Images of neon-lit bar streets, serene temples, and clouds of cherry blossoms have long enticed travelers to Japan. But the last couple of years have seen the country’s popularity rise to unseen heights, with a record 37 million foreign tourists visiting in 2024. While last month we launched in Osaka (a culinary powerhouse in its own right) and have published dispatches from Kyoto, we’ve been writing about the food scene in Tokyo for a decade, watching the city evolve with each passing year. We know that, for all its allure, Tokyo can feel overwhelming to navigate, especially when it comes to food. Countless izakayas, sushi bars, noodle joints, and cafes are tucked into every corner – where do you even begin?

Tokyo is a fast-paced city with many opportunities for work but also a plethora of places to destress and find comfort. In the heart of Kayabacho, a business district in central Tokyo, sits Latino, a prime destination for some of the best comfort food the city has to offer. On the surface, the name can be a bit misleading: the restaurant does have great Mexican food, a rarity in the city, but it also has a myriad of fantastic fusion curries. To get there, we walk past the office buildings and up a quieter street to a strip of restaurants serving everything from Thai to Korean. We hunt for the restaurant’s unassuming green awning and go in.

Shibuya is one of the busiest areas of the sprawling megacity of Tokyo, home to department stores, the famous Scramble – the world’s busiest walkway, and a whole host of eateries for the masses of tourists that come to play. In amongst all of this lies Shirubee, a hidden izakaya. This casual style of Japanese restaurant, featuring a smorgasbord of different comfort foods, is one of our favorite ways to dine, making it possible to taste and share many small dishes, much like Spanish tapas. There is no signage from the street and no instructions on how to find the place. Even Google Maps is incorrect about where the entrance is. Unless you have been taken there before, it is almost impossible to locate.

Masami Sugihara likely wouldn’t call herself a chef. A licensed food consultant, fermented foods sommelier, classically trained chef, and concert violinist, she’s unsatisfied with wearing a single hat, having played different professional roles behind the counter and on stage for most of her adult life. During lunch service, she sports an apron gifted to her by the waitstaff at one of Tokyo’s best luxury hotels – a venue she frequents as a violinist, not a caterer. Her restaurant, Sakanaya no Daidokoro, in Musashi Koganei, translates simply to “Fishmonger’s Kitchen.” It’s a fitting name that reflects the type of home-style Japanese food served here and speaks to the seafood-only main dish selection.

To reach our evening’s destination, we amble our way down Ura Shibuya-dōri (which translates to “Shibuya backstreet”) and pass by a litany of small eateries and charming hole-in-the-wall bars. This quaint neighborhood is just off the main drag, tucked in behind the more mainstream domain of tourist restaurants and the accompanying crowds. Here the streets are filled with stylish people in their twenties to thirties, young families, and salary men looking for a more suburban life beyond the hustle and bustle of Shibuya. As we pass by we notice a mix of great independent locales, from cheap Chinese eateries to fancy tuna restaurants to funky izakayas filled with locals.

Some parts of the Mitaka Chige Club’s name obviously ring true. It is one of many restaurants and bars clustered around Mitaka station’s North exit. Jiggae (often written “chige” in Japanese katakana), a shockingly red Korean soup with a gochujang base, occupies a substantial portion of the main menu. The “club” aspect becomes evident with the palpable feeling that this whole experience is carried by a small group. Passionate individuals on both sides of the counter are the lifeblood of the Mitaka Chige Club.

In Japan, a bowl of noodles is more than just a tasty dish – it can speak to you of regional pride and culinary craft. It's art, distinguished by the broth's depth, noodle texture and the symphony of toppings. While Tokyo leans towards a subtler, often chicken-infused broth, head north to Sapporo and you'll find bowls brimming with a miso-rich, hearty concoction, tailor-made for warding off the chill. In Hakata, the Fukuoka district gifts us with tonkotsu ramen, where pork bones are simmered down to a broth that's as unapologetically porky as it is irresistible. In this city, every slurp is a testament to Japan's noodle mastery, where wheat noodles become the perfect vessel for each region's signature flavors. Wheat noodles, buckwheat noodles, green tea noodles, hot noodles, cold noodles – you can have them every which way and any time of the year. Below, we’ve shared our picks for where to find the best noodles in Tokyo, based on years of slurping.

