What is an izakaya? The Japanese pub where the food matters

An izakaya is not a restaurant and not a pub, but precisely the thing in between: a place you go to drink, where the food is taken just as seriously.

The word gives away the origin

Izakaya combines i (to stay) and sakaya (sake shop). That is literally what it was: sake shops where customers took their purchase home, until shopkeepers put out stools so you could drink on the spot. Once something to eat appeared alongside, the izakaya was born.

That order is still there. At an izakaya you order your drink first and food after. In Japan this often goes via toriaezu nama — "a beer to start with" — so ingrained it is nearly a single word.

How the eating works

No starter, main and dessert. You order small dishes for the table, and you order in waves: a few things, and when those are gone you look again. Everything sits in the middle and everyone helps themselves.

That makes for slower, longer eating than in a restaurant. The pace is set by the conversation, not by the kitchen.

What comes past varies: fried chicken (karaage), edamame, grilled skewers (yakitori), gyoza's, something with cabbage, something fermented. The common thread is that it goes well with drinking — salty, savoury, crisp.

Why it works

An izakaya is louder and more informal than a Japanese restaurant. Stools at a bar, tables close together, an open kitchen. In Japan it is where colleagues go after work and where friends meet without a plan.

That is also exactly what makes it easy with a group: nobody has to commit to one dish for the whole evening.

Izakaya, ramen shop or sushi bar?

Three different things.

A ramen shop does one thing: bowls of noodles. You often sit at a counter, eat quickly, and leave. A sushi bar is about fish and about the counter. An izakaya is the broadest of the three: a bit of everything, staying longer, drinks up front.

That some places mix it — gyoza's and ramen and cocktails — is not inconsistency but simply how an izakaya works.

How to approach it

Order less than you think you need to start with. You can always order more, and that is the idea. Take two or three things for the table, see what you make of them, carry on.

And pick a few things that are nothing like each other. The pleasure is in the contrast: something crisp next to something soft, something salty next to something sharp.

At GYŌZA BAR on Witte de Withstraat it works the same way. See the menu.