6.3.1 Shokudo Okabe: The Integrity of a Small Shop#

On December 16th, while on our way to Okayama Korakuen Garden, I was drawn to a large mural. Although I don’t understand Japanese, I recognized the characters for “Tofu” and asked Gemini to translate the rest for me.

The text on the mural was incredibly elegant, bordering on literary. The owner used a pun to write: “One should live life like tofu: square (upright) yet soft (flexible).” He further compared tofu to a “white canvas,” stating that while it appears plain, it is capable of carrying a multitude of colorful flavors.

It turned out to be the locally renowned tofu specialty shop—Shokudo Okabe. We immediately decided to double back and try it after visiting Korakuen.

An Atmosphere Like “Midnight Diner”#

Pushing open the door, we found a quintessential small eatery. I estimated there were only about a dozen counter seats surrounding an open kitchen. The shop does not take reservations, and there is often a queue outside; luckily, we only had to wait just over ten minutes before being seated.

Sitting at the counter with the staff busily preparing food right before our eyes, the close interaction and the steam rising from the pots inevitably reminded me of the heartwarming scenes from the Japanese drama Midnight Diner.

Quality Over Quantity#

The menu here is surprisingly simple, consisting of just three set meals (teishoku): the signature “Okabe Teishoku” (freshly deep-fried tofu) and limited-quantity items like the Raw Yuba (Tofu Skin) Rice Bowl. The “Okabe Teishoku” has been the shop’s crowning jewel since it opened, while the other two options are limited to just fifteen servings per day.

In Midnight Diner, the menu also lists only three items, but the Master will make hidden dishes based on customers’ preferences. Here, however, the owner focuses solely on perfecting these few dishes and will not be distracted by trying to cater to everyone’s whims!

This made me think of the dining ecosystem in Hong Kong. Once a restaurant gains fame, it often cannot resist the temptation to expand—enlarging the premises, opening branches, or even franchising. The menu is then frantically padded to appeal to the masses, often running to several pages with over a hundred choices. From a business perspective, a small shop will never make you rich, so expanding after finding fame is understandable. But can the original philosophy and quality be maintained after expansion? Furthermore, can a single kitchen truly cook over a hundred dishes to perfection?

In contrast, this small Japanese shop has spent decades doing one thing: making these few pieces of tofu absolutely divine. This steadfastness to “resist getting big” and this insistence on quality is truly admirable.

Returning to the Origin of Taste#

My wife ordered the signature “Okabe Teishoku.” The stars of the show were two large pieces of Atsuage (deep-fried tofu) fresh from the oil fryer. Because it is fried to order, the skin was golden and crispy, while one bite revealed an interior as smooth and tender as pudding, releasing the rich aroma of soybeans instantly into the mouth. I tried a piece, and it was indeed