I still remember the exact moment I realized I had been doing everything wrong in Japanese restaurants. It was my third week living in Japan, and I was sitting in a tiny tonkatsu shop in Meguro, Tokyo. I had just wiped my face with the hot towel, blown my nose into it, and then casually stuck my chopsticks upright in my rice while I reached for my phone. The elderly couple next to me exchanged a look that could have frozen miso soup. Nobody said anything, of course. This is Japan. But I knew something was off.
It took a kind Japanese coworker and about three years of living here to piece together the unwritten rulebook of Japanese dining. Once you understand these customs, eating out in Japan transforms from a slightly anxious experience into something genuinely joyful. The rituals exist to make the meal better for everyone at the table.
So here it is: everything I wish someone had told me before my first restaurant meal in Japan.
The Oshibori: Your Hot Towel Is Not a Napkin
The moment you sit down at almost any Japanese restaurant, you will receive an oshibori, a small, often steaming hot, rolled-up towel. In winter, it feels like a tiny gift from the universe. In summer, some places serve them cold.
The oshibori is for wiping your hands. That is it. You use it to clean your hands before the meal, fold it neatly, and set it aside. Throughout the meal, you can use it again to wipe your fingers if they get messy.
It is not for wiping your face, your neck, or blowing your nose. I know the warm towel on your face feels incredible after a long day of walking around temples, but it is considered poor manners. At casual izakayas, you might see some older salarymen wiping their faces with them. But at any restaurant where you want to make a good impression, stick to hands only.
Itadakimasu and Gochisousama: The Bookends of Every Meal
Before eating, Japanese people say “itadakimasu” (ee-tah-dah-kee-mahss). It roughly translates to “I humbly receive,” and it is a way of expressing gratitude for the food, the people who prepared it, and the ingredients themselves. A quiet, sincere “itadakimasu” with a small nod is perfect.
When you finish, you say “gochisousama deshita” (go-chee-so-sa-ma desh-ta), meaning something like “it was a feast.” You can say this to your server, to the chef at a counter, or just quietly to yourself. At ramen shops and izakayas, it is common to say it as you leave.
These two phrases are the single most important things you can learn for dining in Japan. I have seen stone-faced ramen masters break into a smile when a tourist says gochisousama on the way out. It shows respect, and respect is the currency that matters most here.
Chopstick Rules: The Things That Actually Matter
There are approximately one million chopstick rules in Japanese culture, and most Japanese people under 40 do not follow all of them perfectly either. But a few are genuinely important.
Never stick your chopsticks upright in rice. This mimics the incense sticks placed in rice at Buddhist funeral ceremonies. It is associated with death. When you are not using your chopsticks, rest them on the chopstick rest (hashioki) or across the top of your bowl.
Never pass food from chopstick to chopstick. During cremation ceremonies, family members pass bones between chopsticks. Passing food this way mimics the ritual. If you want to share, place it on the other person’s plate.
Do not point with your chopsticks. Pointing at people or things with chopsticks while talking is rude.
Do not rub disposable chopsticks together. This implies the restaurant is cheap. At a street food stall, nobody cares. At a proper restaurant, skip the rubbing.
If you avoid these four, you are doing better than many tourists and some Japanese people too.
Slurping Noodles: Not Just Allowed, Encouraged
When eating ramen, soba, udon, or any noodle soup in Japan, you are expected to slurp. Loudly. Slurping cools the noodles slightly and lets you take in both noodles and broth simultaneously. It also signals to the chef that you are enjoying the food.
The first time I really let loose slurping at Ichiran in Shinjuku (bowls from around 1,090 yen), I felt self-conscious for about three seconds. Then I heard the guy in the booth next to me going at it like a vacuum cleaner, and I relaxed.
One important note: slurping is for noodles only. Do not slurp your miso soup, your curry rice, or your sashimi.
The Otoshi: That Dish You Did Not Order
You sit down at an izakaya. Before you have even opened the menu, a small plate of food appears. Maybe edamame, maybe simmered vegetables, maybe tofu in sauce. You did not order it.
This is the otoshi (sometimes called tsukidashi), essentially a cover charge disguised as a small appetizer. It typically costs 300 to 500 yen per person and will appear on your bill whether you eat it or not. Please do not try to send it back. The otoshi is a deeply established part of izakaya culture, subsidizing the cost of table space for customers who might sit and drink for hours.
