I sure do love Tokyo.

Eating Out in Tokyo with Jon was a project I executed between 2008 and 2011 with generous sponsorship from Lehman Brothers and then from Nomura Holdings. I started it as a resource for people like me who worked in Roppongi and wanted to go out to lunch. I quickly got way too into it, and then just stayed in out of stubbornness. How else can you explain eating lunch at a different restaurant every workday in 2009, or trying an average of 1.2 new restaurants per day, every day, for 3 years?

What you've got here is about 1,300 posts on restaurants in Japan, mostly in the aforementioned Tokyo, and then a smattering of other places where I ate on business trips or on vacation. These days I only update it when I go somewhere on vacation. Eating Out in Chicago is boring as shit compared to doing it in Tokyo.

For people who have stumbled on the site and don't want to wade through 1,300+ posts, can I suggest that you start with the summary pages? They include izakayas, Japanese junk food (with a dozen ramen recommendations), and the other titles just under the header. Depending on when you're reading this, links, addresses, phone numbers, names, chefs, genres, and qualities may have changed dramatically. If you have questions, other excellent sources of information are here or here.

Karakiya, Sangenjaya (酒の唐木屋)

So I was just out for a random stroll through the nether Western regions of Sancha, ...

No I wasn't. Woody told me about this place. I don't get out so much any more, so I rely on advice.

And I like Liquor and Foods, and I like nothing better than drinking away the afternoon with no obligations. Your level of interest is probably similar to that of this fine fellow strolling by and enlivening my picture. What the heck are we doing outside a neighborhood liquor store?






Ohhh, that's why. It's not a Foods store at all any more. Presumably the mad genius son of the founders was behind this conversion from neighborhood grocery to high-end sake shop? What do they need all these folding chairs for?

And why do the bottles all have these funny labels? Oh good heavens, it's because you can get 60 cc of pretty much anything on the shelf for a low-low price. The Y245 for this guy is actually one of the higher prices for a dram.

This guy is awesome looking, isn't he? It's 'The Black Mask' from Hyakujurou 

(百十郎 黒面 if you're keeping score at home). And you saw above that it's 

all nama, and gen, and jun and dai and all the rest. You couldn't get more adjectives on the label, couldja?

You also couldn't have more fun for $5 if you tried. This is a cool store. Where else could you just line up a few shots of value-priced yamahai sake? This isn't the whole selection by any means either. You could probably drink 60ml shots of different warm yamahai until you passed out.

And there's the problem - all those open bottles of yamahai are sitting around at room temperature. The room's dark and cool compared to outside, but it's not a big fridge - it's still comfortable for extended sittin and drinkin. So most of the bottles have that not so fresh feeling.

I gotta tell ya, it was a struggle to get through those three little glasses of warm yamahai. And I was running out of time for the afternoon (those weren't all the bottle that went before), so I just wanted something refreshing. And there are 12 or 15 fridges against the other walls - you can see some of them above. And they have some good brewery relationships - cf several bottles of Kagiya that I tried. And they have a selection of craft beer. And the have a selection of...what's that thing called, the one the Koreans call makkori? There's a Japanese variant on it, and the styrofoam growlers in the panorama up top were for carrying home a liter or two of it.


There's no food here. I mean, maybe there were some snacks and meat sticks or sumthin. But you mostly need to (and I hear are encouraged to) bring in your own foods from the outside world. And it really seemed like the outside world by the time I staggered out of this rabbit hole and back into the street.

Not that nether Sancha doesn't seem like another world all on its own or nothin. 
03-3421-3720

Baker Bounce, Sangenjaya (ベーカーバウンス)

So I was just roaming around Sancha, waiting for a liquor store/bar to open at 12 so I could have a few drinks on my way to another appointment (this is what people do in Tokyo. Liquid lunches, all that.), and as I roamed a curious sight hove into view down an extremely typical and very quiet side street.

Heavens, I know that name! I cried. Inwardly, I mean. One doesn't cry out in the streets in Tokyo. It would be a dead giveaway that one doesn't fit in. I figure if I don't engage in open outcry, I can pass for a native and upstanding citizen.








Well, why not? One must sometimes sacrifice novelty for fame. And as the list of posts to the right of the page attests, I am nothing if not a completist about this. Here's what the inside of the original shop looks like (I remember now that they have a branch in Midtown, or did, or something. I'm less of a completist about this stuff than I used to be, you know?) - recreated shabby American diner. How great is that? You'll never be able to go back to a sorta late-40's, early-50's diner in America ever again - no one's going to go back to making the shelves and trim out of wood. The tables were sourced, vintage, in a set, and they all match.

