Food and Drink

The other week I walked past where the little shack in the last photo was and found a modern, much less shack-like structure going up in its place. The new shop isn’t going to be serving grilled chicken like the old one either, but it will at least be staying in the family, so it’s an evolution of sorts rather than an ending. A sight that led my mind to other, somewhat similar places, which in turn resulted in the series below. A celebration in a way of the simple pleasure of simple food that’s been very simply grilled and seasoned. An always available treat that’s absolutely impossible to tire of, especially when coupled with one’s alcoholic beverage of choice.

For what it’s worth, most of them are Tokyo establishments, except numbers seven and eight, which, if memory serves, were located in Nagano and Hokkaido respectively. Also, aside from the previously mentioned demolition, the only other place I know that almost certainly isn’t a going concern anymore is the stall in photo number four. The rest of them I’m happy to report are (more than likely) still in operation.

The now standard but incredibly distracting hand sanitiser bottles and vinyl screens make shooting bars a lot more difficult these days. On the other hand, the similarly important need for ventilation can have some visual benefits. Or at least it can for those stood on the outside looking in.

On the whole, I’ve always found bars more interesting to shoot in than restaurants. In most cases it tends to be quite a bit easier too. There’s the atmosphere for starters, plus the simple act of spending longer in a place makes it possible to feel fully at home. Being a very visible foreigner, and a far from common type of customer, it gives everyone else the chance to get similarly comfortable as well, meaning there’s generally little or no concern when the camera does eventually come out. Staying for an extended period of time also offers more in the way of conversation, and the opportunity, on some occasions, to hear about the sometimes very long lives of those behind the bar.

Of course none of that means old school restaurants don’t have any charm, because they most certainly do — they are just a bit harder for me to photograph in that’s all. Now and again though I do manage to get a few shots away, and below is a selection of those efforts from over the years. Several of them have appeared on Tokyo Times before, but these are re-edits, and location-wise they are a mix of Tokyo and beyond. I should also add that some of them are long gone, but thankfully a good few are still serving up the same delicious food with no changes to the dishes or decor whatsoever.

Quite why I find them so appealing isn’t easy to explain, but there really is something special about old and disused vending machines. Each one seems to have its own distinct personality, or at the very least a sort of quiet dignity. All of which is utter nonsense of course, as in reality they are simply decaying metal boxes, and yet somehow, in some way, they are also a lot more than that.

Now, whether there’s any truth in any of that is very subjective to say the least, but for me, the beauties below contain elements of everything I’ve tried, and likely failed, to articulate. Slightly older edits of a couple of the photos have appeared on Tokyo Times before. A few of the machines have too, although these are newer, or previously unpublished shots. The others are recent finds. Discoveries that, in their own inexplicable way, made the day they were stumbled upon way more memorable than it would have been otherwise.

The owner of the shop below started the business when she was 40 years old. Back then, penny sweet shops would have been fairly common, but as out of place as it seems today, a lot of little kids still enjoy going in. This big kid liked dropping by too. Whether I went in alone, or with clients on photowalks, the warm welcome and ready smile were always the same. The only thing that really changed was the old lady’s age. It tended to vary. Sometimes she was 91 or 92, and on other days it was 93 or 94. Also, she once told me she was going to call it a day at the end of the year, but of course come the following January, she was happily open again as usual.

Unfortunately, my fairly regular visits stopped due to the pandemic, but looking online one day, I read that she’d passed away. Hardly a surprise of course, but the shop still seemed to be open, so I wasn’t sure if the stories were true or not. Then, when walking by last week, I spoke to a local who confirmed that she had indeed died. Last year if he remembered correctly. Perhaps more surprising was confirmation that the shop is still going, as the daughter has now taken it over. That said, on this occasion at least, the quiet scene and closed shutters seemed appropriate, and yet at the same time it was a long life, and one that was spent doing what she clearly enjoyed doing. Longevity is a bit of a lottery of course, but managing the latter is definitely something to celebrate.