Midnight in Tokyo
To step into Omoide Yokocho, or "Memory Lane,” in Tokyo is to time travel some 70 years into the past. The narrow alley, just around the corner from the busy Shinjuku Station and surrounded by the towering skyscrapers and neon lights of the modern city, is a window into a slightly older, grittier version of Japan.
Kirin Ichiban lager pairs well with “Butabara” or grilled pork belly—a type of yakiton (grilled pork skewers).
Dozens of tiny food stalls, yakitori grills, and bars line both sides of the passageway, which is wide enough for two people walking side by side. The street’s less flattering moniker, Piss Alley, was an apt reference to its lack of restroom facilities when first built in the 1940s. This is a place best experienced at night, when the lanterns light up and the grills start firing, and people of all walks of life convene in impossibly narrow spaces to consume cold beer and grilled meat.
Omoide-Yokochō (Memory Lane)
During our time immersed in Japan working on the AARP Journal, we attempted to understand the culture on many levels—including through the food. The meals and their accompanying experiences were as varied as they were delicious: steaming bowls of ramen slurped quickly while hunched over a counter; melt-in-your-mouth slices of fatty tuna from the epicenter of fresh seafood, Tsukiji market; surprisingly delicious pork katsu sandwiches from the ubiquitous 7-Elevens; a Michelin-starred kaiseki (traditional multi-course meal) served with gorgeous simplicity in zen-like surroundings. And yet, nothing seemed quite so evocative of Japan, of the contradictions and characteristics of Japanese society, as this meandering alleyway in the heart of Tokyo.
Grilled shiitake mushrooms and grilled quail eggs wrapped in bacon.
The jumbled, cramped street, with its Showa era décor and smells of charcoal and charred meat, stands in contrast to the spotless, glittering, modern city just beyond its boundaries. Locals, foreigners, friends and total strangers sit shoulder to shoulder, focusing intently on their food. In the solo dining capital of the world, it’s not unusual for most people to be eating on their own, from white-shirted salarymen and -women grabbing a bite on their way home, to cab drivers taking a quick break from grueling shifts. Even on a weeknight, the seats in most of the bars were almost all occupied. Tokyo, not New York, is the metropolis that never sleeps; the city at midnight is wide awake and hungry. ⌁
