Sinatra can have New York or Chicago. For old Nick, nothing sings of home like the chants of the yaki-imo hawker or the tofu kid of Tokyo and the sweetest part of that tune is the din of Shinbashi. Show me a man who knows a better place to be a man and I’ll show you a sucker.
Good, cheap eats are my game and walking out of Tokyo’s oldest station and into the stream of high lifes, low lifes, and no lifes that makes up this miasma of opportunity is no less a thrill than having some done up dame cross my threshold asking for help with her hands full of Suntory and Seven Stars.
Of all the greasy chopsticks to be tried in Tokyo, one above all takes the prize from bigger, better-known, and quirkier joints in their thousands: Read more