Speaking of 'match', nothing goes better than a set-drink cola, a lunch beer, and some water. Don't you agree? It just seemed like the thing to do, although of course you wouldn't want to alternate between the beer and soda, and I wasn't sure what to drink first. I persevered.

You know right away that you're in Japan by the twee-ness of the presentation. Before I walk about the burger, let me say that the coleslaw was bad. Whatever they're trying to achieve there, they're not managing...no, they might be managing it. But if they ARE achieving it, I disagree prima facie with their goals.

The ketchup was weird. And by weird, I mean homemade. They make their own ketchup! And by homemade, I mean "sweetened, smoothed tomato paste". It's awesome that they care enough to make their own ketchup, but ketchup is supposed to have some weird seasonings in it (really, look up a recipe) and just isn't ketchup without vinegar, which this was absent of. Perhaps I should be saying they make their own catsup, and all of this would make sense.

Another thing that doesn't make sense - the chef is constantly firing up and turning off a torch that he uses to melt the cheese and crisp up the bacon. The bacon that they make themselves. I asked one of the guys as I was leaving (since it says 'homemade bacon' on the staff shirts) and he proudly allowed as how they cure and smoke it themselves. That's almost too much, guys.

This is almost too much too. It's a little gross, but burgers aren't supposed to be pretty. Now that you've gotten all the way to this point, let's cut to the chase - I've been eating a lot more burgers recently than I used to, and I would say this can stand up proudly with most of them. By the time you get to the great-burger level, there are enough stylistic differences that you really can't compare, and this has got its own thing going, going well.

Going, going, gonnerino.
03-5481-8670

Menya Musashi Kosho, Roppongi (麺屋武蔵 虎嘯)

The original concept of this blog was of course 'lunch in Roppongi'. I moved on pretty quickly from that due to the whole 'implosion of my employer and my subsequent relocation to Otemachi', I still have a soft spot for Roppongi lunches.

Actually I don't; I don't have a soft spot for anything about Roppongi. I needed to go to the bank, and after 2 hours of waiting, negotiation and processing, my sherpa Harry and I were pretty well ready for lunch. Bizarrely, I've never blogged the nearby Ippudo branch, and I steered clear of that today too, in favor of the Menya Musashi branch that opened sometime in the last year or two. I don't get to Roppongi much these days.

I was pleased that we could walk in and only wait for 5 minutes; I distinctly remember the Akiba branch of Menya Musashi having reliable lines.

Nice looking store, right? Somehow I thought I had been to more of these guys, each of which I think has a different theme, but in looking back the only one I've been to is Takatora in Baba. The team here is surprisingly mellow for one of these black-paint-and-metal, ikemen places. They're not that ike either, come to think of it. Just guys working hard without any clever synchronized shouting and whatnot. Relaxing, I thought.

Well hey boy, let's get into it. The standard 'ramen' pictured here is a very good bowl; a little bit unique (which is like a little bit pregnant).

The soup is medium-weight, without any over-the-top fat or bone or fish flavor; they also have a shrimp version. They also do a big line in tsukemen, which most people seemed to be having, but I still don't understand the point of those, and I steered us in the normal direction.

The noodles are neat; more like Inaniwa udon than anything else in their wide flattitude. They're also pretty soft and slippery, with a high 'fear quotient', ie feeling that they're going to jump off the chopsticks and onto your lap at any time. I escaped with only minor damage.

Pork may be a highlight at Menya Musashis; it is at Takatora, and the style here was (different and) interesting too - it tasted a lot like canned ham, which I don't mean to sound as bad as it does. I saw a staffer dealing with several huge pans of whole cuts, and they were all vacuum-packed. Are the roasted and then wrapped for transport, or is it possible they could be cooked sous vide to get this texture and flavor?

Based on this egg, they clearly know how to control them a little water temperature, so it seems possible. Boy do I like a nice jellied yolk like this. America has no idea what it's missing with these things.

That's about it. Do you mind if I stop? Roppongi not being a real ramen destination, this is definitely the place you should go if you need noodles.

So I went for a walk afterwards to reminisce, and whaddya know, I was wrong. Turns out there IS a place where smorking is OK.

