Hachi
We won't tell anyone about this Nishi-Azabu gem if you don't

Photos courtesy of Hachi

The best and worst part of being a bar reviewer is stumbling on a true find. Tokyo has its share of drinking spots, and sometimes it’s easy to settle into the unfortunate mindset that “a bar is a bar is a bar.” But then you come across a gem that fits like an old T-shirt, and you suddenly remember why people go out for drinks in the first place: to relax and unwind.

Hachi in Nishi-Azabu is kind of like that T-shirt.

Imagine it’s a rainy night—not a downpour, just a misty drizzle falling soft and static through the dark streets. You get off the train at Roppongi and walk downhill toward Nishi-Azabu. After about ten minutes, you spot a sign glowing quietly in an alley near the crossing: “Hachi.”

Ducking inside, the bartender nods to sit where you please. There’s only one customer anyway, an attractive woman in her 30s, and she’s chatting with the man as he prepares her a small snack. After you settle into a booth near the back, the barkeep takes a break from what he’s doing to bring you a pair of cold beers, then he goes back to work, leaving you in peace.

The place is cozy. It only has two black booths, an island to stand around, and a walk-up bar counter, but it feels neither cramped nor crowded. Perhaps it’s the worn wooden floors coupled with understated white concrete walls, and the refreshing absence of overzealous help that give Hachi its chill atmosphere. There’s a large window in the front by the door, which is folded open to let in the sound of rain slapping the pavement outside.

A mural of Bruce Lee graces the back wall, with ol’ Little Dragon poised to lay the smack down. The music meanders from reggae to soul to acoustic to soft funk to hip-hop. You pull out the cellphone and see you’re not getting any service, then put it away and forget about it.

The drink menu is, as you might expect, pretty good. There’s beer, from Carlsberg to Corona, wine, sake, shochu and awamori, plus regular cocktails and soft drinks. And all of it (it hurts a little to let this one out of the bag) is ¥500.
The food’s not bad either. You order the herbed lamb skewers and garlic potato wedges and learn the bartender is not only quick with the drinks, but he’s also one hell of a cook. Suddenly, munching on snacks and minding your own business, a certain nagging thought begins to tug on your sleeve. You remember you have to write about this place. You have to tell everybody about it.

This is the bar writer’s nightmare: having to share one of those places you’d rather keep for your own quiver. It’s selfish, yes, but a good bar is tough to find, and once you do, you find you’d sometimes prefer not to shout its name from the rooftops.
It’s a tough spot to be in. Unfortunately, duty (and my editor) calls, so, Esteemed Reader of Metropolis, let me tell you about Hachi. It’s a dirty bar that smells like cheese. The bartender can smell fear, and at closing time, most of the patrons fall into screaming fits. Honestly, I’d keep my distance if I were you.

4-11-3 Nishi-Azabu, Minato-ku. Tel: 03-3409-882. Open Mon-Sat 7pm-5am (LO 4am), closed Sun.

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