Issues

At the club

“The villa seemed to be waiting for us,” says Carlos Couturier, co-founder and one of four managing partners of Grupo Habita. “It was left exactly as it was originally conceived, everything from the old lamps to the bookshelves and original windows was in place. We had to buy it.”

The Mexican hospitality brand’s latest property, the sea-facing Baja Club in the coastal Mexican town of La Paz, occupies a mission-style villa dating from 1910. From the street, the building’s stucco walls, amber-glazed doors and colonial-style windows with ornate cast-iron grills give it a timeless feel. Grupo Habita has restored the old hacienda and joined forces with design firms Max von Werz Architects and Jaune Architecture. They worked to maintain the appeal of the old property while adding space and bringing the hotel up to date.

“One of the challenges was how to build on a site’s rich history and character but also to give it a new lease of life,” says the Mexico City-based firm’s Max von Werz. One example of this is in the wide, open-air spiral staircase, which swirls down to the pool and courtyard freckled with frangipani trees, against the backdrop of an original wall hewn from handmade bricks.

It’s these kinds of materials used in the original villa – brick, timber beams and terrazzo tiles – which formed the dna for the fit-out. “Our intention was to employ simple but tactile materials with visual qualities, giving the project a richness in its colours, textures and shades,” says Von Werz, adding that most of the finishes were produced or applied by hand, by artisans.

Inside, the spaces stay true to the original style but also to the use of Mexican designers and artisans. “We tried to have everything made nearby; if not in Baja California, then at least in Mexico,” says Jaune Architecture’s Paula Alvarez de Toledo. The villa’s original burgundy floor tiles were replicated in a bottle-green version made by hand in a La Paz studio. “Using local craftsmanship was a way to anchor the project and achieve authenticity with a strong connection to the old villa,” says Von Werz.

The ocean-facing rooms that spill onto balconies give a nod to the area’s maritime history with smooth, wood-panelled walls that look like they belong on a stately cruise ship. “The new building feels almost like it’s docked in downtown La Paz,” says Couturier, with a knowing nod to the nautical themes throughout the hotel.

With a restaurant, bar, spa and a rooftop and courtyard pool, guests needn’t venture too far for diversions either. But there’s a reason the team chose La Paz as the destination for their hotel. Despite the town’s sometimes unfairly garnered reputation for being a bit touristy, it has a number of draws, such as the beaches and the Unesco heritage islands, which Couturier believes are the area’s best-kept secret. “It feels like a calm fishermen’s port,” he says. “A paradise waiting to be discovered.”
bajaclubhotel.com

Good authority

Only Londoners who fell foul of the law will be familiar with the imposing former magistrate’s court and police station in Covent Garden. Having been empty since 2006, the Grade-II listed Victorian building has now been given a new lease of life as the first Nomad hotel outside the US.

New York-based Sydell Group (also a partner in The Ned) teamed up with interior design studio Roman and Williams to reimagine the cavernous, once-gloomy complex of court rooms and holding cells (where the likes of Oscar Wilde and the Kray twins spent a few uneasy nights), while paying homage to its history. The end result is a 91-key affair that nods to Nomad’s New York roots without straying far from its London lodgings just off The Strand.

Greeting guests on arrival is a grand, dimly lit lounge filled with towering fiddle-leaf figs, banana palms and cheese plants. An enormous mahogany staircase leads up to the guest rooms. The suites are housed in the older part of the building and some overlook the Royal Opera House. Marble-mosaic bathrooms, angular, mouth-blown-glass chandeliers, plush armchairs with a custom damask by Lelièvre of Paris are some of the touches that combine art deco with art nouveau flourishes.

There’s also art everywhere, gracing every part of the hotel. These range from simple Schiele-esque sketches to undulating, Moore-inspired sculptures. The hotel also commissioned giant abstract expressionist paintings by Swiss artist Caroline Denervaud, (who, fun fact, dances while painting) to feature as part of its impressive 1,600-piece art collection.

The smaller rooms are just that: on the more compact end but they make up for this with plenty of natural light and little notes that mark the Nomad out. Open the minibar and find a bottle of the house-mixed negroni ready to kick-start the evening. But hold off on pouring another: the second glass is best enjoyed at one of the green banquettes in the downstairs bar and diner, Side Hustle. This used to be the police station, alluded to by several Martin Parr portraits depicting trusty British bobbies. Instead of harsh sentences, today it serves Los Angeles-style street-food and agave-focused cocktails, telling of chef Ashley Abodeely’s time spent on the US West Coast.