At chains like Torikizoku (where most items are 350 yen) or Uotami, the otoshi is standard. At higher-end izakayas like Uoshin in Kyoto’s Pontocho district, it might be a beautifully prepared seasonal dish. Either way, enjoy it.
Ordering at an Izakaya (Without Stress)
When you first sit down, almost everyone starts with drinks. “Toriaezu nama” means “draft beer for now,” and saying it will make you sound like a regular. Draft beer typically runs 490 to 590 yen. If you do not drink, ordering oolong tea or a soft drink is perfectly normal.
Izakaya ordering is communal: dishes come to the center for everyone to share. Order one or two dishes per person to start, then add more. Safe bets include karaage (fried chicken, 490 to 690 yen), yakitori (chicken skewers, 150 to 300 yen each), dashimaki tamago (rolled omelet, around 500 yen), and edamame.
Many izakayas have a call button on the table to summon staff. At places without one, raise your hand and say “sumimasen.” Many izakayas also offer “nomihodai” (all-you-can-drink) plans for around 1,500 to 2,000 yen for 90 to 120 minutes.
Paying the Bill: No Splitting, No Tipping
At most restaurants, you do not ask for the bill at the table. Instead, take your bill slip to the register near the entrance. You can say “okaikei onegaishimasu” if needed, but usually you simply walk to the register with your slip.
Do not tip. There is no tipping in Japan. Not at restaurants, bars, taxis, or hotels. Leaving money on the table will confuse your server. They may chase you down the street thinking you forgot your change. In Japan, excellent service is a professional standard, not something that needs extra incentive. Tipping can actually feel insulting.
For splitting the bill, groups often split evenly (“warikan”) with one person paying and others transferring via cash or PayPay. Going to the register and asking to split five ways can cause headaches and is not standard.
Payment methods: cash is still widely used, though credit cards work at most chains and mid-range places. IC cards (Suica, PASMO) work at many chains. PayPay is accepted at a huge number of restaurants. When in doubt, carry 5,000 to 10,000 yen in cash.
Entering and Leaving: The Small Details
When you walk in, you will hear a loud “irasshaimase!” (welcome). You do not need to respond. A smile or nod is fine.
At many restaurants, especially traditional spots, you will need to remove your shoes at the entrance. Look for a genkan (entryway step) and shoe shelf. Slip-on shoes are your best friend in Japan.
At ticket machine restaurants (common for ramen, gyudon chains like Yoshinoya and Matsuya, and curry places), you order and pay at a machine before sitting. Many now have English options. Insert cash or tap your IC card, select items, and hand the ticket to staff.
Quick Tips for Specific Situations
Sushi counters: Dip the fish side lightly into soy sauce, not the rice. Eating nigiri with your hands is acceptable. Ginger is a palate cleanser, not a topping. At conveyor belt chains like Sushiro or Kura Sushi, plates run 115 to 330 yen.
Tempura restaurants: Eat each piece immediately. At counter spots like Tsunahachi in Shinjuku (lunch sets from 1,600 yen), the chef places pieces on your plate one at a time.
Yakiniku: Use tongs for raw meat on the grill, chopsticks for cooked meat. Gyukaku offers all-you-can-eat plans starting around 3,500 yen.
The Mistakes Everyone Makes (and Why It Is Fine)
Japanese people do not expect you to be perfect. They expect you to try. If you accidentally use your chopsticks wrong, nobody will kick you out. The effort itself is what matters. I have watched restaurant staff visibly light up when a tourist bows slightly, says gochisousama deshita, and carefully stacks their dishes.
After five years of eating at Japanese restaurants nearly every day, I still learn new things. Last month, at a kaiseki restaurant in Kyoto’s Gion district, I discovered you are supposed to lift the soup bowl lid with your right hand, transfer it to your left, and place it upside down to the right. Did I know that before? No. Did anyone judge me? Not that I could tell.
Learn the basics, try your best, and then relax and enjoy one of the greatest dining cultures on Earth. Now go find a tiny izakaya with five seats, order a beer, say itadakimasu, and let Japan feed you. You will not regret it.
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