Han no Daidokoro Bettei

There are restaurants you visit and restaurants you return to. Han no Daidokoro Bettei is, after one quiet Sunday in Tokyo, very much the second kind.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: blonde wood, careful service. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with burrata with peaches and basil, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered a quiet Brunello from the back of the list, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: kuroge wagyu, the dish that puts Han no Daidokoro Bettei on every short list. There was a thumb of butter melting into the cross-hatch, and a single sprig of thyme on top, and not one thing more. The signature touch — single-farm cuts you grill yourself — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for skin-on fries, twice-fried and wild mushrooms in butter. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was panna cotta with stewed cherries, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

If you are passing through Tokyo, do not pass Han no Daidokoro Bettei by.