Jump out at Roppongi Crossing, go towards Midtown, turn right at “Konami”, then go down along the smoothly twisting lane until on your right you hit upon this place.

Korean BBQs are more or less identical but this is my favorite because:

1 — It isn’t as trashy or over luxury as the rest.

2 — They have everything you might want to eat including marbled beef, seafood, etc., and the whole process won’t take more than 90 minutes.

First, you should find yourself a cheerful company – it’s a must because Korean meat dinner is madly funny.

I don’t get why it’s so poorly spread in Russia. Actually, it’s a perfect Russian-style revelry when you can fry meat for each other, and lean across the tables with laughter, and do all kinds of things that go by the international brand “dushevnoe” [i.e. typical for the Russian Soul].

I guess it happens so because the restaurateurs can vividly imagine a drunk company of people who are at odds about something (some stand for Putin, others for Rasputin) so strongly that one of the respectable guests starts to rhythmically press the head of another one into the hissing coals, pressing it the way that …

Ahem… oh well…

We come in.

On the right, there is a fridge with wagyu, with lots of wagyu starting from some scraps up to A5.

Before the bacchanalia begins I recommend to order sour-spicy beef soup.

We sit down, they bring us the hyper powerful coals, and there we go!

“Put the neat’s tongue! Who moved the scallop from the center?! / Whose is this piece of marbled meat? Ok, will be mine! Is someone ordering the chicken?! Lay it down / Lay it down, as it is said in the papers, one, two, three… Do you see the hieroglyphs? Why do you think they’re drawn here?? Actually, for you to do it properly! Gin. Who has thrown the marinated ribs into the corner of the brazier? Gin. It’s a crime! Gin. Throw more shrimps, look how fast they’re getting red! Ohhhhh…. What a drop: look what they’ve brought us! Put, put it on the grill. Gin. Zinfandel. Malbec. Yuzu wine. The last glass, shall we? Sumimasen?!

Afterwards you get outside, into the neon murk of this piece of the City, your gaze confronts a rare inscription in English (though not that rare in this area), the sign proudly says “meat sushi”.

And like that wolf in the animation about the Ukrainian wedding, you slowly plod up towards Roppongi where some absolutely different kinds of entertainment are waiting for you. And there you’ll lose weight.

Rapidly.

P.S. It’s a pity I’ve taken so little photos. Everyone was dead drunk as always in this place, that’s the reason, I guess.