The Izakaya Tradition: Why Japan's Backstreet Bars Are Coming to London

What Does Izakaya Actually Mean?

If you have ever wandered the backstreets of Tokyo, Osaka, or Fukuoka after dark, you will have encountered them. Narrow doorways marked by a red paper lantern. A counter with eight stools. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses spilling out into the alley. A hand-written menu on the wall, half of which you cannot read, all of which you want to try. This is the izakaya, and it is one of Japan's greatest contributions to the way human beings eat and drink together.

The word itself tells you almost everything you need to know. Izakaya is written with three characters: i (to stay), zaka (sake, or alcohol), and ya (place). A stay-drink-place. Not a restaurant in the formal sense, not quite a bar, but something in between that somehow manages to be more satisfying than either.

A History Rooted in Sake Shops

The izakaya tradition dates back to the Edo period, roughly the 1600s, when sake shops in Tokyo began allowing customers to drink on the premises. Over time, these shops started serving small dishes to accompany the drinks. Salted edamame. Grilled fish. Pickled vegetables. The food was never the main event; it existed in service of the drinking, the conversation, the simple pleasure of unwinding after a long day. But as with so many things in Japanese culture, what began as functional gradually became an art form.

By the twentieth century, izakayas were woven into the fabric of Japanese daily life. Every neighbourhood had at least one, often several. They served as unofficial community centres, places where colleagues decompressed after work, where friendships deepened over shared plates, where the rigid social hierarchies of Japanese professional life could be temporarily set aside. In an izakaya, the boss and the junior employee sit side by side, and the usual formalities soften. There is even a concept for this: bureiko, the suspension of normal social rules that happens when people drink together.

How Izakayas Differ From Restaurants

What makes an izakaya different from a restaurant? Several things, and they all matter. First, the ordering. In an izakaya, you do not choose a starter, a main, and a dessert. You order a few things to begin with, and then you keep ordering as the evening unfolds. A skewer of chicken here, a plate of pickles there, perhaps some grilled rice balls or a bowl of ramen to finish. The meal has no fixed shape. It grows organically, guided by appetite and curiosity.

Second, the atmosphere. Izakayas are loud, warm, and unapologetically convivial. When you walk in, the staff shout a greeting. The kitchen is open, often just a few feet from where you sit. You can hear the sizzle of the grill, smell the charcoal, watch the chef's hands at work. There is no separation between the people making the food and the people eating it. This intimacy is the whole point.

Third, the counter. While many izakayas have tables, the counter is the soul of the place. Sitting at the counter puts you in direct contact with the chef. You can ask questions, take recommendations, or simply watch someone practice their craft with quiet intensity. Some of the best meals of your life will happen on a barstool in an izakaya, with nothing between you and the person cooking your food.

The Food: Yakitori, Small Plates, and Sharing

The food itself follows a distinct logic. Yakitori, skewered chicken grilled over charcoal, is the backbone of many izakayas. Every part of the bird is used: thigh, breast, skin, heart, cartilage, tail. Each cut is seasoned simply, with either tare (a sweet soy glaze) or shio (salt), and grilled to precise doneness. Beyond yakitori, the izakaya repertoire includes edamame, agedashi tofu, karaage (fried chicken), tsukemono (pickled vegetables), gyoza, and countless other small plates designed to be shared.

The Drinking Culture

Then there is the drinking. Beer is the traditional opening move. An ice-cold nama biiru (draft beer) to start the evening, ordered almost reflexively. From there, the options expand: sake served cold, warm, or at room temperature depending on the season and the brew; shochu, a distilled spirit often mixed with soda or tea; highballs made with Japanese whisky; and increasingly, craft cocktails and natural wines. The izakaya does not judge what you drink. It simply wants you to enjoy it.

Why London Is Embracing the Izakaya

So why is this format finding such a natural home in London? The answer has several layers. London has always been a city that loves eating out, but the traditional restaurant format, with its fixed courses and two-hour time slots, does not suit every occasion. Sometimes you want to eat without committing to a three-course structure. Sometimes you want to start with a drink and see where the evening takes you. The izakaya format accommodates this perfectly.

There is also a growing appetite in London for authenticity and specificity. Diners are increasingly interested in regional traditions, in understanding the culture behind the food, in eating at places where the cooking reflects genuine knowledge rather than a surface-level nod to a cuisine. The izakaya, with its deep roots in Japanese social life and its highly specific approach to food and drink, satisfies this desire.

Over the past few years, a wave of izakaya-inspired openings has swept across the capital. Some lean more towards the drinking side, offering cocktail-forward menus with Japanese snacks. Others focus on the food, building their identity around a charcoal grill or a ramen pot. The best of them, the ones that truly capture the izakaya spirit, manage to balance both.

The Azuki and the Izakaya Spirit

The Azuki on Chancery Lane belongs to this wave, but its approach is rooted in something deeper than trend. Hidden down Rolls Passage, with a 2am late licence and a menu built around binchotan yakitori, handmade ramen, and carefully selected sake, it brings the authentic late-night izakaya experience to a part of London that desperately needed it. The counter seating, the open grill, the warmth of the welcome: these are not design choices borrowed from a mood board. They are the fundamental elements of a tradition that stretches back centuries.

The beauty of the izakaya is that it asks very little of you. There is no dress code. There is no need to plan. You can arrive alone or with a group, eat lightly or feast, stay for one drink or close the place down. The only requirement is a willingness to relax, to let the evening find its own rhythm, and to trust that the kitchen knows what it is doing.

London has always been good at adopting the best ideas from other food cultures and making them its own. The izakaya tradition, with its emphasis on hospitality, conviviality, and the simple pleasure of good food with good company, feels like it was made for this city. The only question is why it took so long to arrive.