Nodaiwa Azabu-Iikura

Nodaiwa is Tokyo's most quietly serious address for unagi, a fifth-generation eel house that has repeated the same ritual -- split, skewer, steam, char-grill -- since the Kansei era, more than two centuries ago.

The kitchen follows the Edo-mae method rather than the more direct Kansai style: each eel is steamed before it ever meets the charcoal, a step that renders out excess fat and leaves the flesh softer and cleaner-tasting than eel grilled straight over flame. What arrives in the lacquered unaju box is the result of that patience -- rice under eel so tender it barely needs the chopsticks, glazed in a tare the family has guarded since the Edo period. During the WWII air raids on Tokyo, the sauce was moved into a bomb shelter rather than left behind to burn; the current proprietor -- who lived through it himself as a young man -- was told at the time to treat it as second in importance only to his own life. The accompanying kimosui, a clear soup made with eel liver, is a small bitter counterpoint worth ordering if it's on offer.

The dining room sits near the Iikura crossing within sight of Tokyo Tower, split between low tables and a run of tatami seating, with private rooms available for the anniversary dinners and business meals it quietly specializes in. Staff in kimono move without hurry, and nothing about the kitchen is rushed either -- plan for a lingering meal rather than a fast lunch.

Reservations are essential, especially for weekend dinners; call ahead rather than walking in. The restaurant closes on Sundays. Despite the old-Tokyo pedigree, credit cards are accepted, so cash isn't required. Worth knowing: the eel-based broth runs through most of the menu, including the soup, so this isn't a stop for strict vegetarians -- but for pescatarians, it's one of the city's best.