The pièce de résistance, and an incredible work of architecture, is the main restaurant. The old courtyard, where carriages would once pull up bearing prisoners, is now an Edwardian-style orangery with rows of creepers and climbing plants, and porcelain-tiled walls. Few hotels in London have a space so airy and cheerful – none combine it with a past as rich and macabre either. Taking over a former court, police station and jail takes some tact – the Nomad has done it justice.
thenomadhotel.com

Beside the seaside

Portugal’s long Atlantic coast means that the Iberian nation is renowned for its beaches, ocean vistas and seafood. It gets even better when all of this comes together in the form of places where you can eat with your feet in the sand. So where better to rock up at a beach bar just a short drive from Lisbon?

Years ago beach-side eating in Portugal was in one of two camps: fancy restaurants serving haute cuisine or rustic seaside shacks. Today there’s a pleasing mix of the simple and the sublime. Sometimes there’s a menu, often a chalkboard; at other times it’s a case of asking the chef what the ocean offered that day: from alien-looking percebes (goose barnacles) to shellfish or gambas da costa, small and delicate shrimp caught along the coast in the Algarve and served solo with a pinch of flor de sal. Then there are the fish: from meaty European sea bass to croaker and tender sole, often adorned with little more than a squeeze of lemon, having been scorched over charcoal.

We start our journey in Comporta, a once-lonely fishing village on a seemingly endless stretch of coast that in the past decade has become a sought-after spot for weekend visitors, foreign property owners and hotel developers. Despite the boom and rising footfall, there are still shady escapes hidden away in the endless stretches of fragrant pinhals (pine trees) and among the shadows cast by gnarled cork oaks or olive trees. The beaches here remain quiet when compared to the sunspots further south in the Algarve, and are long and wide with low scrub and a backdrop of gently morphing dunes.

Unlike other parts of the coast, the best place to eat here is also the newest. On Praia do Carvalhal, 130km south of Lisbon and a short hop from the centre of Comporta proper, you’ll find the Sublime Comporta Beach Club, the 2019 seaside extension of a hotel of the same name, a short drive inland and founded in 2014 by Gonçalo Pessoa. The decor and curios are inspired by the ocean and unspoiled nature lying just beyond it. Think driftwood furniture, wicker lampshades and blue-and-white-striped directors’ chairs peppering the terrace. Huge windows overlook the beach and offer protection when the wind picks up. On stormy days, diners can enjoy these views, and during winter months – this is the only restaurant on this beach that stays open for them – it is a good place to sit by the open fire inside and have a glass of Portuguese white. And the pregado (turbot) is good enough to justify the entire trip.

Another favourite just a few minutes’ walk south is Pego beach and the sparingly named Sal, one of the oldest restaurants along this coast. It used to be called Aqui Hà Peixe, which means, rather pragmatically, “there are fish here”. Though the owners and the name have changed, its rustic and honest approach to food certainly hasn’t. “We are four business partners at Sal and we have all had connections with Comporta since childhood,” says owner Frederico da Cunha. “Since 2012 we’ve tried to retain the spirit of this relaxed area and keep it authentic,” he adds, pausing to contemplate before continuing. “Preserving the soul of Comporta is important and Sal is a good example of that.” The feeling inside is cosmopolitan; large tables of Portuguese families rub shoulders with couples from all over the world. The views over Pego beach run long and uninterrupted. Out front is a tended area with sunloungers, parasols and the odd lifeguard on duty. The bulhão pato clams are just one reason why so many return, as are the grilled prawns and a beautiful black rice dish with cuttlefish. The wine list is winning too, with all-but-unknown delights such as the Mafarrico Douro white or a sparkling brut courtesy of Quinta das Bàgeiras from the Bairrada wine region.

If you’re looking for somewhere closer to Lisbon there are quieter and more easy-going beaches around Silveira, sandwiched between the more famous surf spots of Ericeira and Peniche, which is an hour north by car. Here the crowds remain relatively thin, making it a favourite place for teaching tots to surf, not to mention the laid-back Noah Beach House, a restaurant and bar in a wooden pavilion decked out with long benches and loungers on which to loaf. On cooler days there’s a fire burning inside and plenty of places to watch the fierce Atlantic swell. During summer, though, there are striped beach huts complete with sunloungers and small tables from which to eat with your toes in the sand. The blackboard menu is where you’ll find the catch of the day chalked up beside the mariscos (seafood) and fish priced by the kilogram. That’s before you’ve tried the açorda de camarão, a tasty stew-like affair with prawns, or polvo da nossa costa à lagareiro, a medley of octopus, olive oil and garlicky goodness served with vegetables from the garden of a sister property, Areias do Seixo hotel, a short drive away.

