If you have only experienced Japanese food through sushi restaurants and ramen shops, you are missing what might be its most enjoyable setting: the izakaya. Part pub, part restaurant, part social institution, the izakaya is where Japanese people go to eat, drink, and unwind with friends and colleagues after work. It is informal, it is loud, and the food is designed to be shared over drinks rather than consumed in solemn, course-by-course progression.

I love sushi bars for their precision and focus. I love izakaya for the opposite — the relaxed energy, the breadth of the menu, the permission to order freely and eat without ceremony.

What an Izakaya Is

The word izakaya comes from “i” (to stay) and “sakaya” (sake shop) — a place where you stay to drink sake. Historically, these were drinking establishments that began offering food to accompany the alcohol. Over time, the food became as important as the drink, and the modern izakaya offers menus that range from a dozen items to several hundred.

In Japan, izakaya vary enormously. There are tiny, six-seat joints under railway bridges, massive chain operations with thousands of locations, and everything in between. What they share is an emphasis on approachable food served in small portions that pair well with beer, sake, shochu, and whisky.

The Food

Izakaya food is Japan’s comfort cooking, and its range is enormous. A typical menu might include:

Edamame. The universal izakaya starter. Salted soybeans in the pod, eaten by squeezing the beans out with your teeth. Simple, addictive, and perfect with cold beer.

Karaage. Japanese fried chicken, marinated in soy, garlic, and ginger, coated in starch, and deep-fried until the outside is shatteringly crisp and the inside is juicy. This is arguably the finest fried chicken preparation in the world, and I will defend that claim vigorously.

Yakitori. Skewers of chicken grilled over charcoal, seasoned with either tare (a sweet soy glaze) or shio (salt). The range of cuts used is broader than most Westerners expect — thigh, breast, skin, cartilage, liver, heart, and the tail are all standard. A good yakitori-ya uses the whole bird and makes each cut sing.

Agedashi tofu. Lightly fried silken tofu served in a warm dashi broth with grated daikon and bonito flakes. The contrast between the crisp exterior and the creamy interior is addictive.

Sashimi. Yes, sashimi appears on izakaya menus too, though it tends to be a step more casual than what you would find at a dedicated sushi bar. Assorted slices on a shared plate, meant to be eaten between drinks.

Gyoza. Pan-fried dumplings with a crispy bottom and a juicy pork-and-vegetable filling. The dipping sauce — a mixture of rice vinegar, soy sauce, and chilli oil — is essential.

Grilled fish. Whole or portioned, often simply seasoned with salt. Saba (mackerel) and hokke (Atka mackerel) are izakaya staples. The char from the grill adds a smoky dimension that pairs brilliantly with sake.

The Drinks

Izakaya and drinking are inseparable. The evening typically begins with beer — in Japan, the first round is almost always nama biiru (draft beer), ordered collectively with a cry of “toriaezu biiru!” (“beer for now!”). From there, people branch into sake, shochu (a distilled spirit made from barley, sweet potato, or rice), highballs (whisky and soda), and umeshu (plum wine).

The relationship between the food and the drink is closer here than in most Western dining. Dishes are specifically designed to pair with alcohol — salty, savoury, and rich flavours that make you want another sip, which in turn makes you want another bite. It is a virtuous (or dangerous, depending on your perspective) cycle.

The Social Ritual

Izakaya dining follows its own social patterns. In Japan, the first round of drinks is always ordered together, and the first toast — kampai — happens in unison. After that, the table orders communally, with dishes placed in the centre for everyone to share. The pace is leisurely. An izakaya evening can stretch for three or four hours without anyone looking at a watch.

There is a custom called otoshi or tsukidashi — a small appetiser that arrives automatically when you sit down and functions as a de facto cover charge. It might be a small dish of pickled vegetables, a cube of tofu, or a few slices of sashimi. This is not optional, and it is not a scam. It is simply how izakaya work.

Izakaya in Sydney

Sydney’s izakaya scene has grown substantially, and there are now a number of places that genuinely capture the spirit of the original. The best ones share a few characteristics: a lively atmosphere, a menu that rewards exploration, and a drinks list that goes beyond the obvious.

The inner city — particularly Surry Hills, Darlinghurst, and Chippendale — has the highest concentration. But some of the most authentic izakaya experiences I have had in Sydney are in the suburbs, particularly in areas with significant Japanese communities.

What I encourage people to do at an izakaya is order broadly. Get five or six dishes for two people. Try something you have never heard of. Drink whatever interests you. Talk to the staff about what they recommend. The whole point of izakaya dining is exploration and enjoyment, and the menu is designed to support exactly that. There is no wrong choice — only the next delicious one.