Greatest Locations to Eat in Osaka, Japan’s Final Meals Metropolis

By means of an unblinking black eyeball, a 20-foot-high scarlet octopus ogles my lunch. She lords over the second flooring of a restaurant in Osaka’s Shinsekai quarter, a pastiche of Paris and Coney Island erected within the early 1900s, uncared for by the midcentury, and revered in the present day for its retro-futurist structure and first-class quick meals. Ursula-san already clutches takoyaki (octopus fritters) and kushikatsu (deep-fried skewers) in her white-suckered tentacles, however, unsurprisingly for a local Osakan, she’s nonetheless hungry.

Between us is a checkerboard lane and a monsoon. Seated by a rain-lashed window, my information, Noriyuki Ikegami, and I are protected inside Tsuruhashi Fugetsu, a series specializing in one other Osakan treasure, okonomiyaki. With the muscle reminiscence and blasé demeanor of somebody who has carried out this 10,000 instances, our server dumps a bowl of shaved cabbage and batter onto the new, hissing grill constructed into our desk. Over the following 20 minutes, she periodically reappears so as to add shrimp, steak, and pork; flip the pancake and paint it with mayo and a candy, tangy brown sauce; fry up a sunny-side egg to slip on prime; and at last, bury all of it in dancing bonito flakes. Okonomiyaki is a scrumptious mess. As is Osaka.

You may’t simply name Japan’s third-largest metropolis a meals city. Two syllables can not embody the variety and high quality of the cooking, from scorching and saucy takoyaki on the road to tradition-steeped kaiseki on the Michelin-starred Nishitenma Nakamura, the place chef-owner Akemi Nakamura tenderizes squid sashimi with knife strokes as delicate as calligraphy. Osakans dine with athletic fervor and fervour, and everybody I meet needs to know—calls for to know, actually—the identical factor: “What have you ever eaten?” I inform them:

• The Netflix-famous Izakaya Toyo’s blowtorched tuna cheeks, which make for good TV however butane-flavored tuna; my meal is saved by chain-smoking chef-owner Toyoji Chikumoto’s zany showmanship and his chutoro maki, rolled up as casually as a yoga mat with gutsy tears of shiso.
• Raspberry cake cloaked in seed-speckled glaze, a luxurious fig muffin, a number of single-origin chocolate bars, and an Ethiopian pour-over at Yard, a glossy café and cocoa lab on the sting of peaceable Tennoji Park.
• Steamed monkfish liver, craggy fried rooster, and wasabi-pickled mountain yam at Sumiyaki Shoten yo Ohatsutenjin, a rambunctious izakaya down a nocturnal alley close to Umeda Station, washed down with passion-fruit-sake spritzes.

Add an excessive amount of okonomiyaki to the record. Ikegami eyes the second serving to on my plate and gently jogs my memory, “We’ve got much more to eat.”

Right here’s what you’ve in all probability heard about Osaka—if you happen to’ve heard something in any respect, given Tokyo’s and Kyoto’s a long time of tourism dominance. It’s chaotic. It’s gritty. It’s not very fairly. None of that’s unfaithful, notably in and round Shinsekai. The identify means New World, an optimistic prophecy for a Western-inspired future epitomized by Tsutenkaku Tower, which, at 210 toes, was the tallest constructing in Asia when it was constructed in 1912. However a fireplace destroyed it throughout World Conflict II, and the brand new world started a gradual slide into an underworld. Right now, Shinsekai is tough across the edges however completely protected, although it does assist to have a information like Ikegami, who leads culinary excursions of the world for Arigato Journey. 

Shaking our umbrellas, we push into Yamatoya, a hideout populated by pachinko pit bosses and girls with mushy packs of cigarettes clutched in sharp units of nails. Yamatoya makes a speciality of pressed and square-cut field sushi, historically made with thrifty cuts that may very well be cooked, preserved, or handled to final within the lunch pails of the laborers who flocked to Shinsekai in 1956 to reconstruct Tsutenkaku.

