meat and shake, tooting bec - review

“The burger is omnipotent and irresistible, it can never be weakened.”

A bit god-like, is that. But the rousing burger-inspired quotes on the Meat & Shake website aren’t far wrong. Burgers are still here. This meaty tide has yet to subside. Perhaps - along with cockroaches - they would be the only things left after a nuclear war; the bloody things just won’t die.

“If everything else fails, the burger will still stand”. 

I don’t doubt it.

It’s just as well I quite like them, then. Meat & Shake is the relatively new kid on Tooting’s block (opened August 2013), taking over the site where an Indian restaurant stood before, and another before that.

It’s a clever location - I believe the next closest burger joint might be in Clapham (Byron - “opening soon” said the board last time I was there, and Haché). More importantly, they know their market - the menu is fully halal. I suspect the local Muslim community welcomed with open arms a new place to eat that wasn’t Nando’s or food from the Indian sub-continent.

It’s not a huge place, and I know how busy Tooting (Bec) can get. They also don’t take reservations, so I suspect any qualms will be around waiting for a table. Go a little either side of the usual eating times - 2pm on a Saturday and there were two tables free on arrival, it quietened down soon after.

They’ve gone for a casual American diner feel with leather booths and a sign illuminated with bare light bulbs. But there’s also a little refinement found in the large and heavy menus (for a burger place), and the addition of edible flowers and chefy slashes of sauce with your meal. The latter is entirely superfluous, but I appreciate the effort to be a little different.

The sourcing is solid. All the meat is free range and from Macken Brothers. Beef is dry-aged for a minimum of 35 days, ground daily and made into patties to order. And the meat offerings stretch far beyond what you can find between a bun - think lafayette wings, steak, slow-cooked sticky ribs and dogs.

Wave the hint of truffle under my nose and I will order it, even if it comes on a Spontex J-cloth. There is always the risk though, that ordering something with white truffle mayo and a honey and truffle glaze can be too potent. 

But the Truffle Shuffle (“hey you guys!”) was spot on, with melted Gruyère to boot. Patty pink in the middle with juices escaping as I cut, the whole assembly as sloppy as you like - my burger preference. The brioche bun - shiny, plump and fluffy - provided a perfect medium to mop up the mayo and dark sticky glaze; there are few things worse than bun left over with nothing for it to do (£7.90).

How I am with truffle, the other half is with blue cheese; “There’s proper blue cheese in this - I just got a bit of wheel rind” - a good sign. The Pepé Le Pew, also with aioli, red onions, walnuts and soft caramelised pear, was better than a similar offering he’d had at a much more well-known burger joint in town, he said (£8.50).

Dirty Fries (enough for two) looked like a toddler had gone mental in a Little Chef, but they were good. Chips topped with chilli con carne with nice fat kidney beans, sour cream, a stringy mess of melted cheese, slashes of mustard and generous helpings of jalapenos, which is always nice to see. I’d put them on a different plate though - it looks too busy (£5.50). 

The coleslaw was a little disappointing and mostly left - too watery. Thicken up the mayo dressing and add a bit of Dijon would be my advice (£2.50). The side of gherkins were three fat piquant whoppers, so that was good (£1.90).

Shakes take up a whole page, with flavour combinations enticing enough to draw me back alone - fig and cinnamon, coconut and mango, stem ginger with lemon and honey, peanut butter with banana and brownies. But salted caramel was there and we all know how impossible that is to ignore. So it was ordered, delivered in a frozen metal vessel, and very much enjoyed (£5).

In an effort to boost my calorie credit before gorging, I walked over 2 miles to get to Meat & Shake from my house; I likely would again. A solid Tooting eatery and great to see on my local dining scene. I hear they have plans to expand - if I were them, I’d stick to neighbourhoods crying out for good burgers, rather than trying to compete with the well-established heavyweights up town.

Keep a hungry eye on these guys.

Liked lots: burger sloppy-ness, shakes, it's local to me
Likes less: coleslaw
Good for: good burgers that you don't have to go in town for, getting adventurous with the shakes, halal-seekers 

My rating: 3.5/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.

Note: I was invited as a guest to review this restaurant.

halloumi pasta with lemon and mint

There are few things more pleasurable than biting into the yielding flesh of a thick slab of smoky halloumi taken straight off the barbeque, blistered brown by the heat and relinquishing all its salty wonder with every bite. 

Society is now relatively accustomed to this firm and squeaky cheese traditionally made with the milk from goats and sheep and originating from Cyprus; it’s frequently used as a meat substitute in burgers and on kebab skewers, added to salads or served with vegetables. It can be eaten straight off the knife but is also often found grilled, fried or barbequed due to its unique quality of form that lends itself so well to the cooking process – it’s a cheese that doesn’t melt, it just gets a bit softer.