Our last stop is Ericeira, a fishing town 50km north of Lisbon, up the coast from Silveira. It’s a surfing mecca with sandy beaches, colourful buildings and a surfeit of places to eat. The best address for seafood is Esplanada Furnas, which has been here since 1996. “I bought this small, wooden shack more than 25 years ago when it was just a simple seaside bar and transformed it into a seafood restaurant,” says Luísa Rodrigues who owns four other restaurants in town. “We are not a five-star establishment but our loyal clientele keeps on coming back for the food. Ultra-fresh fish are grilled on natural carvâo (charcoal made from coconut trees). We prefer using the same seasoning and way of preparing as the fishermen do.” Expect the ubiquitous nautical bric-a-brac, from rudders to ropes and miniature sailing boats mounted on the walls dressed in old wooden planks from a ship. In a more refined touch, there are wooden tables and chairs all draped in white linen and a shady terrace outside that might be one of the best places to eat in sight of the sea.

The restaurant has an (almost) panoramic view of the ocean. “The Atlantic comes so close that once I had to evacuate the restaurant,” says Rodrigues with a grin. Inside you will spot a vast seafood counter that’s weighed down with oysters, dourada (sea bream), robalo (sea bass), juicy lobster or the house speciality, carabinieri: giant red prawns that are butterflied then grilled over charcoal. Ironically, the key to success here, as in so many simple Portuguese restaurants, is letting the setting and natural ingredients sing – without making too much of a meal of it.

Hello sunshine

All the light moves

Models: Annabelle Belmondo, Alexis Petit.
Hair and Mack-up: Yoana TG

Fitting room

Shinji Sekizuka has managed to modernise zouri (traditional Japanese sandals) style without losing its historic importance. His destination shop, Hakimono Sekizuka, sits on the outskirts of Kyoto in a former timber warehouse. “I’ve always wanted to have my own shop,” says the 38-year-old craftsman, showing us around the handsome space with high ceilings in the nature-rich northern area of the city. The shop-cum-workshop showcases his beautiful, traditionally made sandals in a pared back manner, which is attracting customers from all across Japan. The backdrop, a quiet residential neighbourhood with no retailers at all, adds another refreshing contrast to the experience.

Sekizuka learned the craft of making this particular type of footwear at a famous institution in Kyoto. “I learnt the Japanese aesthetics there – what makes things beautiful,” he says. “Every small detail has to be perfect for the whole piece to work.” Following six years of training and working with a zouri maker, he opened his own shop in outer Kyoto last April. “I wanted to be close to nature,” he says. “I like listening to the sound of nature; it helps my creativity.”

After welcoming visitors to his shop, he takes them through a sandal range that starts at about ¥70,000 (€525). He provides a made-to-order service; customers can try samples – both modern and traditional – and select the right hanao strap and platform. Sekizuka measures their feet and makes a pair by hand in about two months. Despite the pandemic, some are happy to travel extra miles for quality. “It’s a mix of men and women; those in their twenties and thirties fancy a modern zouri to match their contemporary fashion style, while those in their forties and above come for something to match a kimono,” he says.

Celebrated fashion retailer Sonya Park had his pop-up at her Arts&Science shops in Tokyo and Kyoto. Made with traditional skills and modern design aesthetics, Sekizuka’s sandals can be sported with everything from vintage military trousers to neatly cropped chinos and colourful summer skirts.

Sekizuka also sells a small inventory of clothes and accessories at the gallery-cum-pop-up space. “Everything I carry has a story, so it was important to have a space where customers and I can engage in conversations,” he says.
hakimonosekizuka.com

’Hood intentions

Community fixture
Dictionary, Milan

Matteo Rancilio, owner of Milan clothing shop Dictionary, might wear a wristwatch but the chiming bells from the Basilica of Sant’Eustorgio in front of his business often do the job of marking the time. “It’s a beautiful landmark,” he says. “It feels as though I were in a historic old town, not a big city.” Rancilio has spent the past 10 years earning a living in this corner of Milan’s Ticinese district, alongside a park bookended by two majestic churches.

In that decade since opening, the one-time web developer-turned-menswear buyer has seen the retail landscape evolve. First, there were well-known monobrand jeans and footwear shops, which then moved to the central shopping areas. Next came streetwear and after that the athleisure boom.