Ikegami orders the mackerel, and inside minutes, chef Doi-san passes the sushi throughout the counter. It seems to be like a mosaic of iridescent tiles and hits with comic-book ZAPS! and POWS! of vinegar and brine—flavors insistent sufficient to, nonetheless briefly, rouse these staff from an limitless grind of exhausting days. As soon as the “new” tower was full and employment in Shinsekai evaporated, most of the development staff turned homeless. The acclaimed photographer Daido Moriyama grew up in Osaka round that point; so iconic was the rebuilt Tsutenkaku, he would later put it on the quilt of his 2016 e book, Osaka, a blinding white rocket in opposition to a nighttime sky.

I discovered that e book within the library of The Flag, a boutique resort in Shinsaibashi. “I hated the odor of the city, the way in which individuals talked,” Moriyama wrote in “Darkish Image,” a 1996 essay republished in Osaka. “Sometimes, I used to be enamored [with] Tokyo, solely in its illusory smartness depicted in songs and books and flicks, and the hole between that and the picture of the Osaka I used to be truly in contact with was so excessive that Osaka appeared unpleasant.”

“Darkish Image” brightens right into a love letter to an advanced muse, a metropolis that luxuriates in, after which subverts, its personal stereotypes: right here a sketchy alley, there a Louis Vuitton. This entertaining cut up persona shines when seen on foot, and with the Kita (north) and Minami (south) areas of the central vacationer hall principally following a grid, Osaka is extraordinarily straightforward to navigate. Once I’m not hungry, I stroll. And stroll and stroll and stroll, till I’m hungry once more.

That’s my post-Shinsekai dinner plan. The Flag is across the nook from the buzzing Shinsaibashi shotengai (buying avenue) that funnels a river of pedestrians onto Osaka’s most well-known photograph op, the Ebisubashi bridge, and onward to Dotonburi, or, as I wish to name it, the San Antonio River Stroll on cocaine. Sightseeing riverboats glide beneath the bridge, their passengers gawking on the neon canyon above. The electrical billboards stare again, reflecting on the water in shimmering distortions of ice blue, scorching pink, and ultraviolet. Ramps and stairs sew the bridge and higher streets of Dotonburi to the crowded cafés and comfort shops alongside the canal. Folks in all places. Lights in all places. Meals. In all places. Tonkotsu ramen, takoyaki, bubble waffles, matcha crêpes, Kobe steaks—I need nothing, however I would like all of it. The sensation encapsulates the Osakan expression kuidaore, which suggests “to eat oneself to damage.”

Tomofumi Fujimaru waits on the Andō prepare station. Skinny denims. Ivory turtleneck. Black Vary Rover. It takes half-hour to get from Osaka to the wellspring of its new-wave wine scene. The prepare trundles out of downtown and backward in time, piercing skyscrapers shrinking to concrete house blocks to single houses with vegetable gardens and bedsheets on clotheslines. “Eighty years in the past, Osaka was the primary grape producer in Japan,” Fujimaru says as we zip via Kashiwara, the place the hills exterior of city as soon as housed 119 wineries. Only a few stay.

The 46-year-old Fujimaru is taken into account the consigliere of pure wine in Japan, a rustic in thrall to the class, if to not its personal wine-making talents. “Lots of people say overseas wine is superior and that Osakan wine is tasteless or actually candy,” he says. “I wished to make wine for a meal, dry and totally matured.”

Fujimaru parks on the aspect of a switchback, will get out of the automobile, hops the metallic barricade, and gestures for me to observe him into the forest. A brief stroll brings us to a clearing, the place a fairy-tale tunnel disappears right into a jumble of bamboo. On the opposite aspect, we emerge onto a path that way back crumbled right into a ravine. A slim metallic plank varieties a makeshift bridge throughout the 10-foot hole. Fujimaru trots throughout, touchdown in one in all 9 vineyards that present grapes for the 15,000 bottles he produces yearly of his cult label, Cuvée Papilles.

What this previously deserted winery lacks in entry, it makes up for with sunny southwestern publicity, cool nights, vine-friendly sand-and-clay soil, and a powerful view of a miniature village within the distance framed by an amphitheater of unruly evergreens. The sphere slopes down gently, giving the sense that if you happen to cleared the wild progress and tucked your self right into a burlap sack, you may glide all the way in which right down to the Yamato River, as if you happen to had been on an amusement park super-slide.

