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I have tried to make this post as spoiler-free as possible. For anyone planning to visit Kagaya you may still want to avoid reading until after your trip
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‘So how did you find out about my place?’ Mark asks us.
‘We found it online’ I say.
‘Ah. So you typed in ‘I want a craaaaaazzzyyy experience, hmm?’
If there’s one thing Tokyo does well, it’s novelty restaurants.
None however, come close to dining at Kagaya. Since Tokyo enables you to eat in prisons, mental institutions, ninja hideouts, Alice’s wonderland and haunted houses, that’s really saying something.
So, pray tell. What’s the most bizarre experience you can have in Tokyo without (intentionally) endangering yourself?
If you Google that question, Google responds with several typical results about how Japan is different to other countries, and how this can be confusing to anyone not from Japan. What it should be responding with however is just one word. KAGAYA.
For me, it’s both a blessing and a curse that Kagaya is as brilliant as it is. The blessing is obvious – I had such an incredible, ridiculous time that it ranks close to the top spot on my highlights of Tokyo list. The curse is that I can’t really tell you too much about it – otherwise you might go there yourself and all the awesome, insane and hilarious random acts of Mark will have been ruined by me and my big fun-spoiling typing hands.
So, begrudgingly without giving too much away, here is everything I can tell you about dining at Kagaya…
Kagaya is a restaurant in Minato, run by a man who goes only by the name ‘Mark’ and his extremely misplaced tiny old mum who adds to the bizarre environment with her calm, adorable elderly presence. Just imagine Mark stroking a flower on a book, loudly pretending to give it an orgasm, whilst a gentle old lady removes your plates with a polite ‘arigato gozaimasu’
This legitimately happened.
When we arrive at Kagaya we gingerly creep down a few steps to a plain white door (the sight of a frog confirms we are in the right place) and open it.
We are instantly greeted by the curious stares of several other diners, and of course Mark, who swiftly walks over to us. ‘Just a moment please’ he says solemnly, and closes the door.
As we stand waiting silently in the hallway, the sound of raucous laughter can be heard from beyond the door. What is going on in there?
A few seconds later the door is reopened.
Mark looks at us like any normal human being, and I explain we don’t have a reservation but it’s just 2 of us if there’s room. ‘Hmm…just 2…’ he muses, and sets about opening a folding table for us by a stereo system straight outta the eighties. You each sit on the floor in Kagaya, so I squeeze into my side of the table amongst the sprawling cables and wires.
Other diners stare at us quietly, sharing collectively whispered ‘ahh’ sounds and looking like excited school kids. This instantly fills me with an emotion somewhere between anxiety and extreme excitement.
Alistair and I glance at each other with smiles that say ‘I am so happy we came here’ and ‘Oh God what are we doing’ in equal measure.
Mark stands above us. ‘We start now OK?’
‘Ok?’ we reply.
‘Ok’ he confirms.
With an eruption of singing and clapping, it begins – our Kagaya dining experience. It is a cascade of unpredictable and nonsensical hilarity.
We order our food by singing a script written in crayon in a children’s colouring book. Our drinks are served in novelty beer glasses presented to us by Mark in the enacted country theme of our choice (I strongly recommend France or Brazil). Our chopsticks are held up by a porcelain dog and a plastic teddy bear we choose from a selection of tiny kids toys. Mark continually jumps, shouts, and generally just…performs…around us, to the sound of uncontrollable laughter from every table. There are frogs everywhere.
Once you’ve eaten whatever the hell you ordered in the first place, Mark begins to focus more on other diners, especially new arrivals, but this focus never disappears entirely. Every time new diners walk in, every time Mark interacts with someone, you are continually involved.
This is also partly down to the fact Kagaya is a tiny restaurant. It’s comparable to the size of an average front room, maybe smaller. It seats around 20 at a squeeze, which creates a fun comeradery. Sat closely to other people, mutual glances are exchanged (excitement, amusement, surprise, fear) clapping is contagiously shared, you all equally sympathise with one another as much as you gleefully look on each time one of you feels the brunt of Mark’s performance. You’re all in it together, the whole batshit load of it.
We see new people arrive and we stare at them excitedly, knowingly making ‘ahh’ sounds, waiting for them to sit down and begin their experience, and suddenly it all falls in to place. You enter Kagaya with no idea what to expect – you are pranked, you laugh, you slowly learn the ways of Mark. Then new people arrive who have no idea what to expect, but you are now in on the joke and cannot WAIT to see their reactions.
I could spend HOURS in Kagaya. I want to take all of my friends there. I want to see what happens when the America theme is selected. I want to see how many other novelty mugs there are. I want to see what you get when you sing ‘I have no tomorrow! I have no future!’ from the menu colouring book.
Mark has been described by Time Out as ‘the Japanese Robin Williams’ and I’m not sure there could be a better description. Think unpredictable, rude, over the top – there’s roleplaying, singing, dancing, impressions and above all extremely SILLY behaviour. But he never oversteps the mark (no pun intended), always sensing how far he can push it with each individual.
One minute he presses his face up against Alistair’s and flicks an elastic string at his crotch, the next he amiably pats a young guy on the back who he can tell is a little embarrassed about singing his menu order.
This makes Kagaya a surprisingly (especially to us Brits) comfortable place to be. There’s a laid back vibe, a friendly vibe, a just-do-whatever-the-hell-you-want-because-Mark-just-said-Alistair’s-face-looks-like-he-lives-in-Stockport-and-is-now-shouting-‘DERBYSHIRE’-at-all-the-guests-vibe.
Also, though I’m not sure it’s really that important, the food was delicious.
When we were ready to go we got the bill (an event in itself – think tiny rotating penis) and on our walk to the door Mark shouted ‘Thank you, bye bye!’
When we replied ‘Thanks, bye bye!’ almost everyone else sat around their tables stopped what they were doing and joyfully shouted ‘bye bye!’ waving us out.
Is there a more perfect example of the fun and friendly comeradery of this place?
In Kagaya you pay for the experience, not just the food.
We left with massive smiles and a million stories. As we were heading home on the subway, buzzing about everything that’d happened, I kept trying not to say the word ‘Kagaya’ in case it meant something super rude and awful in Japanese. ‘I bet it does’ I said ‘I bet we’re offending everyone on the train right now – it’s like Mark’s final prank’
When we got home we translated it. It turns out it means absolutely nothing at all in Japanese. The only meaning of ‘Kagaya’ I found was that it’s a Filipino word meaning ‘one of many that are similar to each other, a number of persons or things that are grouped together because they have something in common’.
So, either complete nonsense or a pretty nice description of the experience we had with the other diners. Perfect.
Things to note:
- Kagaya is located on Shinbashi 2-Chome.
Paste this into google maps to see exact location: 〒105-0004 Tokyo, Minato, Shinbashi, 2 Chome−15−12 花定ビル B1F
You can see Mark’s hand drawn map here (it’s great) - It’s a small room so reservations are recommended. Luckily this wasn’t necessary for us due to only being a pair, and visiting in January – a less touristed season.
- You will have to take your shoes off to sit down. Just FYI if, like me, most of your socks are full of holes.
- Go there with an open mind, be ready to laugh at everything (especially yourself), have no shame, get involved and you’ll have a great time.
- Oh and one last thing. During your visit, YOU MUST GO TO THE BATHROOM.
You’ll see why.
All words and images my own unless otherwise stated.
Jen Lee Travel 