My father is from North Cyprus, so growing up surrounded by the fabulous Cypriot and Turkish cuisine (as well as excellent Mauritian cuisine from my mother’s side), I’m probably more accustomed to this cheese than most. And I therefore know just how versatile it can be. 

As well as the above, it is also traditionally found incorporated into bread dough and one of my favourite ways of devouring it, with pasta. This dish is one from my childhood - one of those where I’d get overly animated when I knew it was on the menu for dinner. I’ve carried it through to adulthood, frequently returning to it and sharing it with friends who have almost unanimously fallen for it at first taste. It’s one of the simplest meals in my repertoire consisting of a mere six ingredients, yet yields one of the biggest pleasure bounties.

Combining flavours of both fresh and dried mint, chicken stock and lemon juice with the saltiness of the cheese, the result is a plate of pure satiety. Serving the cheese in its grated form allows each mint laden particle to mingle with the lemony chicken juices and coat every bit of pasta. 

To make this dish vegetarian, simply replace the chicken stock with vegetable stock. Excellent eaten either hot or cold the next day, it makes the perfect accompaniment to some left over roast chicken taken on a picnic. We now just need to wait for the weather to humour us.

Halloumi Pasta with Lemon and Mint

Serves 4

200g halloumi

400g whole wheat pasta

2 litres of ready made chicken stock (or three chicken stock cubes)

2 lemons

2 tbsp dried mint

A few sprigs of fresh mint

Finely grate the cheese and mix with the dried mint. Chop a handful of the mint leaves and set aside. In the meantime, cook the pasta in the chicken stock. If you don’t have ready made stock, use three chicken stock cubes in around two litres of water. The liquid should cover the pasta by an inch or so. 

If the liquid gets too low before the pasta is cooked, add a splash more. You want most of the liquid to have been absorbed by the end, but with some still remaining.

Layer some of the grated cheese and mint in an empty shallow bowl per person. 

When the pasta is al dente, ladle half a portion into the bowl along with a little of the stock. Sprinkle another layer of the grated cheese, top with some more pasta, and finish with the final layer of cheese. Sprinkle with a generous amount of the fresh mint.

Squeeze the juice from ¼ to ½ a lemon over each bowl (depending on how much your guests like lemon – I like it a lot), and serve with a few more wedges should they wish for more.

Alfiyet olsun.

café murano, mayfair - review

It’s been a while since the efforts of a restaurant kitchen have greeted me - and subsequently shaken me by the shoulders - at the door. The babble of full-flowing conversation from every table, alongside the enticing aroma of seafood stock were the first things to strike the senses once over the threshold of Café Murano.

I don’t think it’s that common to smell the food a restaurant is cooking as soon as you walk in; perhaps ventilation systems are so good these days, and restaurants can be rather large. But it was a welcome I’d like to experience more often, like when entering a friend’s home with a hello of “something smells good”. It felt right and was indicative of the meal to come - unafraid to make itself known and for good reason.

Lunch-o-clock on a Tuesday and I couldn't spot a free table, despite sopping conditions from the mini-monsoon haemorrhaging over the city. People had reservations and they were keeping them; those without them (I assume) were free-wheeling it at the bar. I can think of few better places I’d want to be if it was wet out, or dry. Or snowing, or Med hot (I really like this place).

The design is both classy and chic, whilst achieving a completely at-ease environment. The crowd is sophisticated, often be-suited, but one I suspect find few things more enjoyable than good food with good wine and good company; it was breezy and buoyant and everyone seemed to be having a bloody great “lunch meeting”. 

It’s fronted by Angela Hartnett, as is the refined big-sister Michelin-starred Murano down the road. The term café is what differentiates the two, hinting towards a far more relaxed atmosphere, very accessible price points and a great option for a not-too-showy but suitably impressive second date (so my single companion reliably informed me).



The aperitivo of the day was something said with the sort of wonderfully thick and indecipherable Italian accent of a waiter you immediately put all your culinary faith in, the natural response being, “lovely - we'll take two please”. I later discovered it was called an Olandese Volante - kümmel, gin, plum and an Italian vermouth; it was burnished amber and very clever.

A trio of toy-sized truffle arancini were piping-hot and - what I initially thought - a touch underseasoned. Turns out my first bite was wrong (I can only put it down to the palate finishing its occupation with such a great cocktail); all subsequent mouthfuls were so spot on, we ordered another round (£3). Chunks of warm octopus with firm chickpeas, the soft crunch of pine nuts and baby gem were yielding and tasty, but could have benefited from a touch more depth in the sauce. Yet weirdly, again, it seemed to improve as I continued to eat it (£9.50). 

