A very cool restaurant…Shimbashi

After a hard day of climbing at pump2 sustenance is a must. So, off we toodle to Shimbashi (a common point in between where we who climb live) and having no idea of what’s good, we wonder around trying to find a nice restaurant. My climbing buddy is attempting to take me down bigger streets, where he thinks there will be more restaurants, while I’m trying to go down smaller roads…yes, possibly dark Japanese alleys. Not dodgy at all until I get there. Anyway the idea is: small alleyways = small cool restaurant…

So, we’re wondering around the back streets of Shimbashi, and there are indeed lots of little restaurants around. More importantly I see one, which has a bit of a shabby exterior and a big glass front window. Through the big window, the first thing I noticed was the fact that it was very smoky. It was also crowded and alive with business men in suits some sitting at small cramped tables around the edge of the room, and further in the background the restaurant looked as though it disappeared off to the right, possibly to more Japanese-style dining. The centre piece however, was a single cook wearing a yukata, looking very sweaty, sitting in front of a large open barbeque, on to which he was throwing a selection of the prepared items that were laid out on display in front of the barbeque, much like a butchers shop. There was a low counter surrounding the display of uncooked food and people sitting at the counter on small chairs. I looked on in sheer glee as the sweaty cook reached out for a large utensil which looked much like an oar, put a plate of cooked food on it, then extended out the oar parading it in front of the people seated at the counter starting from the far right of him, swinging it around until it probably would have completed a full 180 degree turn, if it had not been intercepted by on of the customers who had presumably ordered it.

There was no way I was going to try and find a different restaurant. THIS is the one for me! So we went in and were offered a place at the counter, which I was ecstatic about because this was where all the fun was, and there was also the potential for pointing at things if we didn’t order from the menu. It was very smoky, and reeked of charcoal, but the atmosphere was great: the sizzling of the fire and the energy of the discussions going on around us added to all the other waiters wearing yukata I actually felt like I was in a Japanese restaurant rather than a pseudo-Japanese restaurant with western décor.

I was able to order stuff that I could see in front of me an was written entirely in either hiragana or katakana, the other stuff just read ‘kanji-kanji’ or better yet ‘kanji kanji-for-chicken-kanji kanji’ which meant that I couldn’t shout at mr. cook what it was I wanted, and as the food display was 2-3 rows deep pointing wouldn’t have been soo much of a help unless I too were armed with a large stick like the cook was. So, we ordered a few things and sipped the beer while we watched the components of our soon-to-be-meal being cooked. What we had ordered was not going to be enough for a whole meal, and faced with the whole kanji issue, I ended up asking the Japanese guy sitting next to me. Who appeared to be on a date with the lady he was sitting with, but who had just gone to the loo, so:
Me: Sumemasen!
Gentleman looks at me as if to say: ‘you want me?!? Why?!’
Me: kono kanji, yomi-katta wa dou desu ka?
[pointing at something on the menu which had the character for chicken on it. Also, I think the question actually makes little sense in Japanese but it gets the idea across.]
Gentleman: ‘nani nani nani’
[sorry, I have the memory of a goldfish with short-term memory loss and thus have no recollection of what he said to me…]

This goes on for a few more things…and I apologise to him lots while thanking him for his help as his lady friend returns. He’s very nice though and asks if we need any other help…But in my usual arrogantly dismissive manner I politely decline, saying that we’ll be fine, knowing full-well that in 3minutes we won’t be.

We watch the cook like hawks, waiting for our dish to be ready. mr. cook carefully arranged our little fish on a plate, garnished it then placed it on the food paddle. Then, did his graceful swinging manoeuvre, at which point my eyes lit up and I sat up straight ready to receive our dishes on the proffered paddle. This whole cycle continued through the night, interrupted by either me trying to get a waiter to tell me how to pronounce some of the other kanji on the menu or the odd bit of food envy, where other peoples food looked really good so we tried to order what they had.

We even tried some little parcels of natto (fermented soya beans) which was very nice, despite most peoples claims it’s an acquired taste.

At the end of the meal our bill was some how calculated. I guess some of the other yukata wearing guys were noting down what we ate. So, then we left the coolest restaurant that I have found so far in Japan…My clothes were impregnated with the smell of barbeque for weeks.