A small sign hangs unassumingly before the entrance to a cottage-like storefront. It reads “Norabo.” As we stood on the front porch, peering in through the paned-glass window, we could see that the intimate twelve seat dining room was full, save two seats. We wasted no time, and entered. The name Norabo is derived from norabona, a Japanese vegetable related to rapini.

We started with a round of Edelpils beer (¥600), which matched well with the bitterness of the norabona and jelled dashi which we received as an otoshi before placing our order.

To begin our meal we chose a dish of steamed pork shoulder (¥780). The pork, a variety from Miyazaki, was meltingly tender. The fat blended well with the juices at the bottom of the bowl, becoming a sort of warm vinaigrette for the generous accompaniment of norabona, shiitake and shredded daikon and carrot.

A small but well-selected sake list offered six choices. We went with two to share: Makihata from Niigata (¥700) and Kaishun from Shimane (¥700). The Makihata was mild, with a flowery nose, while the Kaishun was a touch sweeter. Each paired nicely with Norabo’s subtle and uncomplicated Japanese cooking.

The main course was a kinmedai donabe (¥980). When the lid of the pot was removed, the fragrance of dashi mixed with the buttery scent of red snapper filled the air. The pot contained the season’s bounty: Shiitake, turnips, burdock root and green beans filled half of the earthenware vessel, leaving just enough space for the fish and custard-like liver which were the supposed main features of the dish. We realized after our first two courses that the vegetables took center stage, and all other ingredients were selected mainly to lend depth and further flavor. This can only work when care is taken to select the finest ingredients, and that is just the case here.

Despite the option of dessert, we decided upon a savory mushroom and lily bulb chawanmushi (¥680) to enjoy with the remainder of our sake. The meatiness of the mushrooms and the sweetness of the lily bulb permeated the smooth flesh of the custard. We found ourselves marveling at the fact that we felt more alive and refreshed with each mouthful even after three courses—a testament to skillful and respectful preparations of the kitchen.