Han no Daidokoro Bettei

I have eaten in a lot of dining rooms that try this hard. Han no Daidokoro Bettei is one of the few that pulls it off without looking like it is trying.

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 Caesar salad assembled tableside, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered a Napa cabernet old enough to drink itself, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: kuroge wagyu, the dish that puts Han no Daidokoro Bettei on every short list. The seasoning was simple — salt, pepper, restraint — and it was the right call. The signature touch — single-farm cuts you grill yourself — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for hash browns the size of a hubcap and creamed spinach so rich it should embarrass us. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was key lime pie, 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.