Chef Anand Morwani's guide to flavours of Japan
From late-night ramen in Osaka to meditative omakase in Tokyo, my journey through Japan reshaped how I see food, discipline, and belonging.
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Instead of stethoscopes, I picked up spatulas. I was born into a family of doctors in Bandra, Mumbai, so naturally, I chose chaos. My culinary journey took me from Les Roches to Le Cordon Bleu, through microbreweries, pop-ups, pizzas and now to Gaijin, my newest restaurant in Mumbai. Gaijin literally means “foreigner,” and long before I visited Japan, that word fascinated me. I’ve always felt like a cultural magpie, collecting flavours, techniques and stories from everywhere I travel. Japan was never just a holiday destination; it was a pilgrimage. Gaijin, the restaurant, is my translation of that experience, an outsider looking in with reverence, curiosity and just enough audacity.
A culinary adventure
Japan is worth visiting for the same reason you revisit your favourite song: it reveals something new each time. The culture is disciplined yet playful, the food obsessive yet soulful, and the people precise yet incredibly warm once you break the ice. It’s a country where convenience store sandwiches can outshine fine dining elsewhere, where standing bars feel sacred, and where detail is treated like religion. I began my journey in Osaka, landing past midnight and checking into the Imperial Hotel Osaka at 1 am. Most people would sleep. I went hunting for ramen. A tiny, decades-old institution called Satsumakko Ramen Higashitemma Sohonten, recommended by the hotel staff, served garlicky pork tonkotsu ramen loaded with chashu, leeks and raw chopped garlic. It wasn’t the highest rated on Google, which only reinforced my belief that in Japan, you trust locals over algorithms. Across the street, we followed it up with yakitori and highballs at a neighbourhood izakaya before calling it a night.
Osaka is Japan’s street food capital; it doesn’t whisper; it shouts flavour. I wandered through Hozenji Yokocho into Dotonbori, eating takoyaki at Hanadako, okonomiyaki at Mizuno, and kushikatsu at Daruma. At Izakaya Toyo, the chef theatrically torched tuna over a hibachi using a blowtorch, part performance art, part precision cooking. Kuromon Market became my oyster-and-uni playground, while tachinomi standing bars reminded me that hospitality doesn’t need theatrics, it just needs sincerity. Cocktail spots like Bar Nayuta and Hollow Bar, where there are no menus and drinks are built entirely around conversation, deeply influenced how I think about service at Gaijin.
The Shinkansen from Osaka to Tokyo is a masterclass in efficiency. I grabbed 551 Horai dumplings and sake for the ride and watched the landscape blur past in perfect punctuality. For Indian travellers, the system is seamless, Google Maps works brilliantly, trains run to the minute, and a Suica card makes you feel local instantly. Tokyo, however, is another beast entirely. It doesn’t sleep; it simmers. In Omoide Yokocho and Golden Gai, I bar-hopped through tiny spaces packed with personality. One unforgettable night unfolded at Sip & Guzzle, a three-floor cocktail playground where a soy sauce–rimmed drink still lives rent-free in my head.
One of my favourite meals in Tokyo was at Shin Udon, where I waited 90 minutes for a bowl of freshly made udon slicked with butter and Parmesan and topped with tempura pork belly. In Japan, queues are a sign of trust; be patient. For yakiniku in Akasaka, Oboshimeshi delivered a multi-course Wagyu tasting from tongue to chateaubriand, each cut grilled live and served piece by piece with almost spiritual reverence. Kappabashi Street felt like Disneyland for chefs; I went twice and left with knives that now live in Gaijin’s kitchen.
And then there was Sushi Udatsu. A 12-course omakase with sake pairing that redefined sushi for me. The rice was warm, each grain distinct yet unified, as though held together by some invisible force. It was technical, emotional, and humbling all at once, the kind of meal that reminds you why you chose this profession in the first place.
Beyond food
I explored Harajuku’s vintage lanes, crossed Shibuya at midnight, visited shrines, shopped in Ginza and ended nights in jazz kissa bars. I highly recommend booking teamLab Planets in advance, an immersive art experience that feels like stepping inside a lucid dream. Even Narita Airport surprised me with exceptional dining options, proving that in Japan, the standard is simply different.
The best time to visit is spring for cherry blossoms or autumn for crisp, forgiving weather. Make reservations well in advance, carry some cash for smaller establishments, respect punctuality and silence on public transport, and don’t hesitate to have sake for breakfast if the moment calls for it; there’s no judgement here. Flights from Mumbai connect easily to both Osaka and Tokyo, and internal travel via Shinkansen is effortless.
For me, food and travel are the purest connectors of culture. As an Indian chef walking through Japan, I was always the outsider, the gaijin. But that perspective is where the magic lies. When you approach a culture with humility and hunger, it reveals itself generously. Gaijin, my restaurant (with my partners Rohan and Karan) in Mumbai, isn’t about replicating Japan; it’s about honouring it through my lens, a Bandra boy with a global appetite. Sometimes, being a foreigner is exactly what allows you to see clearly.
Images: Chef Anand Morwani
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