The cacciuccio (I’m so glad my dining partner ordered the thing we were neither able to translate nor pronounce) was a fish stew triumph; had the fish in it had a chest, I would have pinned a medal to it. A rich and deep broth with a touch of chilli, saffron and fennel, we spooned the sauce straight to our lips with great zeal whilst simultaneously lamenting over the diminishing volume. The white fish in it was just gorgeous, and the prawns were soft - really soft (I’m not sure I’ve had such soft prawns before). Served in an oven dish with a hardened and gloriously chewy thin bit of bruschetta slathered in a pesto so vibrant I’m sure it was blitzed moments before, I was still cooing over it once I got home (£8.50).

And then there was the primi - the pastas. The surface area of the linguine with lobster, garlic and chilli had a roughness substantial enough to detect on the lips; the sharp and sweet tomato sauce clinging to every microscopic crevice as though an amorous embrace (£18/£26).

The gnocchi - good grief, the gnocchi. Simply the finest texture of its form I’ve encountered - fluffy and sticky and disintegrating into a silken substance from the pressure of the tongue against the roof of the mouth. Each one browned a little on one side, lacquered with a sauce and joined by such spring time seasonal delights as morels, asparagus and wild garlic (£11/£16.50). It was still great even after an engaging catch-up left a little of it to go cold.

Only a madman would fall for the ill-fated lethargy a carb-on-carb attack almost always induces - who orders polenta as a side to pasta (apart from Italians)? I do (it was raining, remember) and thank goodness for that. How ground corn and Parmesan can be whipped up into something so light and so delicate is a little beyond me, but well done to the kitchen for that mini-triumph. Some of the best I’ve had (£3.50).

When will this gushing end? Soon - bear with me. The tiramisu was without fault (it’s such a good gauge of an Italian restaurant - £6), the scoop of salted caramel ice cream and another of cinnamon had ethereal textures (and the flavour balance of the former was so completely right), and the pink grapefruit and melon sorbets finished the whole exquisite encounter superbly (£1.75 per scoop).

Quite simply, this is my new favourite Italian in town. Granted, I have a few of note I’m yet to try but regardless, Café Murano will be difficult to top. I have little choice but to visit Murano now - oh well..

Liked lots: all of the food, great atmosphere, spot-on warm service, feels special whilst having accessible pricing, that fish stew; there is a set lunch menu of three courses for £35
Liked less: let me get back to you
Good for: a second date (so I'm told), a first date, a 23rd date, all of your dates

My rating: 4.5/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.

hedone, chiswick - review

The story behind Hedone is a rare one, if not completely unique. Swedish-born Mikael Jonsson pursued his “borderline obsession” for ingredients of the highest quality by training as a chef in his early years. But his severe allergies to a variety of food put on hold any dreams of opening his own restaurant and instead, he forged a career as a lawyer. 

During this time, Jonsson authored a food blog, Gastroville.com (now closed), demonstrating great understanding and in-depth analysis of food, whilst also advising chefs and restaurateurs where to find the best ingredients. At the age of 44, he discovered a Paleolithic diet which did not aggravate his allergies, and was finally able to make the transition from food critic and blogger to restaurateur. It was the first time the self-taught chef had worked in a commercial kitchen and after just one year, it received a coveted Michelin star.

Jonsson’s brazen confidence to dare even hope for success as an amateur chef in a city that was just starting to then (Hedone opened in 2011) - and is, still now - reeling from a culinary Big Bang, is enough to draw the curious alone. Add to this almost instant recognition and his unfiltered passion for ingredients (but minus the somewhat awkward Chiswick location), and you’re left with an offering that is difficult to ignore.

The menus at Hedone are as fluid as the red the young sommelier poured into our glasses; based on the finest ingredients the kitchen is able to land, they can change from lunch to dinner, and even during service. Because of this, there is no insight into what you might eat there on the website. The intention is to waste little and serve the very best - you see the menu for that service once you’re seated. I’ve always been drawn to a restaurant with the confidence to say ‘get settled, let us pour you some wine, and trust us to feed you well’.

Presentation was sophisticated yet playful with contrasts of colour that hinted towards a fun kitchen; the baby-pink of the beetroot and rhubarb against a wide matt-black bowl rim, the azure background to the limpid green apple sauce on a parfait, the grey-blue macaron with vibrant green filling. 

A delicate (in both form and flavour) crimson beetroot cornetto with foam-of-root piped on top of a little smoked eel was a down-in-one affair. Delivered in a wooden box and supported by wild rice which filled it, we were tersely advised by the Maitre’d - as I was taking a photo - that it needed to be eaten quickly. I understand the irritance of us bloody bloggers taking pictures of everything at the detriment of a dish that is going cold / melting / coagulating in the meantime, but please don’t dictate to me when to eat. I’m paying for this meal and I’ll enjoy it how I want (as long as it’s not hanging from a chandelier). 

