Perfect snacks for a Friday evening train ride home…
The package on the left is notable, and not only for its name — oichiizu, a Japanese mash up of oishi (tasty) and cheese. It's a kind of string cheese made in Hokkaido that's been marinaded in shoyu (soy sauce).
Goes well with sake. Goes well with Beaujolais Nouveau too.
The warren of streets around Kanda Station has always been one of Tokyo's quintessential old-school carousing districts. But change is arriving even here among the traditional watering holes…
and there's no better example than Brasserie le Zinc. Equal parts wine bar, bistro and salaryman "standing bar," Zinc — it's pronounced the French way, "Zank" — sits halfway along one of the narrowest alleys in the area. You'd barely notice it among the modest izakaya taverns on either side, were it not for the glowing rotisserie machine by the entrance.
Inside, though, you find this 50-year-old two-storey wooden building has been refurbished to match its current incarnation: serving surprisingly good French brasserie cuisine with a strong Basque accent and a highly affordable range of wine.
Downstairs you stand and nurse your drinks at upturned barrels or prop up the counter — yes, it is made of zinc and white tiles, salvaged second-hand from a now-defunct Parisian bistro — which runs along the narrow open prep kitchen.
The mismatched tables and chairs on the second floor have likewise seen better days, but seem to fit the old timber-frame building perfectly. The menu, chalked over one entire wall, is not just extensive, it's a lot more sophisticated than you'd expect from the neighborhood.
Chef Takai — that's him on the right in the photo — spent three years in Europe, most of that time in the Pays Basque close to the Spanish border. He bakes his own focaccia and quiche, stuffs his own homemade garlic sausages…
…and produces excellent, hearty farmhouse dishes such as lamb terrine, cassoulet or axoa, a Basque specialty made from ground beef and lots of spicy Espelette pepper.
He also has plenty of lighter recipes for the summer months. The marinated ayu sweetfish hits the spot just right, especially with a glass of chilled Chardonnay (¥500 for a well-filled glass)…
and his lamb terrine or smoked duck pair nicely with the Pays d'Oc Pinot Noir (also ¥500).
The house wine (from ¥380) is even more affordable; and there is also a wide selection of local and Belgian beer (from ¥500). Ditto with the food menu, which boasts little over ¥1,000. These are honest prices that reflect the neighborhood and the spending power of the local clientele — and in no way diminish the quality of the food and drink.
Before heading over to Kanda, a couple of caveats are in order. The temperature inside Zinc is hot enough at the best of times if you find yourself standing close to the rotisserie; in summer it can be nigh-on unbearable. But if you're eyeing those tables upstairs, be aware that they are invariably booked solid, especially on weekdays. Just as you'd expect in this salaryman territory and with food this good.
Here's a map…
Taken from my current column in The Japan Times...
Arriving at Iri — as introduced in my Japan Times column today — in the evening, all you notice are the huge windows, covering almost the entire facade of the low, free-standing house. Your gaze is drawn inside to the gleaming, spotless kitchen, the chefs at work, the counter seats and the dining room beyond...
The lines are clean; it feels spacious and contemporary.
In daytime, though, you see clearly that it's actually a traditional wooden residential house, probably 50 or 60 years old but beautifully refurbished.
You see the pillars, beams and ceiling boards, and the corners where the wattle and daub walls are exposed...
But mostly it feels all feels comfortable, organic, contemporary.
Just like the food. The basic ¥1,800 lunch starts with a generous serving of antipasti, including plenty of marinated vegetables and prosciutto sliced freshly off the ham.
You get a choice of main courses — basically pasta, fish or meat/chicken. On this occasion I plumped for the spaghetti, which was tossed with morsels of lightly cooked madai snapper and spring greens. It was seasoned so subtly I had to call for an extra sprinkle of salt and pepper (very unusual for me).
And that, apart from coffee, was it. Not exactly generous for the price, and clearly not aimed at the grab-a-quick-pasta-lunch-for-under-¥1,000 office crowd. But that's because there aren't many offices around here, and the clientele are mostly non-working ladies with the time and wherewithal to lunch at leisure and without too much concern for the bottom line.
At dinner it's a different demographic and a different feel: more couples, more romantic. At dinner last month (the set ¥4,800 menu) we nibbled on home-baked bread...
and a slightly more elaborate mixed antipasti plate.
Great pasta: hearty, home-made strozzapreti — don't you love the name: Italian for "priest choker" — topped with a rich, meaty ragu of wild boar meat generously sprinkled with Parmesan cheese.
Followed by an excellent acqua pazza...
And then beef tagliata: seared, sliced and arranged with rocket greens and shavings of Parmesan. Not a delicate dish but beautifully prepared. Equal parts rustic and artistic.