Fujimaru touches the trellised vines. “Earlier than, this was all Delaware,” he says, referring to the American selection that makes up 70 % of the grapes grown in Osaka Prefecture. “However this place is nice for Merlot.” We’re between harvest and first frost, so whereas the Merlot clusters have since journeyed down the mountain and towards town, their papery leaves stay, all chartreuse and amber, curling in on themselves like previous sticky notes.

We observe the fruit’s reverse commute to Shimanouchi Fujimaru, the primary city vineyard in Japan. Fujimaru’s second in command, Atsushi Tanaka, exhibits me across the first flooring of this nondescript constructing, the place first-of-their-kind experiments embody Delaware grapes macerating in rotund earthenware vessels. Then we head upstairs to the comfortable restaurant for house-made fettuccine with candy potatoes and allspice-laced braised beef. An odd and nice grittiness runs via the pasta. “The pomace from the wine making,” Tanaka says, explaining that the grape seeds and skins are dried, floor, and folded into the dough like coarsely cracked peppercorns. This winery spice brings nuttiness and tannins, and connects the life cycle of the wine in a closed loop.

Tanaka pours a cascade of Cuvée Papilles Osaka Pink. Composed primarily of Fujimaru’s Merlot gamble, the mix is a vivacious geyser of blackberry and plum. Some wine pairings lean into their meals. This one is all contrasts, with the wine’s wild-yeast edge, energetic juiciness, and savage acidity countering the sonorous richness of the pasta like a DJ mashing up Cardi B and Luther Vandross.

Every meal in Osaka appears to be higher than the final. Nothing will prime that pasta, I feel as I stroll to Yohaku, a brand new bakery-by-day, restaurant-by-night I discovered on Instagram. Simply contained in the shoji doorways, bronzed canelés, boxy banana gâteaux, and white-chocolate-and-yuzu sablés shine beneath glass. On the ground, three empty wine bottles talk Yohaku’s liquid affinities. The room is darkish, however I could make out the exuberant cerise and viridian watercolors on the Osaka Pink label. A lot as I’d fortunately crush one other bottle, I attempt a musky orange Alsatian Gewürztraminer and settle in at Yoji Arakawa’s 10-seat counter.

Arakawa is among the many younger cooks who’ve cooked in Tokyo and overseas however determined to do their very own factor in Osaka, which is the hometown of his spouse and enterprise associate, Tomoko Arakawa, a Paris-trained pâtissier. “In Osaka, you possibly can eat the identical stage of meals at about 60 % of the costs in Tokyo and Kyoto, and clients are strict about high quality and value,” Arakawa tells me. “Outlets which can be low high quality or not value the associated fee don’t final lengthy, so in Osaka, you will be happy irrespective of the place you eat.”

That tracks. Yohaku, nonetheless, inhabits one other aircraft. Inventive joie de vivre, can-do scrap, and yes-chef precision underpin Arakawa’s menu, which expresses Japanese elements via French method and fermentation. He cooks each single dish himself, in a workspace smaller than a New York studio kitchenette. “Till now, I’ve labored in massive eating places with greater than 15 cooks. I wish to make a less complicated retailer,” he says. “Since I’m working alone, I’m restricted in what I can do, however I cherish the concepts which can be born solely when there are restrictions and guidelines.”

Man, these concepts. My stool is inches from their execution, shut sufficient to really feel the warmth when Arakawa brûlées reef squid to stack with contemporary pear and foie gras confit on an altar of sous-vide leeks, shut sufficient to listen to a half-dozen vacuum-sealed baggage exhale when he slits them open to furnish an epic pickle plate. With all of Arakawa’s gear and mise en place inside attain, it looks as if solely his higher physique strikes, like a car-dealership inflatable wearing an indigo tunic. He suits a wedge of sudachi on the rim of a bowl bearing tagliolini, matsutakes, conger eel, and pink shiso blossoms and slides it throughout the counter, gesturing for me to squirt the citrus over the pasta. The concurrently fatty and luminous consequence presents an alternate historical past wherein Japanese cooks invented beurre blanc.

Easy pleasures like house-baked rye and a Hokkaido cheese plate with fermented pineapple complement the large swings. Sprightly yuzu-pineapple kombucha and silky lattes complement the wine service, and dessert sees fats amethyst figs sunk into vanilla-bean rice pudding, topped with the palest jade egg of wasabi ice cream and cilantro flowers. The canelés observe me again to the resort.