That small niggle aside, the rest of the dining experience was a series of small thrills. Special mention to the gentleman with the glasses and silvering hair who I think was Head Waiter - he had a twinkle in his eye and a wonderful grin and made us laugh a good few times.

A savoury custard umami flan certainly had hints of Japan about it, with a clear bread consommé and crunchy nuggets of bread crumb, the pairing of smooth and savoury on the tongue was very complimentary.

The yolk of a duck egg, slow-poached in a sous vide, was served at the precise moment before setting takes place; a sublime physical state of buttery viscosity. The whites whipped up into a ‘cream of’, firm almost crunchy peas, and a flourish of red pepper reduction. Two cuts from a roasted guinea-fowl had tough exteriors, but pleasantly so, lubricated by a thick sauce (not a jus), with chard leaf separate from stem, and the newest of Jersey royals - an entirely unfussed but well-executed plate. And there was the bread, of which I’ve heard much about. Mikael honed his bread-making skills whilst training at Alex Croquet boulangerie in Wattignies, France - a school whose teacher is described as a ‘genius’ by Michelin. Mikael makes the batches each morning, some of which make their way to Antidote. Using the almost scientific techniques learnt from Croquet, the result is a glorious chewy and full-flavoured crust to work the jaw, an open crumb, with smooth reflective qualities around the curves of the air gaps. It’s really very good, and served with unpasteurised butter and a little salt, is a dictionary definition of what simple pleasures should be.

Both desserts were our favourite courses. The hazelnut and caramel parfait with kimono silk-thin wafers, tiny cubes of sharp apple with globules of its sauce was as well put together in its presentation as in its flavour combination. All things pink made up the second offering - rose, beetroot and rhubarb to form a floating island of sorbet atop a pearly and soft meringue base. Really well balanced, although the rose was undetectable. Probably a good thing as I’m not a great fan of floral smelling food. 

A single additional cheese course we wished to share between two (£14.50) was helpfully split across plates - five unpasteurised, gloriously funky and generous offerings of wonderful Claquebitou, Tomme Brulée, Chablis, farmhouse Camembert, and Fourme d'Ambert with extra slices of raisin bread at our request. A bonbon mound filled with liquid mango and a sesame macaron with a tangy lime and green tea filling rounded the meal off.

The double-fronted interiors give the impression of entering somewhere quite special, exclusive even. The threshold is marked by a heavy curtain once through the door, and windows are frosted to obscure the view out or in. If the intention is for clientèle to forget they’re on Chiswick High Street, it’s quite effective. Once you’ve left, you’re on your own - back through that heavy material and onto an overwhelmingly ordinary high-street, a contrast from what was just experienced.

I do feel we missed out not sitting at the bar of the open kitchen. If it wasn’t for the impish Head Waiter, the place could have felt a little cold compared to other Michelin restaurants. Had I been able to converse with Mikael himself, I expect I would have been directly privy to his - what is on paper - unquestionable passion. It also feels like the sort of place that needs more than one visit to draw an informed conclusion, with the expectation that each meal will be so different to the one before. The three-course lunch deal is a steal at £35 - I plan to return for it and do just that.

Liked lots: bread, umami flan, interiors, Head Waiter, lunch-menu value, desserts
Liked less: out-of-the-way location; being told what to do when I'm eating
Good for: seasonal eating of the very best produce; surprise menus; counter-seating to observe the kitchen

My rating: 4/5

Afiyet olsun.

 

JAPAN: 10 things to eat in Tokyo

I can't imagine there is any one single resource that lists all the places to get food in Tokyo. If it did, it would break the internet. And if it didn't break the internet, it would break the human resolve, because reading it would be like counting the population of China in that you would never reach the end. Perhaps this should be the modern-day definition of infinity - the number of restaurants in Tokyo (incidentally, I have just Googled 'how many restaurants are there in Tokyo?' and estimations say 80k compared to 15k in New York and 6k in London. So like I said, infinite).

Tokyo's topography is like a psychedelic 3D game of Tetris. It's a city made from a bazillion building blocks stacked on top of each other with that efficiency the Japanese are so good at. It rises up and out, as well as below (there are vast subterranean floors running beneath stations) to create a mind-boggling, multi-layered, three dimensional environment able to satisfy every want ever conceived.

Every door, every window, every protruding neon sign or hanging banner, every alleyway, every floor in every single building, the top and bottom (and middle) of every flight of stairs, every nondescript frontage, every unassuming flicker of light, every gap between two planks of wood - is yet another dining establishment ready to serve. They range from standing-only holes-in-the-wall, thresholds marked by a simple curtain and able to accommodate no more than five pairs of feet, to yawning cafés for long languorous lunches. A lifetime might provide enough meals to eat your way across seven of its buildings.

