When it comes to cheap and cheerful Japanese eateries, there often seems to be a weird correlation between the amount of filth and the quality of the food. An anomaly that goes against conventional wisdom and dictates that the dirtier the place is, the more delicious the grub will be.

So on outside appearances at least, the fare in this place should be of a fairly high standard. But even if it’s not, there’s still the consolation of the fella doing the cooking looking like a thoroughly decent sort.

The end of the weekend it may have been, but on this occasion at least, some cheap beers and cheery friends were more than enough to subdue — at least temporarily — those dreaded Sunday night blues.

There is certainly no shortage of simple, rough and ready bars in Tokyo. Places where there’s no fuss or falseness whatsoever. Just unpretentious sustenance and surroundings.

Thankfully one doesn’t have to go far to find them either. In fact they can even be found on unlit, shuttered-up streets in the suburbs. Beacons of sorts in the dreary darkness.

This one was even more special too, as during its 23 year existence — it had been a tonkatsu restaurant before its current form — we were the very first western foreigners to walk through the door. A door that led, like so many others, into a tiny, antiquated establishment.

Where the dirty and dated surroundings only add to the experience.

Creating an ambience that’s just as nourishing as the wonderfully no-frills food and drink.

No airs and graces. No faffing about. Just no nonsense, back to basics, beer and food.

The likes of coffee shops and restaurants offer some relief on cold Tokyo days. But hot noodles. Bought cheaply. And wolfed down often frighteningly quickly. Really take some beating.