Through it all, Rancilio has built a loyal following by charting his own course. He mixes niche Italian labels, including longtime favourite Camo, with its modern jackets, shirts and trousers, along with pieces from Portugal’s La Paz and ymc of London. His selection has made Dictionary a neighbourhood fixture – when he moved the shop a few hundred metres to his present address, it was after a regular client had spotted the “for rent” sign and gave him the heads-up.

On a sunny weekday afternoon when Monocle drops in, Rancilio stands in front of his shop smoking and chatting with a customer who is headed to the park with his dog. “This street is great in the afternoons when people are out for a stroll, on their bikes or coming back from work,” he says. “The atmosphere is relaxed, never rushed. People browse; they might stop in next door at the florist.”

His neighbour, Francesco Sorrentino, who co-owns the Clori flower shop, usually joins Rancilio to catch up on the day’s news. A few doors down at the restaurant on the piazza, residents are finishing off a lazy alfresco lunch, sitting under umbrellas and sipping espresso. One patron, an art director and Dictionary client, waves hello to Rancilio as he makes his way back to the office. “It’s great to have a little community like this all together in one spot,” he says. “It makes city life much more pleasant.”
dictionarymilano.it

Gathering place in the sun
Centre Commercial, Paris

When Sébastien Kopp and François-Ghislain Morillon decided to open their fashion and lifestyle shop Centre Commercial on Paris’s Rue de Marseille, everyone thought they were crazy. “Ten years ago the area was completely different; it was almost empty,” says Kopp, who also founded trainer brand Veja with Morillon in 2004. “There were a lot of tanneries around here; it was kind of midway between artisanal and industrial but it was my favourite street in Paris. It’s beautiful and very calm. There aren’t a lot of cars and it’s close to the canal.”

Today, Centre Commercial is established as a platform for European brands with a commitment to transparency of production, such as A Kind of Guise, Paraboot and Patagonia, and has attracted an international following. “We met lots of people along the way when we were doing Veja and this store is dedicated to them,” says Kopp, about his experience researching suppliers to produce sustainable trainers. The neighbourhood has since completely changed, with small businesses moving from the increasingly touristy Marais district nearby. When Monocle meets the owners one morning, the street is buzzing with activity. There is a queue trailing out of the nextdoor bakery, Du Pain et des Idées, and people are soaking up the sun on the terrace of the café opposite the shop.

The success of the retailer is due in no small part to the owners’ dedication to making the shop a community hub by hosting regular events, which help to attract people to the once-dreary area. “We knew that to promote it we had to give it a life because very few people walked past,” says Kopp. They have done everything from book launches to a cocktail party to promote a renewable-energy company. They also opened a second shop in the Latin Quarter in 2017 and Centre Commercial Kids, which opened around the corner in 2013, has the same ethos, teaming up with a neighbourhood bakery and florist to host workshops.

Kopp has a packed programme of events for the coming months. “I like having a shop that you can visit and not buy anything,” he says. “That’s a good sign. You can come here, talk about a project and go away having had a good time. That was the idea behind it.” While he admits that selling online has become essential, Kopp believes it is no substitute for bricks and mortar. “There needs to be something behind the screens. People need a place to gather and meet different people. We believe very strongly in this.”
centrecommercial.cc

Street value
Voo Store, Berlin

No signage indicates the existence of Voo Store on Oranienstrasse in Berlin’s Kreuzberg district. Yet cross the nondescript threshold and you will discover a sunny inner courtyard, in which a small community bubbles with creative energy. The shop is a pared-back concrete space offering established and up-and-coming luxury fashion brands, artisanal homeware and fragrances, cult magazines and coffee-table books. Beyond the shop’s tiled façade, the courtyard is populated by impeccably outfitted Berliners, drinking coffee and socialising.

“I’m not interested in having a place where people just go to buy something,” says Yasin Müjdeci, who founded the concept store in 2010 with his brother Kaan. The Turkish-born proprietors of Luzia, a beloved Oranienstrasse café-bar a few blocks away, had been planning to open a nightclub when they realised that the lack of fashion retailers in the area presented an opportunity. “I wanted it to be part of Kreuzberg so I knew it would never be a typical boutique,” says Müjdeci, going on to describe the neighbourhood’s mix of artists and punks, and its large Turkish community.

The duo started Voo Store on a shoestring, mostly organising events and selling a collection of items chosen with more passion than calculation. “In the beginning it was like a small collective,” says Müjdeci.

