Yoroniku

Walking into Yoroniku for the first time is a small piece of theatre, and that is before any food has arrived.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: Omotesando basement, hushed and exact. 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 Rioja gran reserva, decanted at the table, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: a5 wagyu yakiniku selection, the dish that puts Yoroniku on every short list. The seasoning was simple — salt, pepper, restraint — and it was the right call. The signature touch — the chateaubriand sukiyaki at the end — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

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

Dessert was the bread pudding with bourbon sauce, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

I will be back. With company, next time, and a longer reservation.