But only one. 
03-3497-0634

Bar-B-Cutie, Nashville

What's up there, sweet cheeks? Leonard and I flew in to Nashville for a long weekend men's trip. Nothing sordid ensued unless you count 5 meals of barbecue in 3 days as sordid. And my intestines sorta did. You know I don't eat that much meat these days.

So I got in after him due to flooding around my departure airport, we picked up a car, and I immediately suggested barbecue. I had scoped the vicinity a little and knew some of the higher-toned establishments that I wanted to try, and also some of the chains. Right near the airport there turned out to be a Whitt's; we pulled in to the parking lot and were so turned off by the obvious fast-foodishness of it that we pulled back out. This branch of Bar-B-Cutie was nearby; I think it's the second company-owned one, from back before they started franchising it out.

You know, it's pretty fast-foody in its own right, with smooth and soulless upgrades to the interior that to my mind clash with the nice retro exterior (which in turn clashes with the soulless nature of the strip malls nearby). I was put off by it, but it was getting late and we were hungry, and what the hell. So we ordered up a mess of food, in what quickly became the pattern for meals all weekend (because it's the pattern for me every time I eat barbecue, and I get annoyed if a restaurant doesn't allow it) - ribs, pulled, brisket, sides.

The ribs were extremely salty but soft enough, and tasty. I believe the pulled was dry here and required a lot of sauce. Brisket I don't remember, which isn't an exciting sign. Fried okra was good, turnip greens and stuffing were not. The pickle bar is a fun addition to the options as well. This was the first, but certainly not the last, time that we got 'corn bread', and it turned out to be little pancakes. That's the style around here.

OK if you need it, otherwise go somewhere more interesting. 
(615) 872-0207

Angelo's, Fort Worth

So I was in Forth Worth for about 20 hours to have a little meeting. We got in early, visited some stores of the retailer we were meeting, and then were left with 2+ hours of dead time. My colleague, Hoor, looked at me and said "Barbecue" and we were off. It was like a little mad dash to work the phones, seeing what kinda options were available and what showed up where on the best-of lists.

We settled on Angelo's since it was ranked up there and was also close to the meeting location. And I say 'settled', because it's on White Settlement Road, and that prompted more than a few chuckles from us. I was getting ready to say that it's funny how some other bloggers comment on the road's name as being a racist hangover when clearly it's just called that because the White family first settled the area...but no, the town of White Settlement got its name to distinguish it from the nearby Indian settlement.

We opened the doors, got a big whiff of smoke in the face, and said "This is the place." At 11 on a Tuesday, it wasn't that crowded.

I'm shamelessly poaching this picture from the Googlez so y'all can see what it's like inside. And I say 'poaching', because I'm not at all sure where Angelo got all the trophy heads mounted on his walls (nor am I sure how a Sicilian immigrant became the best barbecue smoker in all of the White Settlement). Angelo also likes to 'poach' beers, as we used to say in high school - big goblets of beer. It seemed like almost a requirement to drink one, probably 20 ounces in a half-domed cup with a chunky glass handle. Old ladies had 'em.

Old ladies had big-ass piles of meat in front of em too. Everything's bigger in Texas, including our eyes as we ordered this lunch. I'm not shy about eating, and Hoor is a much healthier boy than me, so we got at least two pounds to nibble on. The ribs on the right were, seriously, the best I've had. I don't feel compelled to go into detail about their smokiness or fattiness or softness or what have you - if I say 'good barbecue', I give you credit for having at least a working knowledge of the genre, and these were the epi-tome of said genre. Brisket in the middle is a Texas thing in general, and was much better than the iffy version I had in Charlotte back in May last year (I see I didn't even blog it, which is prolly fitting). The sausages were fantastic - one meaty guy and one spicy guy - maybe I should be checking out the 'hot links' more often at these places? They do a smoked head cheese too; the staff seemed very proud of it, but we were chicken. (Let's not talk about the sauce or sides, OK?)

I'm unsure what else you need to know here. I went to Nashville a few weeks later, visited 5 barbecue restaurants in 3 days, and would trade all of 'em for another lunch at Angelo's. Plus they ship meat, at very reasonable prices.

Another thing, I don't see anyone on the message boards saying this is NOT the best barbecue in Ft Worth.
817.332.0357

Heinig, Vienna

Here we are, the day after Christmas, when all the stores say nothing on their web sites or windows about being closed...but they all are. "We take no holidays!" except the one that everyone but someone and me must know happens automatically on the 26th. Strange, because a lot of places were open on the 25th.

