Lunch Wed-Fri 11.30am-3.30pm;
Dinner Mon-Sat 5.30pm-10pm
Tiny drunk Japanese men. They're everywhere: on the business cards, the menu. They make such a rich graphic statement that you almost wish there was a corresponding eatery back in Tokyo named for wasted Australian businessmen. The crowd packing the bar and tables, though, is young, hip and very Surry Hills, throwing down Salaryman lager and glasses of picpoul and sake as they punch roasted oysters done with beef heart and Japanese Worcestershire (not bad), spread hot bone marrow and miso on milk buns (overkill squared) and savour shreds of grilled cucumber dressed with sesame and plum (an unexpected hit). Sure, the food has all the hallmarks of white-guy Japanese (big on mayo and fat, low on acidity and sparkle), and the ramen, whether it's pork and pipi or roast potato and miso, still needs plenty of work, but there's enough brio here, especially in the service, to make joining the party worthwhile.
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