Tsukiji Outer Market
The Tsukiji Fish Market is an absolute must while you’re in Tokyo. Even if you only have one day there. I think it’s the best way to start your morning.
There is an outer market where the food stalls and shops are and a wholesale (“inner”) market where the auctions, cleaning, and shipping happens. The inner market moved to a new location in Toyosu and has been aptly renamed the Toyosu Market. So, the Tsukiji location now only consists of the outer market, which I find the most exciting.
The best time to visit is early. Come 9:30am and it’s already bustling. Don’t come with a time limit, just stroll, try the various offerings, be observant and inquisitive. You really should come armed with a degree of fearlessness and an outgoing attitude. Ask questions, talk to people, slurp that massive oyster, and stand in line for something just to try it. The smells are many, the obvious is clear (seafood!) but there’s nuance. The intoxicating smell of open-flame grilled crab, lobster, eel, shrimp, and oysters, is so sweet and briny; I imagine a blow torch aimed at the bottom of the ocean.
The Tsukiji market brings joy to me. I can feel it as I walk, finding myself smiling, my insides giddy at the possibility of encountering amazing taste, the freshest of catches, and learning about Japanese food and culture.
Getting lost in Tsukiji is a good way to find great sushi. But I guarantee, you can find top-quality sushi without getting lost at all. Great food is everywhere at the market. A lot of it is about you going after it, because even though it’s right in front of you, it can feel intimidating. I think this is especially so if you don’t speak Japanese. Or if you allow yourself to be taken with the speed and direction of the crowd, never stopping off for a better look (or bite!).
Tsukiji Itadori Bekkan
I was contentedly on my second or third weave of the place, when I found a little hallway that had a few lines forming within. I oscillated between continuing to walk and going to a sushi place I had recommended to me, or taking my chance on one of the shops within. After waiting in line for a few minutes driving myself into analysis paralysis, I spun around and kept walking. There are so many options it’s hard to commit to any one.
As I walked through the energetic maze, I began thinking I would never find the place again, that it was a really good choice, and I shouldn’t have let it pass. Who else has a torturous mind? Just when I felt the cause was lost, I came upon it again. I queued for about 45 minutes to an hour at the entrance of Tsukiji Itadori Bekkan. But once I was in that line I had a feeling in my bones and on my palette that it was going to be good; I was committed and confident.
The space is a little hideaway from the well-meaning chaos of the surrounding exterior. Aside from the low classical music playing, it’s very quiet and calm. The service is attentive and swift. I ordered hot green tea, hot sake, and the Premium Seared Kaisendon (4400 JPY = ~32 USD). Kaisendon is a traditional dish consisting of “donburi” (rice) and “kaisen” (fresh seafood). The one I ordered was mounded beautifully with fatty tuna, golden eye snapper, scallops, shrimp, and uni. Hats off to the real uni. The uni I, and most of you, have been missing out on. This was sweet, fluffy, and drenchy. It didn’t taste like the ocean, it tasted like the beauty of the ocean. It was such a clean taste that it reminded me of mashed perfectly ripe avocado. After this, uni pasta, uni toast, and uni butter make sense to me. After this, I’m on the hunt.
Every single component had the purest of tastes, everything had a sweetness to it. The scallop was soft and delicate. The chūtoro was softer than you’d imagine, the heat making it meltier and more delicate. Bite after bite, my lips rub together rich with fat. The light searing adds richness and a warm depth to each piece of fish. Like many places in Japan, the wasabi is fresh and/or much less processed. So it balances impressively well between nasally heat and magically quick relief.
This was probably the best kaisendon I’ve ever had. Usually, I go rice and 100% fatty tuna, but I found the variety was nice to have, and golden eye snapper is one of my favorite types of fish to eat raw, so everything offered here just worked so well for me.
I came back here on my last morning because I had to have this bowl one more time. My kaisendon the second time around was less mindblowing. It was made by a different chef, who gave off owner vibes. Yet, it was prepared with less intention than the previous younger chef. Still, I’ll return, and I’ll continue to long for it until then.
Wakaba Ramen Stall
When I first entered the market there was a stall that had several people, mostly men in suits, in front slurping from steamy bowls of ramen. The deep aroma of broth enveloped the area and sucked people in. The rich smell, the small crowd of eaters and the golden, thin noodles lifted by their chopsticks high into the air did all the advertising for the shop owners. I was absolutely drawn in. Wakaba is run by an older man and lady, assumingly husband and wife.
After my sushi breakfast, I stopped here. It was devoid of the men in business wear as they had likely downed their breakfast expertly and headed into the office. My interaction with the lady at the register was brief. I paid her 900 yen (~6.58 USD) and said my thanks. There is only one thing you can order here, and all bowls come the same way, so all you need to do is hand over the money and they know what to do. I was mesmerized and excited as I watched my bowl being created with the swift exactness of a man whose been doing it for years and still with love. His long saibashi (cooking chopsticks) and ladles dip into the huge vats of shoyu broth and boiling water. He then mixes something in my bowl before nestling a tangled pile of thin flaxen noodles and covering them with hot aromatic broth. This style of ramen is called chuka soba, which means “thin Chinese-style noodles”, most commonly made from wheat.
After retrieving your bowl of pure goodness you find standing room at one of the plastic tables they have on the other side of the walkway and shove those noodles down. Even though the noodles are so thin, they maintain their integrity, proving their freshness.
The best way to experience a place is through its foods, its markets, and its people. You get all of that at Tsukiji. It’s bustling with renditions of life. The lived, and the once lived. The sea provisions are wildly fresh, or they’ve been dried for weeks or months. It’s a space of collision. The buyer, the seller; the taker, the giver; the whole, the gutted; the wet, the dry; the raw, the cooked; the traveler, the rooted.
Tsukiji Itadori Bekkan website
Plan your trip to Tsukiji Outer Market