淳舍酒店

Asakusa is a second hometown for the chef, who has lived here since his apprenticeship. He inherited both spirit and skill, along with tools and serving ware, from his mentor. He reveres the old teachings of the sushi world but does add a few twists of his own. He adds sweet potato shochu to rich soy syrup; to rolled omelette, he adds soy milk. The character for the chef’s surname of ‘Oku’ developed from a combination of the characters for ‘house’, ‘rice’ and ‘palm of hand’; a sign, he contends, that he was destined to run a place where he would fashion rice meals with his hands.

Black, white and orange are the tricolore of ‘Watanabe-ism.’ Black represents faith that cannot be tainted; white, the freedom to become any colour; and orange, the flame manipulated by the chef. On offer here is a fusion of French and Edo food cultures. Sobagaki is emulsified using French techniques; local Japanese elements include kaminari-okoshi, a roasted and flavoured mochi cracker; and monaka, a sweet of azuki bean paste sandwiched between crisp wafers. Watanabe-ism has deep roots in Asakusa-Komagata.

‘Tonkatsu is food for the masses’, explains the second-generation chef, as he aims to serve up fare that is familiar and comforting. Copper pots polished till gleaming and plain wooden counters display a craftsman’s spirit. Two pots are used: one containing hot oil and the other cooler oil. Pork loin is shorn of extra fat and thinly battered. Tonkatsu is the star attraction, so no meat is added to the pork miso soup. As the chef works, a photo of his father in chef’s whites watches over him.

This family has been serving onigiri in Asakusa for three generations. Ingredients are arrayed inside a glass case, as at a sushi shop, to be formed into onigiri on the spot. Offerings range from salmon and dried plum to rarer items such as herring roe pickled in sake lees and opossum shrimp preserved and simmered in sweetened soy sauce. Offering a wide range of ingredients allows customers to choose based on their physical condition; the area was once home to numerous bars and pubs, so customers would drop in for morsels to soothe constitutions punished by a night on the town.

Asakusa Hirayama hangs out its shop curtain near Kappabashi; the calligraphy is done by the chef’s grandmother, a calligraphy teacher, expressing her joy in her grandson becoming an independent restaurateur. The counter seating harks back to his background as a kappo cook and his cheerful demeanour makes guests feel welcome. Soba is preceded by standards like jellied broth of conger eel or stew of duck breast. Tempura items are deep-fried one by one, as good as you’d find in a tempura specialty shop. The 100% buckwheat soba noodles, prepared with homemade flour made with unpolished buckwheat,

Beloved in Asakusa for three generations, this yoshoku restaurant treats demi-glace sauce as the soul of its kitchen. The most popular dish here is beef stew. Omurice is served with a choice of demi-glace or ketchup, a nod to the legacy shared between the former chef and his guests. The restaurant’s logo, a medieval-style shield adorned with the French tricolour, was inspired by a gift from a regular — a gesture that speaks to the warmth and goodwill of Tokyo’s traditional neighbourhoods.

A veteran eel shop loved by Asakusa locals since the early years of the 20th century. The restaurant is named after the previous proprietor, Hatsutaro; by happy coincidence, ‘ogawa’ means ‘little river’, the favoured habitat of eels. The current proprietor’s wife runs the restaurant with her family, preparing kabayaki with a sauce recipe handed down from the founder. It is a pleasure to wait, enjoying appetizers with sake, while the chef grills your eel. The many ‘senjafuda’, slips of paper posted on shrine pillars by worshippers, attest to the shop’s many loyal customers.