mr favourite new place

is exactly where I thought it would be. Just up the street from me. In a splendid synergy of expectation and realization that tasted all the sweeter for it's rarity in a land devoid of logic, the little chop house at the top of my road came up good. One hell of a gem in Oimachi, Toyko.

Honma's place is the kind where you're not given a menu, merely asked how hungry you are. One that thrives on regulars, big enough as it is or maybe 9 people around around the counter and some more upstairs.

Apart from a few others up on the 2nd floor, I was the only patron that evening until a 'jyouren' (regular) arrived, rolling up sleeves and taking a set=at at the counter as I was gathering coat and brolly. The master called me 'wakadana' all night, which I guess would roughly translate to 'young man' and chided me for draping my coat across a chair, hanging it up instead. He joked about women and at first took me for a translator. I went in prepared to answer all the regular questions you get asked as a foreigner in Japan and while some of them came up, for the most part it was other chat.

And the food was bloody good. Grilled skirt steak on a stick with a dot of wholegrain mustard on the side is the big boast of Honma's place. Fat and juicy and fatty and juicy. He even produced several magazines touting his eaterie with a picture of the famous 'kushiyaki' (grilled on stick thing). Offal curry swimming in oil with toast. Fried egg and potato salad. I forget the name in Japanese but the sit-down dish was two thick slices of smoked pink duck breast and rolled egg omelette.

It was all bloody good. Shame I'm to move away from Oimachi. The cockroaches finally got to me and an offer to live with people (other people! social contact in the home!!) came up and I'm off to trendy Nakameguro, spitting distance from Shibuya. Bam.