Heinig was an exception, and we had walked by a bunch of times and been tempted by the frivolous cheerfulality of its windows. How can you not like this? It wouldn't be Christian not to.

Maybe there's something holiday going on with the cakes in the case too - certainly there's a fair bit of fake snow. They look OK, right?

I loved all the little piggy items too. It must be a weiner thing, just letting the pink bits flop about like that.

They have two dining salons, and we went upstairs where it was quiet and kinda dark and we could look peacefully out the window.

As well as 'enjoying' the ambience. The ceiling is a neat shape, but the decor overall suffers from a bit of family-restaurant-itis.

With vacation winding down, I saw no reason to hold back, and went right for half a liter of beer. We had some desultory savory food too, but the gulaschsuppe tasted canned, as did the pancake souppen, and I'm forgoing posting pictures of them out of protest.

I should maybe forgo the whole thing out of protest, because the cakes were competent, not much better, and that's a disappointment after the grandeur and charm of the exterior and windows. We had an obligatory Sachertortten also, but there wasn't anything to write home about.

But I will most certainly be writing home to let the homefolks know that the coffee here was bad. Not competent, bad. I want to say it was worse than the bad one the previous day at The Iceberg, but in truth I've forgotten what order everyone was marching in the parade of bad coffee drinks in Weiner. Let's leave it at that.

Points for being open and all, but I can't in good faith tell you to go here. Every aspect of the presentation is better somewhere else (except maybe the presentation in the cake case).

Awww hell, I can't find a web site for these guys, and I'm too lazy to work on it right now.
L8S!

Café Schwarzenberg, Vienna

Once, in the dreadfully cold winter of 1743, an enormous black iceberg washed up on the shores of Wiener. It still looms large, nay, it hulks in the memory of Wieners, and to remember the horrific sight while also defusing some of its mystery, majesty, and mummery, the Guldraus family named their eponymous restaurant after it - Cafe Schwarzeniceberg, more popularly shortened to the form you'd see above the door if you were standing outside at dusk, pondering the welcoming lights.

This is classic Wiener cafe as far as I'm concerned, and worth a visit just for the vaulted, tiled ceilings, suited waiters, and happy atmosphere. It's the oldest extant cafe on the Ring.

One thing I'll say is that it feels a lot more touristy than...actually most of the grand cafes we tried were pretty touristy. If you want local flaveur, Pruckel was definitely the place.

And if you want coffee, be warned that this is NOT the place. Actually, if you want coffee, let's cut to the chase - Wiener is not the place. I had coffee every day for a week in the city, and one, maybe two melanges (lah-tay, more or less) rose to the level of 'acceptable'. Contrast this with the terrific coffee you can get anywhere in a city like Melbourne, and the Wieners have a lot to answer for considering their proud history of coffee drinkin' and cafe-goin'.

This particular melange was distinguished by how bad it was.

But I was pleased with the ridiculous dark density of their mohn cake - good heavens, that's a lot of poppy seeds. Mohn, mohn, mohn - that's all you ever do!

I did have a better mohntorte for breakfast before going to the airport - a veritable brick of seeds, sugar and brandy - but you'll have to wait to see that.

You won't have to wait to see someone's Sachertorte rematch. It's in the picture just to the right. Still not as good as the original, but acceptable.

The self-description of this place as a 'stronghold of Austrian tradition' is pretty decent, and I think you should check it out for one of your afternoon snacks if you're staying the vicinity (as you might well be - many of the palace hotels are around this southeast region of the Ring).

I wouldn't be going for the food though.
+43 (1) 512 89 98

Figlmuller, Vienna

Festive Christmas luncheon! Nothing says Christmas to me like thinly-pounded veal cutlets, and nothing says thinly-pounded Wieners like Figlmuller - though how much of their popularity is due to the food and how much is due to the marketing is an interesting question.

As an aside, I enjoyed the atmosphere here tremendously, in mo small part because of the clientele. There was a big table of Japanese men, and it was comforting to hear them joking and talking, and there was an ancient couple in the back - I swear they were 90, they couldn't walk well, and they were each tucking into pounded Wieners. Very good play, I say.

I did like the festivity as well, even though this chandelier was hung over a table of frattish tourists.

Now, I'm sure there were a LOT of tourists all around me, but I didn't notice for the first few days that we were in Wiener. All the tourists are white! They blend in. And they all look the same.

