Honest Bao

Founded in 2010 by Shotaro Iida, this shop is located in the quiet hot-spring town of Yugawara. Iida-san’s family was originally in the dried seafood and nori business, and he actually started the shop in their old warehouse. Since then, it has become a cult phenomenon, winning the "Tokyo Ramen of the Year" (TRY) award multiple times and holding a legendary status for its "100% natural" approach to ingredients. Best Shoyu Ramen Let’s talk about the "fuss." To eat here, you have to survive the weekly bloodbath on Omakase.in. If you win that battle, you then face a 2-hour train ride from central Tokyo. Unless you’re already visiting the onsens in Atami, you really have to be a "ramen manic" to do this. The shop itself is a temple—minimalist, open kitchen, and a ritualistic atmosphere where they make their own silk-like noodles right in front of you. The Food: Is it great ramen? Definitely. The Shoyu has incredible depth, a beautiful amber clarity, ...

If you’ve watched the documentary Ramen Heads, you already know the man, the myth, and the legend: Osamu Tomita. A disciple of Kazuo Yamagishi (the "God of Ramen"), Tomita-san has spent decades perfecting a bowl that has won every award Japan has to offer. This isn't just a meal; it's a pilgrimage to Matsudo, Chiba. Classic Japanese store front Let’s be real—getting a seat here is like trying to score Glastonbury tickets. You have to battle it out on Omakase.in the second bookings open. Then, you have to make the trek to Chiba. It’s accessible by train, but it’s a commitment. Once you arrive, the vibe is strictly "ramen fine dining." It’s an open kitchen where every bowl is served with military precision at the exact same time. Exceptional quality and beautifully presented  A whole range of Chashu  The Tsukemen is, as expected, a masterpiece. The broth is incredibly rich and thick but manages to stay balanced—the fish notes provide depth without being an uma...

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in Tokyo 2026, it’s that "famous" usually just means "you’ll be standing on a pavement for two hours." That’s why Shinjiko Shijimi Chuka Soba Kohaku (Ikebukuro) was such a breath of fresh air. I rocked up for an early weekday dinner and—surprisingly—no queue. Just a handful of people tucked into their bowls. This is exactly how ramen should be: high-quality food without the soul-crushing wait. A very nice shoyu broth and generous toppings This isn't your standard pork-fat bomb. They specialise in "Chuka Soba" (Chinese-style noodles) using Shijimi clams from Lake Shinji. The shoyu broth has an incredible depth; it’s complex and rich with umami but stays light enough that it doesn't overwhelm your palate. It leaves this beautiful, subtle aftertaste that makes you want to drink the whole bowl like a thirsty marathon runner. The toppings are equally elite. You get a variety of tender cha siu, and because it’s a "C...

If you’ve ever Googled "Best Ramen in Tokyo," Ginza Kagari has definitely popped up. It used to boast a Michelin Bib Gourmand, but that little red sticker is nowhere to be found these days—and honestly, that should have been my first warning sign. Really average ramen Kagari specialises in Tori Paitan, a style of ramen that’s a bit of a rarity compared to the usual soy or pork. Think of it as the chicken version of Tonkotsu; the bones are boiled for hours until the collagen and fat emulsify into a thick, milky-white, creamy soup. On paper, it sounds like a dream. In reality? It’s a bit of a "meh" in a fancy bowl. The broth is undeniably thick and creamy, but it lacks any real layers or depth—it’s just a one-note chicken punch and taste quite like a Campbell's cream of chicken soup. I also dislike the idea of addling truffle oil. The chicken toppings were the real heartbreak; they weren’t tender or juicy, just standard, uninspiring bits of bird. If you do find yo...

Unagi (freshwater eel), the ultimate Japanese comfort food that somehow costs more than a designer handbag. If you’re going for a "proper" experience in Tokyo, be prepared for two things: a hole in your wallet and a choice between "Farmed" or "Wild" eel. Wild ones are the elite athletes of the river world and come with a much heftier price tag. I hit up two spots to see if the hype—and the bill—are justified. 1. The Charcoal Master: うなぎ魚政 (Unagi Uomasa) Located a bit of a trek away in Katsushika, Uomasa is for the serious unagi pilgrims. This isn't "fast food"—each eel is kept alive until you order it, then killed, skewered, and grilled over top-tier Kishu Binchotan charcoal. Grill fish bone and liver Unagi Uomasa is often talked about in hushed, reverent tones, and while it’s undoubtedly a top-tier bowl, the reality is a bit more grounded than the poetry online suggests. The hook here is the absolute freshness; they keep the eels swimming un...

Japanese Yakiniku (literally "grilled meat") evolved from Korean BBQ but has been refined into a high-art form in Japan, focusing on premium Wagyu cuts and precise dipping sauces. While it was once a casual family affair, it has now entered the realm of "fine dining," where reservations at top-tier spots are harder to get than a front-row seat at Fashion Week. Since many "legendary" shops are now referral-only, I’ve focused on two heavyweights that you can actually book—if you’re fast enough. 1. The Gold Standard: 蕃 YORONIKU (Ebisu) I’ve been here twice, and the consistency is genuinely impressive. If you hate the stress of accidentally overcooking an expensive piece of beef, this is your sanctuary. Nice fillet The Content: The quality of the Wagyu here is top-tier—smooth, tender, and incredibly juicy. They offer a huge variety of cuts, most of which are lightly marinated to give them an extra kick. My only small gripe? By the time you reach the end of the...

After conquering the world of deep-fried pork, it was time to level up to Tempura. Forget the soggy stuff you get with supermarket soba; to do this properly, you have to go to the specialists. It turns out that at this level, the difference between "good" and "legendary" is like day and night. 1. The Legend: てんぷら 近藤 (Tempura Kondo) When a place holds two Michelin stars and a monster score on Tabelog, expectations are dangerously high. Tempura Kondo in Ginza doesn’t just fry food; they essentially "steam" it inside a whisper-thin, golden crust. This was another level entirely. The tempura is impossibly light—the outside shatters while the inside remains incredibly moist. It’s precision engineering in edible form. My only "wait, what?" moment was the signature sweet potato. It’s a massive stump of a vegetable, and while it's famous, mine felt a bit overcooked and slightly burnt on the edges. Still, the rest was exceptional. Just be prepared for...