Just one block into the Shinjuku Golden Gai district of Tokyo, I realise my mistake. The concept of writing a information to Tokyo’s ‘greatest’ tiny bars? It now appears fairly…ridiculous. There are simply too many — 70 on the primary slim lane I come throughout alone, and every tumbledown yokocho (alleyway) on this labyrinthine nightlife district is equally full of dinky watering-holes. Some comprise simply half-a-dozen seats, others are standing-only tachinomiya.
Pity the first-timer, then, who’s confronted with the sensory overload, resolution anxiousness and FOMO of those seemingly countless neon-lit choices. Ought to I settle on this spot when there are a whole lot of alternate options actually not far away? Perhaps they’re having extra enjoyable subsequent door? It’s just like the bar equal of swipe tradition.
My associate and I had drawn up a hitlist of venues in Resort K5’s library bar Ao, trawling on-line opinions from the consolation of its crimson velvet banquettes, whereas pre-gaming with seasonal sours (black barley and chestnut, fig leaf and rose). However, heading into Golden Gai’s Friday-night crowds, our best-laid plans are shortly derailed. The primary spot doesn’t appear to exist, regardless of Google Maps’ insistence. One other is at capability — not onerous when its dimensions are roughly that of a single mattress.
Serving to to slim down selection just a little, many venues show ‘no foreigners’ indicators of their home windows (legally, clients can solely be refused based mostly on language, not ethnicity, so a fluently Japanese-speaking Westerner might argue their case for one of many coveted seats). Others have an eyewatering otoshi (cowl cost), which is ok if you happen to’re planning to linger, not a lot when the temporary is bar-crawling.
Diving out of the rain, we snag the final free stools in Albatross. The taxidermy-covered partitions vibrate with punk rock, and the barmaid’s nail artwork is a gothic masterpiece, encrusted with crystal skulls. Bottles of Japanese whisky glint beneath a disco ball and mismatching chandeliers. A gaggle of strapping Texans wedged on the staircase make the place look positively Lilliputian, and physique elements inevitably press towards one another as new arrivals contort themselves into the remaining pockets of house. Nonetheless, everybody contentedly sips their drinks, happy to be out of the downpour.
K5 Resort
Three doorways down and Pitou marches to completely completely different beat: minimalist decor, soothing jazz tunes and pure wines. The proprietor, a Central Saint Martins alumnus, pours out numerous amber-hued, skin-contact tipples comprised of indigenous koshu grapes. Prospects commerce bar suggestions throughout the counter, usually with splendidly enigmatic instructions (‘Discover the fourth constructing after the archway and slide open the unmarked door. Say Akito despatched you…’).
That is how we hear about Open E-book. Behind a sign-less exterior, its cabinets are, because the title suggests, stuffed with Japanese literature — though you’d battle to learn something, since there’s barely room to swing a Whats up Kitty. Open E-book embodies one other truism about Tokyo bars: moreover being pocket-sized, they’re usually perfectionists, specialising in a single sort of drink — on this case, lemon sours. This humble highball — a combination of distilled spirit shochu, membership soda and lemon juice — will get elevated with double-chamber filters extracting citrus essence and selfmade syrups.
Absinthe, in the meantime, is the main target at Bar Trench — a Metro trip away within the well-heeled, tourist-lite district of Ebisu. With its dimly lit, Belle Époque inside and old-school drip serves (pouring the inexperienced stuff over a sugar dice on a spoon), it’s straightforward to think about Toulouse-Lautrec, Degas et al lazing at a neighbouring desk.
Ebisu does a positive flip in clandestine, late-night lairs. Janai Espresso seems like a daily hipster café, however present the barista you’ve solved the net riddle they usually’ll level out the hidden entrance to its subterranean speakeasy. Espresso martinis all spherical. A10’s entrance is hid behind some steel lockers; after fumbling round at the hours of darkness, debating whether or not we’re unintentionally accosting a daily condo constructing, the entire storage unit swings open to disclose the hidden staircase main right down to considered one of Tokyo’s iconic listening bars. A 1,000-strong vinyl assortment looms above the liquor, the turntables spin and the supreme sound-system envelops us. It’s ultimate for that time within the night when dialog begins to slur.
Fact is, Tokyo nightlife is a multiverse; in probably the most sprawling of cities, with its intimate, idiosyncratic bar tradition, you’re hyper-aware of a night with the ability to break up off in infinite different instructions, if I’d reached for that door as an alternative of this neighbouring one, hooked down the earlier alleyway, stayed for only one extra spherical… Who is aware of, maybe there’s a parallel world by which I had an excellent higher time by toddling alongside Drunkard’s Alley (Tokyo’s different treasure trove of tiny pubs) and getting mesmerised by the precise hypnotist bartender at Fushigi no Heso? Properly, with a reputation that means ‘Mysterious Stomach Button’, clearly it’s a spot of curious happenings.
So, let’s neglect being definitive or superlative; these had been merely the bars I loved on my Tokyo bender. A reasonably consultant bunch, working the gamut from dignified to dive, which the subsequent day had me feeling as if a sumo wrestler had squashed my head. They’re enjoyable spots. It is best to go. But when the individual jammed subsequent to you on the bar has suggestions, be ready to go off-piste.
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