It’s difficult to imagine a job where a major skill set is eating a vast amount of food and becoming as large as possible. Yet sumo wrestlers, in an effort to bulk up and to be able to throw their weight around in the ring, consume enormous amounts of protein-rich, calorie-heavy meals – primarily in a dish called chanko nabe (a one-dish hotpot) – hoping to do just that. At Chanko Dojo, diners are encouraged to fill up as much as possible as they soak up sumo culture. (For another eatery devoted to wrestling, read our review of this Mexico City spot.)

The West has gone gaga for noodles, Japan’s most cherished comfort food. Hungry diners pack secret soba dens in Los Angeles for bites of hand-cut anything; they line up to plunk themselves down at sparkling counters offering $100 ramen tastings in New York and pick through ramen au beurre in Paris looking for the next new taste. In Tokyo, ramen masters are now competing for cult status within a ramen culture imported from the United States. Soba chefs are newly coveted for their skill in grinding, rolling, cutting and plating and are praised as master craftsmen.

Roppongi’s Café Sakura serves as a restaurant and seating area for a bundle of businesses under the same ownership. There’s the Café with table service, the Wine Shop Sommelier (retail wines straight from the vineyard at considerable discount), L’Atelier du Pain (a Japanese-style bakery and cheese shop) and the French patisserie Coco Ange. Put them together and they enjoyably represent a Japanese take on the Western idea of “happy hour.”

Before Roppongi Hills rose from the warren of rambling streets, aging wooden homes and traditional Japanese ways nestled amongst embassies and Korean barbeque joints, Azabu Juban was a sleepy section of Tokyo, moored more in custom than the flashy markets and designer boutiques to come. The main shoten gai, or shopping street, was a classic example of Japanese daily life. Small mom-and-pop stores catered to neighbors, and after the third or fourth visit anyone could be a regular. The vegetable man would disappear into the back of his stand and produce a perfectly ripe melon before you had to ask; the flower vendor waved at her customers even if they weren’t in the market for flowers; and the shoe repair man admonished everyone for not shining their shoes regularly enough.

Japanese cuisine is often the art of quiet subtlety, and to that end, salt is one of its greatest supporters. The freshest of fish can be highlighted with a splash of the correct salt; cold sake drunk from fragrant cedar vessels is well enhanced with salt on the rim; and even tempura is frequently not dunked in sauce but instead sprinkled with salt by serious connoisseurs of fried delicacies. Salt plays a very significant role in Japanese culture and religion. It is a sign of purification. Thus most sushi restaurants mound salt on both sides of the entrance to show the place is clean and pure. Sumo wrestlers will throw salt into the ring before a match. Japanese people frequently throw salt over the entrance to their homes to purify their households. We’ve even seen people with packets of salt in their car.

It’s a common fantasy: Accidentally locked in a bakery, forgotten overnight, we quickly eat everything in sight and fall into a sugary, carb-filled dream of sweet-spun bliss. Sequestered away where nobody will find us until morning, we wake from time to time and continue to eat cakes until we sleep again. Short of that happening in this lifetime, we frequently daydream of walking the aisles of bakeries, latte in hand as we pull pain au chocolat and sticky buns from racks, consuming everything in a hurried rush before we’re asked to leave.

Several years ago, when the Michelin Guide decided to swoop into Japan and rate its cuisine, restaurateurs were slightly shell-shocked to learn that Japan came away with almost as many highly regarded establishments as France. (And in fact, Tokyo wound up with two more three-star restaurants than Paris.) Then, in 2013, UNESCO put washoku (Japanese cuisine) on its Intangible Cultural Heritage List, alongside such icons as the Argentine tango, Turkish coffee and falconry.

It’s always tempting to try and take on all three major museums in Tokyo’s Art Triangle in one day. It would be easy to be overwhelmed by the delicious treasures of the National Art Center Tokyo, the Suntory Museum of Art and the Mori Art Museum, so we usually opt for just one and head to Naniwa afterwards for a pot of tea and their delicious taiyaki, a popular form of Japanese sweets (wagashi).