We passed on the cheese platter and moved onto dessertand coffee.
And instead of lingering with digestifs, we decided to head down the hill for a snifter or two at San-Sun... But that's for another separate post...
The small, buzzy wine bar that goes by the unusual name of Ahiru Store — which I introduced in my JT column on Friday — stands on the corner of a quiet side street off the long Tomigaya shopping street that connects Shibuya with Yoyogi Hachiman Station. It's a good 10 minute walk from either end, and well off most people's beaten track. But there are plenty of people, myself among them, who think it's definitely worth the extra effort to get there...
Through the back window you see the wine — three dozen or so bottles, all "bio" (i.e. organic, biodynamic or naturally fermented), just about all from France, and all priced very affordably.
In the window next to the door you see the bread — all baked in house, 7 or 8 kinds each day fresh out of the oven: campagnes and baguettes to go with the range of home-cooked bar snacks, and savory herb- or fruit-spiked loaves that are just fine for nibbling on just as is, while you sip your wine.
As mentioned, I almost always order the grissini bread sticks, which come with slices of prosciutto draped over them. And there's usually a nice warming potage or chowder — here a seafood soup that's almost bouillabaisse-rich — that demands a basket of the excellent campagne.
Owner Saito-san makes his own sausages, hanging the pork, grinding it by hand and stuffing them himself. They're not just tasty, they're hefty too. Served with a cold potato salad, that's plenty for two to get stuck into (though by no means impossible to polish off solo).
The menu is up on the blackboard on the wall above the kitchen: drinks list on the left; bread on the right; and snacks/cooked foods in the middle. Most of the dishes are put together by Saito-san's sister, Wakako, and she does really good simple hearty country cooking.
I need to go back and get a proper portrait of the two of them together — they're always too busy to stop and pose whenever I drop in — but in the interim, here's a couple of Saito-san.
And how did this place get its name Ahiru ("duck") Store? It's nothing to do with the menu; and a lot to do with his nickname. He'll tell you the full story himself perhaps, if you're there at the counter late one evening and he has some quiet time to chat...
Be warned: Ahiru Store only has seats for 8 and standing room for the same again. You can reserve seats no later than 6:30 pm. So either get there early or be prepared to wait.
Here's a map link...
At this time of year we don't need too much of an excuse for a visit to the Isshiki area of Hayama. After all it has one of the nicest beaches on that whole stretch of coast. But on this occasion we left our bathing gear at home: we were off for lunch at Il Rifugio.
It's a beautiful tranquil setting: a Taisho-era traditional wooden house set in a carefully manicured garden.
We'd booked a table on the verandah, where we could watch the big black butterflies and fat bottle-blue dragonflies flitting through the trees.
Our antipasti: a rich creamy corn potage with a very faint hint of wasabi; home-produced ham made from local Hayama-ton pork; and nama-shirasu (fresh whitebait, a specialty on this coast) in garlic-rich oil, served with crisp Sardinian pane carasau.
Our primi: bavettine with a rich red sauce of local watari-gani crab. This was great. Not just because the tomatoes were fresh — and so was the crab. Just look at the volume. This was a serious serving of pasta, not the anemic little mounds you get at too many Italian restaurants in Tokyo. Plus they give you the tongs you need to extract all the crab meat from the carapace and pincers. They also provide wet towels (unscented — extra bonus points) inviting you to pick up those chunks of crab, to suck and dig in, and lick your fingers. Outstanding and well worth the ¥300 supplement.
Less brilliant was the black sesame-encrusted foccacia that came with the pasta — as if we needed even more starch at this point in the meal.
For our main dish we chose the fritti of aka-ashi ebi prawns and aka-ika squid — like all the seafood, it's fresh from the fishing port at Sajima, just down the coast — and zucchini. Nice crispy batter, not too oily and nothing at all like tempura — although the salt was sprinkled on a bit too heavily (for my liking, though a Sardinian might approve). But the Sardinian rosé (Serralori) made an excellent counterfoil, with its slightly tannic-medicinal final notes.
To close, an intense orange-infused creme brulée. The upper surface was just the way I like it, only lightly browned and still moist — much preferable to the usual blow-torch crisped glaze.
Il Rifugio has been open almost exactly a year now — as we were reminded by a commemorative vine placed prominently by the entrance...
It's a lovely place, once associated with the imperial family — whose summer besso villa is just down the road — and very nicely converted to accommodate tables and chairs (and shoes)...
And they're lovely people, chef Watanabe and his lady, very welcoming and friendly. He was happy to chat about his time in Sardinia and how he took the name Il Rifugio from the restaurant where he lived and worked during his time there.
Here's the Il Rifugio web site...
Here's a map link...
Food writer and restaurant reviewer for the Japan Times contact: foodfile (at) me (dot) com
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