In a city like this, deciding where to eat by throwing a chopstick into the air (don't actually do this - very rude), heading half a kilometre in the direction its pointing towards when it lands, spinning round with your eyes closed five times, and eating wherever is closest to the point where your vision stops dancing, will more often than not land you a very good meal. After all, this is a country where the quality of the most ordinary food offering is often on a par with the part of London's dining scene we would call 'pretty decent'. 

If you are reading this post, I can safely assume that you, intrepid explorer and/or fellow food-nut, are quite like me, in that you like to do a bit of pre-holiday eating research. You want the best food for the best price, you want to make sure you're not 'settling' when there is a superstar restaurant around the corner, you want to indulge in the finest eating your finite time and budget can possibly allow, and this requires some forward planning - I get that.
 

Mika from Tokyo Food Tour

But my advice to you is, when it comes to Tokyo, don't get bogged down in this. Because almost all of it is great. Even though the restaurant you ate at yesterday fed you "the best sushi you've ever had", you can't possibly know if the place seven doors down is better because, when a country consistently churns out excellence, what's "better" just becomes arbitrary. I mean, it's just all good - you know?

But because you are (still) reading this, you probably are like me, and demand some level of guidance, a list to follow, pointers about where to even begin. It's understandable, so I've created a little something.

What's good about this list is firstly, it covers a respectable portion of Japan's vast cuisine. Secondly, it's not comprised by me alone - who still knows next to nothing about Tokyo despite spending five days there - but by people who do.

One main source is Mika Takaki from Tokyo Food Tour who showed us a few great places around Ginza one evening. She's a cook and caterer, lived and worked in San Francisco for a few years, and is able to personalise food tours to whatever it is you're interested in; Mika doesn't come cheap, but does come highly recommended.

The other is Japanese chef, author, sommelier and shochu advisor Yukari Sakomoto. I came across a short interview in a travel magazine about her favourite spots in Tokyo and visited a few. I have then added a couple of cheap-and-cheerful entries I pre-holiday-researched myself when I was under the misguided impression that these would be lifesavers, as Tokyo was the most expensive city in the universe. Which I quickly realised after landing, is a massive misconception.

My final bit of advice when visiting Tokyo: surrender your senses to the onslaught of stimuli and just go with it, whatever 'it' turns out to be for you.


10 Things to Eat in Tokyo

1) Kushikatsu

What: aka kushiage - lightly breaded and fried skewers of - well, anything

Restaurant: Dengana Kushikatsu  

Where: 3-16-10 Shinbashi, Minato-ku, Tokyo Map 
Hours: Mon - Fri 11:30 - 14:00 / 16:30 - 23:30 Sat - Sun 12:00 - 23:30   
Price: the below plus one large beer = ¥2100 (appx. £12 / $20)

Give a good kushikatsu chef an old leather belt and he could probably breadcrumb and fry it up into something you would want to put into your mouth. Very fine crumbs are used in this coating, and the fry is quick and hot resulting in a crisp shell concealing briefly cooked ingredients beneath. We worked our way through a mixture of meat and vegetable skewers: pickled ginger, lotus root, smelt fish, shrimp, mochi (glutinous rice balls), onion, small green peppers (like Padron peppers), and a second round of pickled ginger because it was deep pink and gorgeous. As well as a plate of pork tripe cooked in a sweet viscous miso sauce and furnished with spring onions - why not. The dipping sauce for the skewers is dark, sweet and shared - you submerge them whole, before biting only. The sign above it roughly translates to "double-dip and prepare to be skewered". Rightly so. The menu is fully Japanese so I would advise pointing at the glass counter at what you fancy, learning the words for ingredients you particularly enjoy, or using that very useful phrase - 'nani ga osusume des ka?' (what do you recommend?).

Recommended by Mika.

2) Sashimi

What: thinly carved and spanking fresh raw meat (usually seafood)

Restaurant: Uokin Izakaya  

Where: 2-19-7 Shinbashi, Minato-ku, Tokyo (1 min walk East of Shinbashi Station) Map 

Hours: Only open in the evenings, 17.00 - 11.30  

Price: the below plus two glasses of sake = ¥3000 (appx. £17 / $29)
Uokin has a few outlets in Tokyo and we were informed by Mika that it's very much an izagaya (casual eatery) of-the-moment. Its specialities lie within seafood (hence the sign) and either has a bar at which to stand and eat at ground level, or you can go up a floor for table seating.

It's the first I've been on my feet whilst having my dinner in a restaurant (a common occurrence in Tokyo - good for space-saving I suspect) and you know, I barely noticed. It was probably all that sake.

An okomase (chef's selection of the best seafood of that day) sashimi platter presented us with some glistening produce: tairagai (like a giant scallop) with an iridescent shell; oysters with spring onions, daikon (Japanese radish) and a touch of chilli paste; sawara (Spanish mackerel); tai (snapper); shime saba (cured mackerel); aji (horse mackerel) and maguro (tuna).