Nothing will prime this, I feel. In fact, I’m mistaken.

Sukuna Ueda beats the matcha together with his bamboo whisk, friends deep into the frothy liquid prefer it’s going to inform his future, and shakes his blue-beanie-capped head. “I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I’m going to do it over.”

Osaka’s persona is chill by Japan requirements, however its artisans share the countrywide consideration to craft and element, whether or not making soba, throwing pottery, or brewing matcha at Wad, a stylishly austere café within the west finish of Minamisenba. Ueda is the ochaban, head of tea service. After learning jazz in San Francisco, he returned to his native Osaka with the will to “delve extra into Japanese tradition.” Tea turned his medium.

Once you order matcha at Wad, Ueda invitations you to choose your bowl; the choice rotates based mostly on which artists have simply proven within the upstairs gallery. My vessel has a sapphire lip and air bubbles suspended in its curves and appears prefer it belongs on a coral reef. “Good selection,” Ueda says, then will get to work getting ready my matcha, twice.

I raise my bowl with each arms, inhale, and sip the grassy, ethereal tea. The expertise is borderline eucharistic, and I give the matcha its due reverence earlier than leaping into one other type of tea ceremony. Wad makes its personal uji syrup (uji is a kind of matcha) for a can’t-miss dessert. The kakigori, an emerald mountain of shaved ice, arrives wanting like a scale mannequin of St. Lucia’s Gros Piton. The fantastic, fluffy crystals drenched in candy (however not too candy) syrup are unimaginable. Might or not it’s the most effective factor I’ve eaten in Osaka?

I contemplate that query at my second resort, Japan’s first W, a mirrored onyx Tadao Ando tower on Midosuji, Osaka’s Fifth Avenue. From my Twenty seventh-floor suite, I examine the silent silver stitches of southbound site visitors migrating via the skyscrapers earlier than mattress, the place as a substitute of counting sheep I rely snacks: excellent latte from standing-room-only indie roaster Mel; magenta mochi with a juicy raspberry middle at Mochisho Shizuku, the place the standard wagashi confectioneries resemble valuable stones; and a supple vanilla Swiss roll within the firm of 100 houseplants at Pyroc Espresso & Bar. 

All these delicacies dwell in Shinmachi, the W’s yard and “the easiest space of Osaka,” based on Masuhiro “Julian” Yokota, whom I discover behind the counter on the micro-bakery Yotsubashi Ache. Shinmachi has at all times been a spot to purchase and promote. From the early 1600s via World Conflict II, when it was Osaka’s red-light district, the commodity was intercourse. Then got here girls’s put on, actual property, plastics, and extra, when firms moved in and erected mid-rise workplace buildings. Right now, there are eccentric rubber stamps, classic Starter jackets, and Yokota’s furutsu sando, the specialty at Yotsubashi Ache.

Like most Japanese children, Yokota grew up with this trinity of fruit, cream, and white bread, and wished to make a “extra scrumptious and beautiful” model for his nostalgic fellow millennials. Every weekend, he strains the case with vibrant glow-ups: grapes and coconut-milk cream; pomegranate-beaded chocolate cream on cocoa bread; and mango, passion-fruit jam, and whipped yogurt cream cheese. Late afternoon, I snag the final sandwich, Earl Gray cream inlaid with half-moons of glistening tangerine. The candy acid of the citrus cushioned within the ethereal dairy offers huge Creamiscle power, with a grown-up whisper of aromatic bitterness. The home-baked white bread is so mushy I go away fingerprints in it, then devour the proof. I feel this may very well be the most effective factor I’ve eaten in Osaka. 

Ultimately, it’s Yokota who sabotages his personal victory. He’s the one who recommends Noodle Fishtons, much less a gap than a crack within the wall. A hulking merchandising machine takes my order and spits out a ticket, which I go to a cook dinner, who directs me to a stool on the finish of the counter, by the lavatory, to marinate within the white noise of the lunch rush: keen slurping, the hole tink of plastic spoons on ceramic bowls, and the microwave’s intermittent beep. “If you need to reheat, please be happy to ask the employees,” says one in all many notecards laminated and posted across the ramen-ya. Requests one other, “Please chorus from consuming whereas your cell phone.” I really feel attacked.

