Japonico

Damn it all. This tell-all tale of complete gluttony has been ruined by gluttony itself. I’ve gone and misplaced the several sheets of paper I laboriously scribbled my review on after downing an entire bottle of sake at Japonico. And I’ve only myself to blame.

That said, the experience has very much lingered in my head. How could I forget the red-tinged high-ceilinged expanse of the restro-bar that was voted #23 on the 30 Best Bars India’s 2025 list? No amount of befuddlement could banish from my brain the fabulous pork belly skewers or the over-the-top cocktail presentation or the impeccable service which translated to dishes arriving on my table every five minutes.

But more on that later. First impressions make or break any review. The water feature behind the bar tells me I’m at a fancy place (lies – I googled the menu beforehand and knew I was in for a pricey night). The place feels cavernous, smugly sexy – the proof is in the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, neon lighting, mirrored ceilings, a jazz troupe setting up shop in one corner of the place, a Porsche event unfolding in another. A bloody lair designed for excessive drinking and gourmandising.

I feel like I want to make immediately clear that Delhi NCR isn’t exactly a stranger to authentic Asian cuisine. But a lot of those restaurants – excellent, by the way – are catered towards quick dining, with an overarching preference for cosiness and community over aesthetic sleekness and elegantly prepared cocktails. My first impression, then, is that I think Japonico’s been quick to swoop in and fill that void.

Well, off we go then. The sake menu I digitally rifled through earlier has caught my eye. We get the Hakutsuru Excellent Junmai variant – light, clean, notes of pear and melon – which arrives on a bed of ice. I’m excited because not too many restaurants in the capital region boast as many varieties of sake as Japonico does. (A touch too excited. The bottle lasts us only through our appetisers.)

The food menu’s quite large. I almost wish it was more petite, as is the trend with restaurants right now. Soups, salads, dim sum, gyoza, cold plates (lots of tartare and carpaccio here), sushi, nigiri, sashimi, a robata section, and a make-your-own-meal section that sort of immediately dampens the aggressive elegance of the place, I feel.

We’ve been told everything’s spectacular, but have been nudged towards the Atlantic crab and Peruvian aji chili taco, the chirashi ceviche, the Belgian pork belly yakitori, and the king prawns off the robata section to start us off. The good: the crab tacos are simply divine, with a deliciously velvety filling, and the yakitori, finished off with a banger of a barbecue glaze, is probably up there with the best I’ve ever had. The prawn comes in a lobster shell, and is equally good. The not-so-good: the ceviche probably veers on being a touch too creamy.

I told you, didn’t I? The sake only lasted us through the apps, which means I’ve grabbed my chance to peruse the cocktail menu and ordered several. They’re all subdivided into ‘chapters’ based on the journey of a man called Kaito, who, from humble beginnings in rural Japan, discovers the rich culture of Asia.

Smoky Moon (The Singleton 12 Year Old, ponzu, ginger, lapsang tea) is the obvious showstopper – it comes in a blue-and-white ceramic bowl with a piece of paper that swiftly burns away after the server sets fire to it. Blessedly, it’s a good cocktail even without the presentation. The ginger’s got a beautiful, unexpected subtleness to it and goes particularly well with the whiskey.

Traveler’s Wisdom (gin, vermouth, cranberry and orange blossom) is the perfect amount of citrusy, the Vietnamese-inspired Phoenix Flame is a riot of tequila, bell pepper, melon and quinine. Both perfectly lovely. Nothing to write home about.

Two others are particularly interesting: The Struggle’s Shadow (whiskey, coffee) comes anointed with a warm cloud of coconut and sesame cream – the heat meets the icy-coldness of the drink with surprising finesse – and The Bond (gin, chrysanthemum, apple) comes tinged with the peculiar buzz button (commonly called the sichuan button) flower, imported in from Dubai. It leaves my mouth feeling numb yet fizzy – the server produces the actual flower to let me munch on too.

There’s something really exciting and special about fun cocktails. No amount of fatigue at the delirious speed of new bar openings can shake that. The absolute worst thing a bar can do is to claim to be inventive about cocktails and fall flat. But Japonico’s soared here – hence the rating by 30 Best Bars – and I’d come back for the cocktails without a doubt, audience in tow.

We finish things off (stuffed as we are after all those appetisers) with the baby chicken – a shiro miso-marinated lemon and chive affair that has entirely slipped into a thick fog of drink-induced forgetfulness – and dessert: tiramisu and coconut panna cotta. The tiramisu’s a dream and easily rivals some other greats in the city. The panna cotta, I fear, is slightly unpleasant.

The vibe: A red-hued, darkly intimate, cave-like space that immediately settles you into the fact that you’re going to get piss-drunk on sake here if you can cough up.

The food: Screams authentic expensive Japanese. No comforting ramen bowls here.

The drink: Stunning flavour profiles – warm coconut foam, a numbing tincture (!?) – and brilliantly executed, avant garde presentation

The service: Absolutely top-notch. I felt incredibly well looked after.

Time Out tip: Make it a meal of appetisers. The portions range in size and allow you a full shot at the large menu.