting at the same time: a foreign city, the commotion, and dark alleys with street signs we couldn’t decipher. We slogged through the rain, now beating down even harder. Eventually I gave up on my umbrella. By the time we reached our Shibuya apartment I was in poor spirits. My bag felt as if it weighed a million pounds, my shoes were soggy, my hair frizzy, and after passing by so many mouth-watering restaurants on our walk to the apartment, my stomach was grumbling.

It took us no time at all to quickly change into dry clothes and, using google maps, locate the closest izakaya to our apartment.

After about a ten minute walk down a mysterious alley we found the izakaya, recognizable only because the outside matched photos we found online. If not for the photos we would have been utterly clueless.

In the rain the restaurant glowed and beckoned. We gently pushed aside the noren to step inside and were greeted ever-so-politely in Japanese by the hostess and the rest of the staff. Sly motioned to the stools around the bar where we were seated and handed menus. In our rush to find a place to eat we failed to comprehend that a restaurant that only had info and reviews in Japanese would also probably be the type of place to have Japanese-only menus. (We were in Japan, after all.) You would think that, having lived in a foreign country for a year, and having traveled to many a non-English speaking country, that we would be used to it by now, or at least prepared. Yet for some reason the realization that we were at a restaurant with a menu we couldn’t read came rather slowly. If we couldn’t read the menu, how would we order food?

I think we must have read that menu cover to cover, frantically flipping the pages back and forth and searching the special menu items written on the wall, desperately hoping that something — anything — in English would magically materialize.

Spoiler alert: it never did.

“Crap, now what do we do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t recognize a single thing on the menu.”

“Ummm…well…this should be interesting”

“Let’s just order a beer and leave.”

“We can’t just leave that would be weird. We’re in a nice Japanese place.”

“Or let’s just point to stuff? I’m good at pointing at stuff. Maybe I can catch a glimpse of that person’s food and point to that?” The terror of having to play charades while dining at our first Japanese restaurant together started to slowly build.

“Maybe we can use google translate? Ok we’ll take a picture of the menu and translate it…it should pick up something…”

“Maybe if we talk really slow they’ll understand us?” (I’m kidding, we didn’t say that.)

“Sh*t” (We did say this.)

After what felt like an eternity — a very hot and sweaty and flustered eternity — but was probably only five minutes, one of the chefs came around to our table and asked us what we would like to eat…in English. Oh my GOD we were so relieved. We may have laughed a little bit too loud and a whole lot nervously out of relief.

“Would you like some chicken?” the chef asked.

Sly and I looked at one another, slightly confused. In my head I wondered a) if chicken was the default dish that foreigners liked to eat which was why he suggested it b) if the chef only knew the English word for chicken but maybe not English translations of the more Japanese style dishes c) if the chicken was really awesome at this place and d) if I was totally over-analyzing the situation and  the chef meant nothing at all except to ask if we wanted chicken.

Luckily the chef’s English was good enough for us to communicate, “Bring us out whatever you like to eat. We’ll eat anything.”

And so it began…

Fresh, thick slices of sashimi, some ever-so-gently grilled, served with a squeeze of lime. Bright, tart, slightly bitter; a refreshing start to our meal.

Yakitori sampler – a smorgasbord of grilled teriyaki chicken livers, mushrooms, tomatoes, gizzards, chicken, and green onion. It was both fascinating and entertaining to watch the chefs prepare and grill our skewers of food. Everything was cooked so precisely and seasoned to perfection.

Our final course: crispy fish (mackerel?), salted and served with lime and radish. So simple and so good.

All washed down with multiple glasses of ice-cold, perfect poured, Sapporo on draft.

Once we finished our last course, the English-speaking chef asked us if we were still hungry. Honestly we could have sat on those stools and ordered everything off the menu but somewhere during the course of dinner Sly and I decided we wanted to eat ramen.

With our “appetizers” out of they way, we moved on to “second dinner”: Ichiran Ramen.

In contrast to the izakaya, Ichiran ramen was one of the more popular guide-book type ramen places in Tokyo. We chose it because the restaurant had good reviews and was only a short walk away from the izakaya. Given its popularity there was a pretty decent line, even at an off-dinner hour, and even in the rain.

Good thing we had just eaten dinner… I mean appetizers…

The line moved rather quickly. After maybe 30 minutes we reached the ramen vending machine where we selected our ramen and add-ons. Not only was this menu in English, but it had pictures too!

