Torikizoku Yakitori Izakaya

There is a magical place in Japan where every skewer, every beer, every single menu item is 360 yen. It is called Torikizoku, and it is basically what would happen if heaven opened a yakitori izakaya and decided to offer discounts.

Torikizoku is a chain, but not in a sad, corporate way. No. It is the kind of chain where you walk in and immediately feel like you have been adopted by a lively group of uncles who grill chicken for fun and mischief. The smell alone could convince a lifelong vegetarian to reconsider their entire belief system.

First, let us talk about the menu. Chicken, chicken, chicken, and oh look, more chicken. Wings, thighs, skin, gizzards, heart, cartilage, it is like a love letter to every part of the chicken that you never thought you would love. Do not be shy. Torikizoku encourages you to live your best life, one juicy, smoky bite at a time.

The first time you order, it feels like a mistake. Wait, are you really getting two huge skewers for that price? Is this some kind of grill-powered hallucination? You glance nervously around the restaurant, wondering when someone is going to come over and tell you there has been a terrible error and you owe them your house.

But no. That pile of chicken before you is real. And it only gets better. Torikizoku has an almost supernaturally addictive sauce called tare, a sticky, sweet, savory glaze that could probably broker world peace if they bottled it and dropped it out of airplanes.

And the drinks. Oh, the drinks. Beer so cold it hurts your feelings. Highballs that taste like they were mixed by a wizard. And yes, everything is 360 yen. Your wallet weeps tears of confused joy as you order another round, and another, and why not, another.

There are non-chicken items too, because variety is the spice of life and so is bacon-wrapped asparagus. Rice bowls, little cheese-stuffed goodies, crispy french fries that somehow taste better after three beers. It is not fine dining. It is better. It is fun dining.

The atmosphere at Torikizoku is something out of a sitcom. Loud, happy groups of friends shouting kanpai at each other. Office workers slowly melting out of their suits. Tourists with wide eyes and sauce on their faces. There is laughter, there is yelling, there are toasts being made to absolutely nothing at all.

Ordering is part of the fun too. These days, many locations have touchscreen menus, which means you can drunkenly order an entire chicken farm with just a few stabs of your finger. It feels dangerous. It feels right.

The real danger, of course, is how easy it is to lose track of how many sticks of chicken you have ordered. One minute you are sharing a few skewers, the next you are building a small yakitori fortress and defending it from your friends. Choose your companions wisely.

And do not be fooled by the casual vibe. Torikizoku has a cult following in Japan. People take their chicken seriously here. It is not uncommon to overhear heated debates about which skewer reigns supreme. (Pro tip: the momo thigh skewers with tare sauce are undefeated champions.)

When it is time to leave, you will smell like grilled meat and questionable decisions. You will also feel a deep, primal happiness that can only come from consuming an entire chicken’s worth of skewers while laughing until your face hurts.

Torikizoku is not just a meal. It is an experience. A smoky, sticky, delicious, slightly reckless experience that will have you planning your next visit before you even finish paying the bill.

And remember: when in doubt, order more chicken.