One evening in Tokyo, Alka and I found ourselves wandering the buzzing streets of Akihabara, the heart of manga culture in the city. Her daughter, my niece is fond of manga and Alka wanted to pick something for her. As the neon signs began to glow brighter and the crowds thinned a little, I noticed it was around 7, maybe 7:30 p.m. That’s when it hit me, it was dinnertime, not in India but certainly in Japan.
Now, here’s the thing: in Tokyo, a lot of restaurants close pretty early for dinner. And for us, being vegetarians, the dinner search gets a bit more intense. I occasionally eat eggs, but Alka doesn’t. So, our options narrow even further. And from experience, I know it’s not easy to just walk into a place in Japan and find solid vegetarian food, especially without some research.
This lesson hit me on an earlier trip to Japan with my daughter, when I realized that the usual “let’s wing it” strategy didn’t quite work here. That’s when I discovered this brilliant little app called Happy Cow, a godsend for vegetarians and vegans navigating foreign food scenes. I actually found it through an amazing online community on Facebook called Girls Love Travel. Just one of those lovely, serendipitous things that happen in a connected world.
So there I was, back in Tokyo, flipping out my Happy Cow app like a seasoned traveler, and voilà, it pointed us toward a ramen shop called Kyushu Jangara, which had vegan ramen on the menu. I can’t even explain the joy in that moment! Because, let’s be honest, when you’re vegetarian, you often miss out on those authentic, local flavors that define a place.
With Kyushu Jangara plugged into Google Maps, Alka and I set off, weaving through the glowing streets of Akihabara. There’s something really satisfying about walking with a purpose in a new city—especially when that purpose is food. The map led us to a cozy little shop tucked into a quiet corner, and sure enough, there was already a small queue forming outside.
We joined the line, excited and relieved. A queue usually means you’ve found the right spot, right?
As we waited, the man running the place came out- friendly, efficient, and clearly used to helping hungry, non-Japanese-speaking visitors. He handed us the menu and asked us to decide in advance. I told him with a smile, “We already know, we came for the vegan ramen!”
He grinned and said, “Would you like to add some drinks?” Now, I do enjoy a good beer with my meal, but Alka doesn’t drink alcohol much, and she’s not big on drinks in general. Still, I asked if the beer came in a small bottle. He nodded, “Yes, very small,” and then held up… a one-liter bottle. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Ah, maybe not that small!” I said. So, we decided to skip the drinks and just go with the vegan noodles. Simple, comforting, and exactly what we had been craving.
The queue moved faster than we expected, and before long, it was our turn to step inside. And the moment we entered, I was hit with that unmistakable feeling- this was one of those magical little Tokyo food joints you dream about.
The joy of finding Vegan Ramen at Kyushu Jangra in Akihabara Tokyo Japan with @alka_dhttps://t.co/4imoGg9S0R
— Mridula Dwivedi (@mridulablog) April 13, 2025
If you’ve ever watched Midnight Diner or Midnight Diner: Tokyo Stories, you’ll know exactly the vibe I’m talking about. Small wooden benches, low stools, warm lighting, a kind of lived-in coziness. The kind of place where the space is tight but the heart is big. Every little detail down to the clinking bowls and the occasional breeze from the door swinging open, felt like a scene out of the show.
There were two people behind the counter, working in this beautiful rhythm, like they owned the place (and maybe they did). One would take orders and chat, the other focused intently on the steaming pots of broth and noodles. There was this quiet energy about the place—calm, purposeful, comforting.
I was overjoyed. Not just because we were finally about to eat, but because we had stumbled into something that felt deeply local and authentic—and we didn’t have to compromise our food choices to be part of it.
Our bowls of vegan ramen arrived fairly quickly—hot, fragrant, and absolutely beautiful. Each bowl came with a pair of chopsticks and a soup spoon. Now, I’ve used chopsticks a bit here and there, but Alka? Not so much. She was doing her best, trying to scoop up the noodles with just the spoon, but it wasn’t really working.
I leaned over and said, “Take out the chopsticks, hang the noodles on them, and slurp!” Because honestly, that’s what everyone around us was doing—no shame, no hesitation. Just loud, happy slurping. It’s not just accepted in Japan; it’s encouraged. So that’s exactly what we did, slurping down those hot, flavorful noodles like we were born to do it.
And as we sat there, surrounded by the cozy, bustling energy of the place, the vibe was so much like Midnight Diner that I had this irresistible urge to raise my hand and shout, “Master!”—just like in the show. I didn’t, of course. But the feeling was there. That joy, that quiet connection with the place, the food, and the people around us. It was a perfect little Tokyo moment. One we won’t forget anytime soon.
We were hungry, and we wasted no time. The ramen disappeared fast every last slurp. We could’ve sat a little longer, soaked in the vibe, but we were mindful of the queue outside. This wasn’t a place to linger; it was one of those “eat, smile, and make room for the next lucky person” kind of spots. So, happy and content, we paid our bill and stepped outside into the cool Tokyo evening.
We paused for a moment in front of the shop, just standing there, looking at it like it was some kind of secret portal we’d just walked through. We giggled, we looked at each other and laughed.
We took a few photos and then, with warm bellies and full hearts, we started walking toward the metro station, already replaying the evening in our minds. Sometimes, the simplest meals turn into the most unforgettable memories.
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