We paid for our meal and out came a ticket.

On the left: a seating chart. Green shows available seats.

With our tickets in hand we waited in another, shorter line, this time for available seats. We were also given a sheet of options to circle so that we could fine tune our ramen just the way we liked it. I went for a rich, moderately spicy broth with medium-firm noodles, topped with a hard-boiled egg, green onions and a few slices of pork.

When two seats opened up next to one another, Sly and I were given the go-ahead to sit down. The seating areas were set up like library study cubbies, except these ramen cubbies featured a folding partition that allowed for as much or as little privacy as one needed. Each cubby also came equipped with its own personal water spigot.

We pushed a button in our cubby to summon the staff. The bamboo screen slid open and we handed the headless person on the other side our ticket. Our hard-boiled eggs came out right away then the bamboo screen was dropped, closing us off from the kitchen.

And then, in about 10 minutes, as if by magic, out came the most glorious bowl of ramen I ever did see.

The ultimate food porn

It was absolute perfection in a bowl — the slight chewiness of the noodles, the creaminess of the broth — rich but not too rich, spicy but not overly so.

Everything was just right.

My only regret: I couldn’t finish my bowl of broth. I mean I could have force-fed myself but I remembered a not-so-distant time when my sister and I ate too much ramen and waddled home in pain. So I stopped before I burst. And I regret it. Leave no broth behind.

Meanwhile, Sly entered another realm of gluttony. He ordered kaedama, or in layman’s terms a noodle refill, for his left over broth and if I remember correctly, he also ordered another egg to go along with it. “I gotta get my ramen in while I can,” he said. I offered my left over broth to Sly but at that point Sly was also too stuffed (and rightly so).

And then, after both groaning that we couldn’t eat another bite, that we might die if we had another slurp — we went off in search of dessert.

Because there’s always room for dessert.

DETAILS

Toroya Izakaya ( 寅や ) | CUISINE: Japanese izakaya, sake bar | COST: approx $10-15 per small plate | LOCATION: Shibuya district, Tokyo (If you plan on doing a google search, you’ll need to enter the Japanese characters, not the Romanized name) | DESCRIPTION: This restaurant seemed like a really good neighborhood spot away from all the Shibuya crowds and tourists. The atmosphere was casual, warm and welcoming and the staff friendly. This is definitely not a tourist spot, and as such the menu is entirely in Japanese. Luckily one of the chefs spoke English! We essentially asked for an omakase style meal – meaning meals selected by the chef. If in doubt, and if you don’t have any food restrictions/aren’t too picky an eater, then it might be worth asking. Everything the chef selected was fantastic — simple but flavorful, carefully prepared, and perfectly seasoned. | VERDICT: Recommended.

Ichiran Ramen | CUISINE: Tonkotsu ramen “from the 60s”| COST: Approx $10 with egg. $1-2 per side or extras | LOCATION: Multiple locations throughout Japan. We went to this one in Shibuya | DESCRIPTION: Tonkotsu ramen, made from pork bone broth that has been simmered until  it essentially disintegrates, is thick and creamy and buttery. This is probably my favorite style of ramen though admittedly at times the richness of the soup it can build to the point where it feels as if you ate 10 sticks of butter. The process for ordering the ramen is very straightforward and self-explanatory — place your order at the vending machine, pay, get a ticket, and when a seat is ready your host/ess will seat you. The seating is similar to eating at a diner counter except with partitions on the side of you and a partition in front. I was initially concerned that I would be seated at one cubby while Sly would be at another but we were seated next to one another and were able to open the folding screen between us to have more of an open table space.According to the seating chart diagram it looked as if there were seats for families or children? I wouldn’t necessarily come here with a large group and expect to be seated together — it’s just not that kind of place. Once seate, push the service button, hand in your ticket, and in no time at all a delicious bowl of soup will appear in front of you like magic! | VERDICT: I’m sure there are better places in Tokyo, but this was one damn good bowl of soup. | TIP: If you are super hungry like Sly, or if you want to split a bowl, you can order what is called “kaedama,” or a noodle refill for a few bucks more. Leave at least half of your broth, fill out the form requesting more noodles, ring the bell, and voila! PS: Ichiran, like many ramen joints, is 24HRS!!!