Walk into most any izakaya in Tokyo and you’ll find folks gathered around tables overloaded with an assortment of sashimi, yakitori, edamame, cups of sake and bottles of Asahi. Here is Japan’s answer to the tapas bar, outshining most any after-work happy hour. The charm of izakaya dining lies in the variety: From crispy tempura to savory miso cod, each dish demands sharing and, sometimes, a little exploration. Once the exclusive stomping grounds for sarariman (salarymen) to unwind their ties and ambitions, izakayas can sometimes be the domain of tobacco-puffing old men. But times are changing, with spots like Shake Kojima serving mostly female clientele. The izakaya was featured in a popular manga adaptation, in which a young woman ditches her co-workers to eat and drink her way through Tokyo.

The Japanese philosophy of ikigai follows four key tenets: to find in life what we love, what the world needs, what we are good at, and what we can get paid for. At Miura, chef and owner Hiroki Nara has found his ikigai at this stunning gourmet fish restaurant.   This idyllic little secret is tucked into a quiet backstreet of Shimokitazawa, one of the few neighborhoods in Tokyo devoid of skyscrapers and department stores. This small district lies in the heart of Setagaya, the second largest ward in Tokyo.

There’s a pocket of Tokyo, strolling distance from the stock exchange and the former commercial center, which feels like a step back in time. Ningyocho is filled with stores specializing in traditional crafts, some more than 100 years old. Here you can buy rice crackers or traditional Japanese sweets or head for a kimono, before watching kabuki (traditional Japanese theater) at Meijiza. On Ningyocho’s main street, just a few minutes from Suitengu Shrine which couples visit to pray to conceive a child or for safe childbirth, is a window. The window isn’t very wide, but a flurry of movement draws the attention of passersby. There, a broad-faced Kazuyuki Tani is making udon, bouncing – no, dancing – as he works.

“Don’t talk over the sake.” Sake evangelist Gordon Heady is holding a cup, reverentially, and pauses slightly before lifting it to his lips. He is instructing us on how to evaluate the liquid properly. Take a sip, hold it in your mouth, breathe in slightly through your mouth, swill it round, swallow, breath out through your nose. Sit with the aftertaste. Let it develop.

The Gion district of Kyoto embodies the romanticism that surrounds Japan’s ancient capital. Filled with machiya (traditional long wooden houses), it harbors several “teahouses,” where geiko — the Kyoto term for geisha – entertain their high-class guests with quick-witted conversation and skilled musical performances. Yet just north of Shijo Street, the neighborhood evolves into a very different kind of entertainment area. Narrow alleyways are filled with small bars, many of which are kyabakura, hostess clubs that sell the fantasy of female attention. It’s a pocket of Kyoto where one needs confidence or an introduction to open many a door. And it’s also hiding one of the city’s best kept ramen secrets.

Our introduction to Yakinikuen takes place on a Saturday night. Two German friends, former Tokyo residents and long-time fans of the restaurant, were determined to take an edible trip down memory lane. “We’ll already be in the queue. Hurry!” they told us. Reservations at Yakinikuen, apparently, are only taken for weekdays before 7 p.m., and so they had lined up to secure a table. “It’s an underground joint with the best meat,” they said.

Stumbling upon a haggis toastie store in the middle of Tokyo sounds like a half-remembered dream where nothing quite makes sense. It was the minimalist black store front with white type that had initially drawn us to it. It looked like a store straight out of London, and certainly not like a café that one would expect to find next to Japan’s Olympic stadium. Its menu dripped with promise: toasties (toasted sandwiches) stuffed with glorious cheese. And real bread, granary bread, something we’d never spied before in Japan. Loaves of it were stacked in rows above the counter, and a griddle sat to one side, where butter-slathered slices, jammed packed with fillings, were being flattened into crispy parcels.

Whenever I come back to Japan, I crave eggs. We go straight to our buddy's house and his wife almost always makes us a bowl of rice with a raw egg on top of it. And that's often my kick-off to being back. There are definitely restaurants where you can get that, but the eggs here are so incredibly delicious that I just crave them [by themselves], with some seaweed sprinkled on top and a little good soy sauce. It is, for me, one of my all-time comfort dishes. We almost always start our days at the FamilyMart, which is one of the convenience store chains near where I stay when I'm visiting. My wife and I have an egg salad sandwich about every other day for the whole trip. For $1.75, they are shockingly delicious.