I had one free night in Tokyo—only one chance to connect with a Japanese acquaintance from a dive trip on Midway Atoll 10 years earlier. Our mutual friend, Shintaido master Haruyoshi Fugaku Ito, suggested we meet at the Shinjuku rail station and walk around the corner to Fukuhachi (“Happy Eight”) in the district’s legendary yakitori alley (“Omoide Yokocho,” which apparently translates as something less savory). Operated for decades by Ito’s old friends Kazuko and Hatsumi Muraoka, Fukuhachi is a classic, serving grilled skewers of various meats, organs, and vegetables to mostly locals. Because of the connection through friendship, we were able to slip down a sub-alley and enter through the rear, squeeze ourselves into the back corner, and eat round after round of yakitori, washed down with lots of cold beer, and lots of laughs—a world apart from the supermodern high-rise glitz of the neighborhood beyond the alley.
Visitors at Philo Apple Farm can stay in the second-floor Room with a View in the main building or book one of the three intimate cottages.
Photo by Brooke Vaughan
Dishes at the Bewildered Pig incorporate ingredients sourced from the surrounding region.
Photo by Brendan McGuigan
Long Meadow Ranch opened a new tasting room at the Madrones in 2018.
Photo by Shea Evans for Long Meadow Ranch
Hendy Woods State Park spans 816 acres and includes two old-growth redwood groves.
Photo by Carlos Chavarría
Anderson Valley is a 15-mile stretch between CA-1 and CA-128.
Photo by Carlos Chavarría
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Tokyo Eats at Street Level
I had one free night in Tokyo—only one chance to connect with a Japanese acquaintance from a dive trip on Midway Atoll 10 years earlier. Our mutual friend, Shintaido master Haruyoshi Fugaku Ito, suggested we meet at the Shinjuku rail station and walk around the corner to Fukuhachi (“Happy Eight”) in the district’s legendary yakitori alley (“Omoide Yokocho,” which apparently translates as something less savory). Operated for decades by Ito’s old friends Kazuko and Hatsumi Muraoka, Fukuhachi is a classic, serving grilled skewers of various meats, organs, and vegetables to mostly locals. Because of the connection through friendship, we were able to slip down a sub-alley and enter through the rear, squeeze ourselves into the back corner, and eat round after round of yakitori, washed down with lots of cold beer, and lots of laughs—a world apart from the supermodern high-rise glitz of the neighborhood beyond the alley.
