“Keep conversations to a minimum and focus on your meal,” says a typed folded A4 paper sign taped onto the back of a cupboard in front of me. Perched at a low counter on a padded diner stool, I do as I’m told, and pick up my bowl, slurping soup with a little porcelain spoon, and eating mouthfuls of noodles with chopsticks.
Rich warm broth drips down my chin, while the smell of frying tempura wafts from the tiny strip-lit kitchen in front of me, where Japanese chefs chatter. Behind me, hungry diners waiting in line for a seat are talking in hushed voices.