Before bar-hopping to the next place, we finished with a soup (as Japanese cuisine so often dictates - contrary to the the west which generally starts with it) - of seaweed with tofu. Warm and comforting, full of calcium and righteousness.

Again, a fully Japanese menu. "Okomase sashimi, kudasai?" will get you a platter similar to what we had.

Recommended by Mika.

3) Tempura

What: seafood or vegetables battered and deep fried

Restaurant: Tendon Tenya Tempura

Where: 3-9-4 Ginza, Chuo-ku, Tokyo Map

Hours: Mon - Sun 11.00 - 23.30  

Price: the below two set meals with an extra side = ¥1600 (appx. £9 / $29)
If you haven’t already noticed, the Japanese quite like deep-frying things. Probably the most internationally recognised of this genre is tempura. If you want to - particularly in the upmarket district of Ginza - you can spend upwards of £150 a head for what is essentially a very simple concept (the best ones always are though, aren’t they). But don’t let that simplicity fool you. Good tempura should start with quality ingredients destined for the plunge, have a light and crisp batter, and not be greasy - I suspect it’s more difficult than it sounds. Tendon Tenya is a respectable and exedingly good value chain that manages to achieve this, and much-loved by locals. The menu is full of set meals (also available in English), with a choice of carbs to help bulk it out including rice and (hot or cold) udon, along with a range of extra toppings or additional sides, including a tasty little octopus and seaweed salad.

Filling the bellies of two big-eaters with good food for under a tenner in one of the poshest parts of town - credit where it's due.

4) Kushiyaki

What: things that are skewered and grilled over coals - aka yakitori (usually when it's chicken)

Restaurant: Mitsumasa

Where: 3-19-6, Shinbashi, Minato-ku, Tokyo (2 min walk from Shinbashi station) Map

Hours: Mon - Fri 17:00 - 23:00, Sat 17:00 - 22:00, Closed Sundays 

Price: the below plus some tea = ¥3000 (appx. £17 / $29)
If you’re the sort of person that is quite into the bits of the animal so often cast aside as waste, this is the place for you. Even if you’re not, I urge you to try it. Mitsumasa is a casual but well turned out offering that heaves with uniformly black-suited salary man kicking back after a long day in the office, with row after row of meaty skewers straight from the coals - and a beer, or four. The uncooked meat is displayed in the glass cabinet and is an ode to all things pig, for it is this animal they specialise in. We had pig skin (yum), pig tongue (ok then), pig heart (aren’t these going to be put into humans soon?), the less conquered parts of a chicken’s anatomy including the gizzard (crunchy) and knuckle (as pleasant as I assume chewing through a baby's finger to be), chicken meatballs (phew), pickles with boiled pig intestine (go on then), and pig liver (strong, bitter, iron). I am generally pretty ok with tripe from sheep and cows and chickens, but when it comes to eating the organs of something else that eats meat, I wince a little. But it’s a firm favourite with the Japanese and if you truly want to embrace the cuisine in it’s fullest form, I would give it a go.

Recommended by Mika.

5) Sake

What: Japan's national social lubricant - a clear and alcoholic beverage made from fermented rice

Restaurant: Kuri Sake Bar

Where: Tony Building, 2F, 6-4-15 Ginza, Chuo-ku, Tokyo Map

Hours: Mon - Thu 18:00 - 03:00, Fri 18:00 - 03:30, Sat 18:00 - 00:30, closed Sun and every third Sat 

Price: three tastings and some nibbles = ¥1000 (appx. £6 / $10)

For those prepared to knock elbows on the hunt for some of the country's best sake, Kuri is a bar specialising in just that, with a weekly changing menu of over 150 varieties behind the counter.

The offering here is junmai meaning made solely with rice and water, without any additional distilled alcohol. They range from the freshest, just-pressed, unfiltered namazake (unpasteurised sake - kept refrigerated) to aged bottles from all over the country. The patterns at the bottom of the cups are designed to induce coos over the clarity of the tipple.

Before I sampled these, I thought I didn’t like sake. Turns out, I do like sake - I in fact love it. Forget anything you’ve had outside Japan - you won't have had access to true namazake as its lack of pasteurisation means it doesn’t last long enough to reach overseas in a saleable condition. And let me tell you, it’s a taste revelation.

Go for a  flight of three tasters with some nibbles, perhaps opening with ‘nani ga osusume des ka?' (what do you recommend?). If the response is the Japanese for 'what do you like?', I'm afraid you're on your own. But I'm sure you'll be fine.

Recommended by Mika.