Today, Voo offers a meticulously put-together selection of luxury brands, from Prada to Kreuzberg’s own GmbH. And, after a well-timed renovation in 2020, the space looks sleeker than ever. Still the shop’s founding spirit remains unchanged. Business decisions are made based on personal preference, not sales figures. “If I don’t think a design is interesting, I just won’t buy it for the shop,” says Müjdeci. “We have no background in fashion retail so we don’t really follow the rules.”

While the space has proved popular, the owners’ simple grassroots business model sets it apart from other high-end developments in the area. “Gentrification is when someone from outside the community comes with a lot of money, buys a place and changes it,” says Müjdeci, noting that their approach in not deliberately targeting wealthy customers and emphasising the incubation of Kreuzberg’s existing diverse and creative population has proven successful. “Voo is not like this. We are living here and we are doing something different.”
vooberlin.com

Images: Andrea Pugiotto, Felix Brüggemann, Alex Cretey Systermans

Kerb your appetite

Helsinki’s distinctive wooden kiosks, built in the 1930s for the cancelled Olympic Games of 1940, have been given a new lease of life by business partners Laura Hansen and Tom Hansen, the duo behind much-loved neighbourhood bistro Kuurna. Each of the three kiosks serves its own take on classic street food. The first, Kiosquito, specialises in Mexican-style tacos and paletas (ice lollies). The second, Kiosuku, offers yakitori, a Japanese barbecue technique; while the third outlet, Kiosque, serves French café classics such as croque monsieurs and beignets (doughnuts). “The kiosks are very central and in key locations,” says Laura. “But since they haven’t been in use, people have forgotten about them. We wanted to bring them back to life and give people new spaces for enjoying urban life.”

The kiosks have been a hit at a time when indoor dining is still subject to restrictions. On our visit, they’re full of life, surrounded by patrons basking in the sunshine. To keep them appealing to all, the Hansens have kept the prices reasonable: yakitori skewers sell for €3 and tacos for €4, for instance. “Just like in Kuurna, our food is about simple, high-quality ingredients,” says Tom Hansen. Other cities hungry for fresh ways to reinvigorate their streets would do well to examine the kiosk model closely.
kuurna.fi

Peak times

For at least 3,000 years the transumanza, a tradition of moving flocks of sheep and herds of goats between mountain and pasture, has been practised across the rocky slopes of Abruzzo. Something about this almost tidal rhythm captures the mood of the sparsely populated mountainous territory wedged between better known Lazio and Puglia. Abruzzo is one of the last places in Europe where the seasonal migration of animals continues to define almost every aspect of life. In its medieval villages, nearly everything you can do or consume is closely linked to the animals and land, including the very strong wine that is poured, generously, throughout long, joyful lunches.

Declared an “Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity” by Unesco in 2019, the movement of flocks has created bonds between people, animals and ecosystems. Twice a year, in autumn and spring, hundreds of animals are shepherded with the help of horses, dogs and, occasionally, shepherds’ families.

Outsiders who want to experience the soul of Abruzzo, one of Italy’s most isolated regions, can join some of the flock movements. This entails a long weekend of walking – take sturdy shoes – with more than 1,000 sheep and goats moving towards the pastures of the Piana delle Cinque Miglia, a grazing area near the village of Roccaraso. Departures are ususally from the hamlet of Anversa degli Abruzzi in Gole del Sagittario, a stunning nature reserve in the L’Aquila region.

Among Anversa degli Abruzzi’s 400 villagers is Nunzio Marcelli, who presents himself to us with a firm handshake and even more imposing beard. Marcelli studied economics at the Sapienza Università di Roma but spends his days working the land and herding sheep, battling the push of modernity that threatens the age-old traditions of Abruzzo. “The goats and sheep of the transumanza once followed tratturi, ancient paths that were part of an immense network of trails along which churches, taverns and bridges were built,” he says. “These natural highways could be up to 111 metres wide, and up to 245km in length but only a few are still accessible. Today only a few remain; most have been swallowed by roads, villages and private land. Along the way, strategically placed resting points called riposi would occasionally appear, providing shade and water to shepherds and their flocks,” adds Marcelli, who would like to see such waypoints and trails protected further and become Unesco World Heritage Sites.

Marcelli’s co-operative farm, La Porta dei Parchi, is open to visitors who want to learn more about the traditional way of farming in Abruzzo. There is also a bed and breakfast where simple but excellent food is served at wooden benches overlooking the spectacular countryside. Visitors can buy organic products from the farm at a tiny on-site shop.