After a few days the tourists became more obvious, especially the Russians. Anyone blowing smoke at you, pushing past you in lines, generally being a jerk? Russian. Or maybe Ukranian. Or Slovakian. I dunno. They all look the same.

So I had some wine to forget my Russian troubles. Cheap. Eminently drinkable. Served by a stern and aged waiter who was pretty nice - more businesslike than anything else, but in a way that let you know he was looking out for you. For example, the first wineglass smelled a little, and as soon as I asked for a new one, it was there, no complaint. I love it when the staff in a truly touristy place are also on top of their jobs.

I cannot comment on someone's knoedel, because it's a leberknoedel, and you know I don't like leber. I tried enough to be able to tell you that it wasn't entirely leber; the rest was some other meat, and I think a lot of bread crumbs. I really got used to clear soup on this trip; it's comforting.

As a throwaway side salad, this is great! It's not a gargouillou or anything, but look at all the varieties of leaf and sprout. Again, much better than a tourist restaurant needs to be, and a decent value.

This is the item. Take one Wiener, pound the hell out of it...actually, I have an uncomfortable feeling that this is done by machine. It's awfully thin and regular. I would also say it's just too big, because it's cold by the time you get to the other side, even when you have two people sharing it like we did. There's more bread than meat. I liked other versions. <sigh>

Check this out - all you diners and picnics who say you've got some potato salad for me? You got nothin'. These potatoes are perfectly cooked, the greens are fresh (and kinda weird - what are they?), the onions are delicately chopped, and that brown stain at the lower right of the bowl is...pumpkin seed oil. Good lord this was delicious. Have you ever had pumpkin seed oil? I thought not. Took me several meals to realize I should ask what it is, because it pops up a lot - a standard Wienercondimenten, it seems. Certainly there were 6 varieties at the smallish supermarket we later visited, one of which is now in my cupboard. It's weird to say, but I think the atmosphere and the potato salad were the things that made me like Figlmuller so much.

And maybe the wine.

By the time we left, people were waiting outside. They didn't seem disgruntled - it's a picturesque little alley, and the quality service inside keeps things turning over. If the line's too long here, try going to the end of the alley and turning right, whereupon you'll find the 'new' restaurant. I think the food's the same, and the atmosphere can't be all bad.

And there's wine.
+43/1/ 512 61 77

Oswald & Kalb, Vienna

Hola. My name is Kalb, but you can call me Oswald for short.

Hey, 'kalb' means 'veal', and the poster to the right of the door (very festive, lads!) said something like "The best wiener in Wiener!" so I think they rate their schnitzel highly. It was Christmas Eve, someone was sick, and I still felt like going out for 'Viennese Cuisine' and some wine. A bit of research made O&K sound like a good place, and I wasn't disappointed.

YOU would be disappointed, that is, if you were expecting to see photos of food. That's because in the rush of leaving the room, I managed to take my old camera and my phone, but not my new camera...or a memory card. So the pictures I accidentally took with my phone are all you get.

It's not such a big deal though - it's Viennese Cuisine, after all. So you by no means need to see a picture of the venison goulash I had as a main, nor the wine list (although I should point out if you're keeping score that the wine here was much more expensive than at other places - I was positively addicted to the tremendously drinkable $3 glasses at most places).

I would have loved to get you a closer picture of the couple in the back there, especially once the ridiculously tall, blonde was joined by a second one. I thought they were sisters, but the first one seemed to have had some work done. And none of that explained what they were doing with the round little balded bearded guy.

Christmas Eve was kinda festive, and with me being alone it wasn't that much fun. I took this picture in an effort to make myself feel like I was having dinner with these nice wieners.

Actually I DID feel like I was having dinner with the American family at the next table, a daughter and her parents. I've forgotten their names, which I overheard during the conversation, but even a month later I remember the details of the daughter's relationship 'troubles'. She wasn't sure if her boyfriend was right for her despite her parents' pressure to get married, and she enumerated his faults: he "doesn't plan enough dates" and "we're fighting about which church we should attend, his or mine." What a loser he is! I hope for his sake that she breaks up with him.

Word to the wise, check who's sitting near you. Another word to the wise, try the smoked eel here! It was really good.

On the whole, I wouldn't be dying to go here if I was you and visited Weiner. I would try the schnitzel, and I wouldn't take any shit from the staff, who seemed annoyed that I was taking up a table by myself in their mostly-empty restaurant, and not ordering food and drink fast enough.

That is all.