Gakuya, Kagurazaka がくや、神楽坂

A hot, crowded early evening in Kagurazaka spent prowling the back streets off the main Kagurazaka Dōri in search of an interesting izakaya for the evening. Not a hard task. Kagurazaka’s back streets appear to be booming. New cafes, bars, izakaya and restaurants seem to have sprung up everywhere, ranging from budget establishments through the kind of places that you probably need a bank loan to afford.

As my dining partner for the evening had requested, I picked a handful of izakaya for our evening meal and then, there being still an hour before she was due to arrive, I decided to have a rest and couple of beers (turned out to be not cold enough bottled Heineken) in a tiny two floor café, named Mugimaru2, housed in an old traditional building of timber and crumbling plaster walls. The heat in the place was intense, despite a small army of electric fans battling vainly against the early summer heat.

Just before 7.30pm I left the humid comfort of the café and strolled down the now heaving Kagurazaka Dōri, lined with hanging paper lanterns in preparation for the splendid annual matsuri (festival) due to start on July 22^nd, to meet my companion at Iidabashi station. As always the atmosphere was lively the street busy with eager diners heading for their eatery of choice. It was also the first time this year I have heard the screeching song of the Semi (Cicadas). Summer! Caught up in the mood I too began to feel excited at the prospect of trying one of the izakaya I had spotted.

The evening did not go as planned. As I should have guessed, by the time my companion and I made our way back up the hill and through the winding, Kyoto-like back streets each of the izakaya we attempted to enter was full. After half an hour of being turned away, desperation began to sink in. Hungry, thirsty, I cursed myself (and was cursed) for not having the presence of mind to book somewhere in advance. We eventually found a small, old-style looking kushiyaki-ya on a side street just off Honda Yokochō just in front of Masu 2, an izakaya we had been turned away from. My gut instinct told me it didn’t look promising. It wasn’t.

Entering in through the small doorway we received a lacklustre welcome from the mistress of the house. She then laboured the point of making some space for us at the busy counter. The interior was a simple affair. Small counter before a narrow open kitchen on the right, and three small tables to the rear of the shop. Worn, tired décor and a limited, but cheap, menu. Feeling our spirits sinking we ordered a few dishes, guzzled draught beer and tucked into an uninspiring o-toshi (appetizer) of raw cabbage, carrot, and cucumber served with two pitiful dollops of mayonnaise and miso paste. The atmosphere was lively enough, mainly young women at the counter nattering away and sweaty looking salarymen talking shop around the tables behind us. God alone knows why they were there. Perhaps it was a last resort for them too.

When the tsukune (grilled minced chicken on a stick) with tare sauce arrived, I knew this was going to be an instantly forgettable meal. Tiny and served on a horrible white dish of the kind you find in office canteens it tasted little better than it looked. Next up four equally small skewers of yakitori, two each of chicken and negi (leak) and chicken yuzu-goshō (citrus and pepper paste), that was undercooked. Wanting to cry, I decided sake might at least dull my senses. Only one nameless option was available. I ordered a beer. A basket of limp-looking eda-mame (broad beans) did little to impress and the Gakuya salad was pathetic, right down to the corn flakes sprinkled over it. Despairing, I suggested that my dining partner step outside and make a call to Seigetsu just in case they had a table free. She returned, beaming, to inform me that a table was booked. We had just ten minutes to drain our glasses and wolf down the final travesty of the evening, the gyū tataki (leaves wrapped in roast beef).

Asking for the bill, the mistress of the house seemed almost as pleased to see us leave as we were.

(Later, despite spilling a whole jug of sake over myself, a lovely evening was enjoyed at Seigetsu.)