To ensure the continued existence of traditional Abruzzese agriculture, Marcelli has also launched Adopt-a-Sheep, an initiative that supports villagers’ time-honoured methods of herding. In return for an annual fee, sheep-adopters receive a selection of Abruzzo’s finest organic cheese, meat, woollen socks and other accessories a few times a year. There is nothing industrial about the scale of the products that Marcelli makes. Members of his programme might get artisanal lamb and goat salami; brigantaccio (this area’s pecorino) made from raw sheep’s milk; or ricotta lightly smoked with juniper. Marcelli’s philosophy of producing fewer but better products provides lessons that are applicable well beyond rural Abruzzo.

Anversa, a village of medieval houses in a dramatic landscape of snow-covered Apennine peaks, is the perfect point of departure from which to discover the region. Residents meet several times a day in the village bar for coffee or aperitivi, but you will have to rise early to spot the shepherds opening the gates of farms to release their sheep. Flanked by canny maremmano sheepdogs and centuries of folk wisdom, the shepherds know exactly what their flocks need and how to protect them from wolves and bears. Horses and donkeys are brought along to serve as pack animals and carry foods including ricotta, pecorino, scamorza and caciottine for the walk.

A typical transumanza for visitors might take three days and cover about 60km. The accommodation is homely but that means home-cooked meals, Abruzzese wine and plenty of impromptu dances to mountain folk songs. The landscape, despite being only 150km east of Rome, seems very far from the concerns of fast-paced city life. The rhythm that’s important here is that of the animals who walk, stop, eat and graze on the mountains. In October the transumanza moves in the opposite direction, from the mountains to the farms, as the cycle begins again.

Eat and greet

After months of shuttered stillness, a friendly hum of activity is returning to a verdant corner in Zürich’s Sihlfield neighbourhood. Friends and family gather under the cheerful coloured awnings and simple string lights of the terrace at Ooki Pavillon, the second restaurant from Hiroyuki Oki and his son Ino – the pair behind the popular original Ooki izakaya (a Japanese pub) that opened in the Wiedikon quarter in 2016.

As for most in the hospitality trade, the past year has been incredibly tough for the Ooki team, who needed to juggle a set of ever-changing pandemic restrictions. “It is always an important decision, deciding whether to open a new restaurant,” says Ino, pouring Monocle a cup of genmaicha tea. “But the pandemic made the decision even more complicated.”

Ooki Pavillon is in a much quieter part of the city – an overlooked neighbourhood mainly known for Letzigrund stadium. But with new apartment blocks springing up to the north and the Lochergut neighbourhood to the south buzzing with bars and restaurants, there is a new sense of life on the once-quiet streets. “This area will be popping for sure in the coming years,” says Ino. “That feeling of opportunity in the neighbourhood and the building itself were the main reasons we decided to come out here.”

Built in the 1950s as the leisure room for the city’s first high-rise apartment blocks, the restaurant is housed in one of just a handful of pavilions in Zürich. Its eight glass sides open out onto a cheerful garden, its expanse of well-spaced tables and chairs shaded by mature trees. Inside, the protected building is spacious and yet surprisingly cosy thanks to the careful fit-out of the interior. The original rust-red ceiling, the warm glow of the spherical glass lights and the honey-coloured Kreuzzargen chairs designed by Swiss architect and industrial designer Max Bill in 1951 are complemented by thoughtful new additions; koushimado-style sliding panels and a saké-laden bar add a touch of Tokyo, while a custom-made plywood seating unit softened by planting visually breaks the restaurant floor.

The atmosphere is convivial and familiar, not least because of the owners. “The fact that we are family – two of my siblings also work here, the third runs the izakaya – as well as being friends is one of the biggest drivers of the vibe,” says Ino. “We like the casual way a lot and this is how we live it: with an easy-going mood and customer service to make people feel at home.”

And it is clearly working. Despite only opening in April 2021, and with some restrictions still in place, Ooki Pavillon already has a crowd of regulars. Once restrictions are lifted, it will be even easier to while away the hours here, enjoying a leisurely lunch of avocado and yuzu tartar, gyoza and other ippinryouri (small dishes). You can refuel after a busy morning with matcha and Japanese sweets on the sunny terrace or settle in for the night with the signature tantanmen ramen (offered in spicy, mega spicy, or crazy spicy form) with a cold, crisp beer from Turbinenbräu, a brewery just one tram stop away. This is the sort of fusion we could get on board with.
pavillon.ooki.tokyo