Fishtons’ factor is tsukemen, or dipping ramen—noodles which can be eaten after being submerged in a separate bowl of broth. They do about half a dozen kinds, together with the model I ordered, flavored with barrel-aged soy and aimori (purple vinegar). It comes on a tray in a constellation of bowls. The most important incorporates marbled pink slices of roasted pork folded over two sorts of noodles: skinny, mushy yellow ones constituted of Japanese white flour, and thicker, darker ones constituted of nutty Kyoto wheat. The following-largest bowl holds the dipping sauce, a profound brown elixir of pork and fish shares, strips of braised pork stomach, scallion, and highly effective soy sauce aged the previous approach, in timber casks. Condiments fill the opposite saucers: briny kombu tea, contemporary sudachi, spicy miso, Okinawan sea salt, wasabi, and fruity-sharp aimori. You combine and match to create totally different sensations and flavors. I accumulate some noodles and pork, splash them within the vinegar, plunge them into the broth, then my mouth, and depart from my physique.

Have you ever ever eaten one thing that wholly possesses you? I imply muscles-spasming, speaking-in-tongues, call-the-exorcist possession. In that second, in that restaurant, I don’t know the phrases I’m forming to explain the tsukemen—the springiness of its dueling noodles, the luscious fats rippling via the pork, the broth’s audacious acidity and umami, as inescapable as a riptide. I do know that no matter small coil of my mind stays autonomous has made its ultimate commendation: the aimori tsukemen at Noodle Fishtons is the most effective factor I’ve eaten in Osaka.

My ecstatic babble attracts an interruption from a cook dinner, who appears each irritated and alarmed. “Excuse me,” he hiss-whispers. “Are you able to please be quiet?”

In regards to the meals in Osaka? Not a likelihood.

The place to Keep

Resort The Flag: Fashionable minimalism within the buying haven of Shinsaibashi.

W Osaka: The slick model’s first resort in Japan. Generously sized suites have unimaginable views and Nintendo-wallpapered closets.

The place to Eat

Izakaya Toyo: A ton of ready and a ton of enjoyable, with nice meals (aside from the torched tuna cheeks made well-known by Netflix).

Mel Espresso Roasters: Good espresso drinks on a busy Shinmachi nook.

Mochisho Shizuku: Like a contemporary artwork gallery for conventional Japanese sweets.

Nishitenma Nakamura: This cerebral, seasonal Michelin-starred kaiseki seats only a handful an evening, which suggests reservations are important. 81-6-7506-8218

Noodle Fishtons: Seize a seat on the counter for transcendent tsukemen (dipping ramen).

Pyroc Espresso & Bar: This place doesn’t know if it needs to be a café or a greenhouse, which isn’t an issue in any respect.

Shimanouchi Fujimaru: The primary city vineyard in Japan, with a wonderful upstairs restaurant that pours proprietary pure wines.

Sumiyaki Shoten yo Ohatsutenjin: From blissful hour to early morning, this place rocks with feisty sake and shochu cocktails.

Tsuruhashi Fugetsu: Hearty okonomiyaki at branches throughout Osaka; the Shinsekai outpost seems to be like a Wendy’s from the Eighties (a praise!).

Wad: A masterful tea program and towering bowls of kakigori (shaved ice) that may blow up your social media feeds. 

Yamatoya: Colourful Shinsekai characters present up for field sushi and different Osakan favorites.

Yard Espresso & Craft Chocolate: Third-wave espresso and alluring confections (together with house-brand chocolate bars) on the sting of Tennoji Park.

Yohaku: Baking by day and cooking by evening in a tiny kitchen that radiates creativity and ingenuity.

Yotsubashi Ache: The signature merchandise at this offshoot of famed Osaka pâtisserie Le Sucré-Coeur is the fruit-and-cream sandwich.

The right way to Guide

Arigato Journey: This firm makes a speciality of insightful food-focused and customised excursions for small teams and people in varied Osaka neighborhoods. I took a strolling tour with Arigato; the corporate also can plan multiday itineraries.

A model of this story first appeared within the July 2023 subject of Journey + Leisure beneath the headline “The Starvation Video games.”