Remembering a restaurant

A few years ago, my wife and I visited Tokyo together for the first time in December. We’d arrived inbound from Chiang Mai, with a layover in Busan. It felt like travelling from summer to winter. By the time we had settled into the hotel, it was the early evening, so we searched for a restaurant to have dinner. We both felt weary, perhaps even on the verge of getting sick. The neighborhood felt like a mix of business and residential; it wasn’t in the middle of action like Ginza or Shibuya, so it was feeling sleepy. After a couple of rejections, we finally stumbled upon a small restaurant called Hideyoshi. Working through our respective language barriers, we listened to the chef’s recommendations and made our orders. The meal was exactly what we needed. The standout was a vegetable soup, which my wife ordered. My own order was less clear and memorable, though I remember feeling much better after eating it. Neither of us got sick, and my wife believes it was because of the meal here.…