6) Japanese Breakfast

What: a combination of things you've probably not come across before

Restaurant: I have no idea of the name

Where: close to Yarakucho Station - look out for railway arches Map 

Hours: they seemed to start packing away the breakfast items around 10 - 10.30

Price: natto, rice, miso, nori, egg and tea for two = ¥550 (appx. £3 / $5) 

There is something to be said for a nation of people who can think of few better ways to start their day than with a stringy, stinking mess of natto - fermented soya bean. Pick some up with your chopsticks and marvel at the mucus-like stretchiness, with sticky strings that float suspended in mid-air still attached to your utensils; the need to bat them away after every mouthful can look like a violent tick to the uninitiated.

Into this, stir raw egg and chopped spring onions, mix with a bowl of rice, add some sheets of nori (seaweed), accompany with dried fish and life-affirming miso and you have the makings of a rather splendid breakfast.

There is no presence of this restaurant on the internet, and I usefully didn’t take a picture of its front. We found it by asking the Tourist Information office behind Yarakucho Station where we could enjoy a traditional Japanese breakfast - this would be a good place to start. What I can tell you is that it’s small, and for the remainder of the day is a conveyor belt sushi restaurant. 

The main point of this point is that you should experience a traditional Japanese breakfast in Tokyo, whether it’s here or somewhere else.

(The other half is convinced he recalls its precise location, which is what’s displayed on the map link above - I do think he’s pretty close if not spot on. Good luck.)

7) Sushi

What: the most internationally recognised part of Japanese cuisine

Restaurant: Kyubey

Where: 7-6, Ginza 8-chome, Chuo-ku, Tokyo Map

Hours: Mon - Sat 11:30 - 14:00 / 17:00 - 22:00, closed Sun and public holidays 

Price: two omakase lunches with tea = ¥11,800 (appx. £68 / $115)
Yes, you can eat a sushi breakfast in Tsukiji Market at six in the morning, the real crowd-pullers being Sushi Dai and Daiwa Sushi. And arguably, it probably is some of the freshest in the world, considering the meat has travelled a matter of yards from wholesale (mere hours before) to chopstick. But can that level of freshness really be so different from a quality sushi restaurant just a 15 minute walk away? The answer to that is of course, no. So forgo the three hour queues of tourists (no one wants too many of them first thing in the morning), and enjoy sushi at the countless number of other great restaurants in the area, nay, the city. Kyubey is one of these. Round the corner from Tsukiji (almost), you can marvel at the deft manipulation of rice and the precise preparation of seafood by the itamae (chefs), from the counter seating. And you want fresh? The legs of the prawns were moving and their mouths foaming little bubbles moments before their heads were ripped off and entrails removed before our very eyes. What theatre. We grinned maniacally through the following (from top left): buttery salmon, spotted mackerel, squid with salt and a momentary touch of lime, velvety sea urchin (my first time - I loved it), those prawns (crunchy), scallop, otoro (the fattiest part of tuna belly - picture missing), bonito with fresh ginger and the tiniest scrape of raw garlic (look at that colour), cooked and coated unagi (eel), thin and crisp daikon and shiso (perilla leaf) sandwiches, sweet egg custard, vegetable maki, and miso. 'Go chi so sama', indeed - it was glorious; nothing in this country has come close.

Recommended by Yukari.

8) Ramen

What: Chinese-style wheat noodles served in a meat or fish based broth, often flavoured with soy or miso, topped with all manner of tasty treats

Restaurant: Naokyu

Where: Toshiba Build. B2, 5-2-1, Ginza (Shinbashi station's underground shopping centre) Map
Hours: Mon - Fri 11:00 - 23:00, Sat - Sun and holidays 11:00 - 22:00
Price: two bowls of ramen and some gyoza = ¥1990 (appx. £12 / $20)
Whilst the best we can hope for in the UK is a Boots meal deal where they still have Innocent on the shelf, or if we're lucky, a Pret, station-eating in Japan is nothing to be scoffed at; it's synonymous with quality meals of excellent value.

The train stations in Tokyo have vast malls beneath, ready to breach the surface with the volume of shops and restaurants on offer (if ever in doubt in this city, head below ground or up some stairs and you're sure to stumble across something great); Naokyu is one of these. Established around 100 years ago (one of the oldest in Tokyo, they claim), it serves traditional ramen in pork and chicken broths in a typically casual noodle-joint environment. The tantan-men (a dish originating from Sichuan cuisine) was hot and spicy, a gathering of ground pork cooked in miso with sesame and some greens. It did wonders at blasting away the cold I was suffering from. Koku-uma ramen, with slices of pork belly, bamboo shoots, thin noodles and seasoned with soy was also very good, but the tamago (egg) should have had a runny yolk.

Dining on noodles tends to be a quick-fix affair in Tokyo - there are endless vending machine restaurants densely packed around station exits to - very speedily and cheaply - fill the bellies of salary-men (more often than not, inhaling their noodles whilst standing at a bar) on their way home. Naokyu is a good option to slow it down a bit - take a seat and savour the meal. Our bowls of bone-warming elixir were very well-received; the cacophony of sucking and slurping from the fully Japanese clientèle around us hinted towards the same.

