Hobodo Cafe Kyoto, Japan
I hadn’t slept very thoroughly on the night bus coming down from Mount Fuji and when I arrived at the Kyoto train station in the early morning hours all that was open with a Starbucks and a 7-Eleven.
All I had all day was a cold brew coffee and two small rice cakes. After a long morning of trekking through Kyoto, walking kilometers between shrines, and ambling all about their grounds, I was famished. I left Kinkakuji, also known as the Golden Pavilion, a temple whose history dates back more than 600 years, and whose two stories are covered in gold leaf in search of lunch.
Although I had some of the best falafel to ever pass my lips while in Tokyo, along with some really satisfying ramen, and a surprisingly large number of exceptional traditional Japanese tofu and vegetable preparations, I was still waiting to find that one meal in the land of the rising sun that was going to completely just blow me away. It happens every once in a while—you know what I mean—one of those meals that you’ll remember forever, that you’ll be telling somebody about 20 years from now. Some things are so good you just never forget.
Just across the river from City Hall, nestled into the beginning of a quiet, largely residential neighborhood, Hobodo Cafe is a very unassuming restaurant. I double check the name on the doors just to make sure I’m in the right place before opening them and poking my head in. From the looks of it, I could have easily been in a book shop, or a library. Shelf after shelf of all manner of Japanese books, from Manga to literature, and popular best sellers—even a few foreign titles—stick to the walls.
A team of two people, comprising the entirety of the staff, are busy in the open kitchen. There’s a handful of tables, and a counter along the far wall—the whole place would seat twenty people at a stretch. Two college age Japanese gals, and a family of five, account for those present at the tables; a Western woman is along the rail. I saddle up to a stool a few paces down from her and begin to browse a menu. Though there are a variety of dishes that sound appealing, it would be impossible for me to get out of here without ordering the tasting menu. This week’s tasting menu comes with nine small portions, as well as miso soup and rice. I can’t pass up the opportunity to try so many different things at once. The menu includes two kinds of dumpling, a spring roll, grilled lotus root, steamed rice with wasabi, a preparation of turnip, yubba, tofu and more.
After a few minutes the gentleman comes over to me. By the few snippets of conversation we share I can tell his English is fairly limited, but we were able to understand one another. “Dōmo arigatōgozaimashita,” I nod my head in vigorous gratitude and agreement, with one of the few Japanese phrases I’ve managed to pick up, as he takes down my order and walks away.
It’s impossible to tell if the man and the woman, industriously hard at work behind the counter, are husband and wife team, family or simply seasoned coworkers, but in any event they work with an efficiency, carefulness and joy that is unmistakable. I connect to the Wi-Fi and make myself busy, planning out my train ride for later in the evening, uploading some photos from the day and answering a handful of messages. But then 15 minutes after I order, my food arrives.
The plate is absolutely gorgeous. Bright and appealing presentations collected in a small, but generous piles stake their claim on the oversized dish. Moments later the miso soup is brought up to me. I eye everything with wonder and anticipation and begin in on the hot soup, while I decide my plan of attack for everything laid out before me.
With greedy chopsticks I scoop up the wasabi rice. I nibble the colorful salads and savor in their rich flavors and intoxicating aromas. The importance placed upon freshness at this establishment is clear. I delight in the grilled lotus root, and head for the yuba, one of my decidedly most favorite Japanese food items, as I have come to learn on this trip. I try one dumpling, and then the other. With my hands I split the crispy spring roll in half and it crackles open to reveal a bright array of cabbage, mushrooms and other goodies. I go back and forth from dish to dish. Each set of flavors is so unique, so distinct and so mouthwateringly enjoyable.
I’m famished, but I make myself slow down so I can savor everything, and although as I near completion of the many small dishes in front of me I find myself fairly full, I consider ordering a second round of the tasting plate just to be able to experience it one more time. The menu boasts a number of sweets, and I settled to grab one of these instead to eat later on on my walk through Fushimi Inari, a mountain shrine With an amazing plethora of red torri gates, one after another, lining the mountain.
By the time I am finished it’s clear to me, without a doubt, that this is the best meal I’ve had since I’ve been in Japan, and may be in sometime. Now I’m only in Kyoto for the day, I am certain that the next time I return I will be stopping here again.
If you ever find yourself in Kyoto there is this absolutely amazing, one of a kind, quaint little café serving a delightful play on small plate Japanese dishes mixed with a streak of international flair called Hobodo Cafe. You… Absolutely. Must. Go.