9) Bread and Pastries

What: Tokyo has a lot of boulangeries and patisseries, and they're really good at them

Restaurant: Viron

Where: Tokia Building, 1F, 2-7-3 Marunouchi, Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo (near Tokyo station) Map
Hours: Mon - Sun: Bakery 10:00 - 21:00, Bar 10:00 - 23:00, Brasserie Lunch 11:30 - 14:00, Dinner 18:00 - 23:30. Closed 1st Jan and holidays
Price: the below = ¥3510 (appx. £20 / $35)
The Japanese don't half love their bread. More often than not, it will be pristine white and highly processed, rather than the rustic, malty loaves dusted with oats and speckled with seeds we're so good at producing here.

But there are quite a few skilled bakeries turning out all sorts of French pastries, boules and brioche with an expert hand. Viron is one of these, with a glass cabinet creaking under it's own weight of stuffed rolls and sticks, pastries and patisseries able to add a kilo to muffin-tops through a hard stare alone. They import flour from France (where they also have a presence) to make Viron’s signature baguette, of which they've won awards for.

We had an entirely brown but very good breakfast of coffee, two chocolate studded viennoise, a big pain au chocolate, a crunchy and sweet Kouing Aman (originally from Brittany - crisp caramelised shell with soft buttery layers within), and a sundried tomato fougasse. Pass the fibre bar.

There's outdoor seating and a lot of space inside, and it doubles up as a brasserie open for lunch and dinner if you fancy adding a bit more colour to your plate. Located right next to Tokyo station, it's a prime spot for a morning pick-me-up before heading on the Shinkansen (bullet train).

Word of warning, coffee that isn't standard filter or drip (always served with a pot of cream) is something that is a little pricey in Japan - a cappuccino and a latte came in at close to £8.

Recommended by Yukari.

10) Department Store Food Halls

What: the basement food halls of Tokyo's department stores have a global reputation for a reason

Restaurant: Mitsukoshi Department Store

Where: 1-4-1 Nihonbashimuromachi, Chūō, Tokyo Map
Hours: Daily 10–7, basements until 8
Price: varies considerably
This this branch of Tokyo's first depato (department store), also called hyakkaten (hundred-kinds-of-goods emporium), is the HQ of the international Mitsukoshi chain, and it's impressive.

Descend to the basement food hall and prepare to become disorientated by the scale, diversity and sheer sensory onslaught of nearly half an acre of the world's choicest comestibles. The space is filled with the noise from the drawn-out Japanese trader battle cries of 'IRRASHAIMASEEEEE!' (welcome!) and there are free samples of absolutely everything. From German wursts and confectionary moulded into chrysanthemums, to white triangle sandwiches filled with whipped cream and sliced strawberries and £120 muskmelons - if it can be consumed, you will find it here.

Grab some things to eat - perhaps a bento box followed by a decadent dessert - and enjoy up a few floors in the Mitsukoshi roof garden.

Dining observations I made in Tokyo

• A lot of restaurants are smoking, but ventilation systems tend to be so good that it's easy not to notice. Many have designated no-smoking areas.
• Your bill is often brought to the table with the food (or when you ask for it) and payment is usually made at the till they'll have near the entrance. It's rare the payment is made at the table.
• When you do go to pay (both in restaurants or any shop), there will usually be a small tray at the cash desk. You are to put your payment (cash or card) on this tray, but the change will usually be given to you directly.
• If you want to grab the attention of the waiter, use sumimasen (excuse me).
• There is no tipping in Japan - pay what's on the bill and nothing more.
• You will usually be given an oshibori (moist towel - often hot) once you're seated - use this to wipe your hands and as a serviette for your meal - a lot of restaurants seem to not have any on the table.
• It's good etiquette to pour a drink for your companion and not yourself.
• Never leave your chopsticks sticking out of a bowl of rice.
• It is perfectly acceptable - in fact encouraged - to slurp your noodles very noisily - it translates as you enjoying your food.
• If you're cool, you eat sushi with your fingers. Turn it upside down and only dip the topping into the soy, not the rice. Sashimi is with chopsticks though.
• People don't really eat while walking around in Japan - so street-food isn't common. If you've purchased something on the go, it's more polite to remain stationary or find somewhere to perch until you've finished it.

"If I had to eat one city's food for the rest of my life, every day, it would have to be Tokyo. And I think the majority of chefs you ask that question to would answer the same way" - Anthony Bourdain.

Related articles:
JAPAN: onsen etiquette - a guide to taking a traditional public (and naked) bath
JAPAN: Tsukiji fish market tuna auction - 10 FAQ's answered
JAPAN: tea ceremony in Kyoto

Afiyet olsun.