It’s long been known that fried foods and white wine pair beautifully. But I didn’t fully understand the magic of that combination until I discovered Tenki, a restaurant dedicated entirely to tempura and white wine.
Located on the second floor, Tenki’s walls are practically made of windows, overlooking a quiet Shibuya side street. The layout centres on an open kitchen, surrounded by bar stools that invite diners to watch the chefs at work or strike up conversation with neighbours. Their wine list leans surprisingly Portuguese – crisp, low-alcohol bottles with bright acidity that cut cleanly through the richness of fried morsels. Once drinks are settled, the meal unfolds like an omakase. You can order à la carte, but the seasonal tasting menu is the best way to experience what they do.
We opted for the eight-course set, which began with a warming flute of dashi soup – a lesson in umami depth and restraint, and the perfect way to wake up the palate. Next came three assorted seasonal appetisers: poached chicken with salsa verde and Genovese sauce, deep-fried eggplant soaked in a light shiitake broth with sesame and yogurt tahini, and butternut squash tofu drizzled with olive oil and flaky salt. The rotation of flavours was a dream, but the tofu was it – silky and savoury, like an umami-rich panna cotta.
Then came a carrot tempura, wrapped in nori like a hand roll. As unusual as it sounds, it was earthy, crisp and tender all at once, preserving the carrot’s natural sweetness.
Next up, their signature shrimp tempura: dusted with cayenne pepper and perched atop a mound of herb mayo. Bite carefully: inside is a burst of shrimp stock, briny and intoxicatingly aromatic. You’ll likely eat it whole, tail and all, the shell crisped into something like a shrimp chip packed with concentrated flavour. This was the moment the whole ‘tempura and wine’ concept clicked; each sip and bite amplified the other.
The tsukune meatball, made with mountain yam and pork, followed, served with a sauce of black and balsamic vinegar, star anise and other delicate spices. Then came the kakiage, a mixed tempura of burdock and carrot topped with grilled conger eel cooked in red wine and spices – without a drop of soy sauce. In fact, Tenki has a strict rule against using sodium-heavy shoyu, relying instead on techniques that draw out the natural flavours of seasonal ingredients.
For dessert, a fried fig with coconut yogurt sauce and mint closed the meal on a fragrant, cooling note.
Tempura omakase may sound formal or intimidating, but Tenki manages to keep things playful. From brachiosaurus-shaped lamps to menus designed like photo zines, there’s a sense of humour woven through the experience. With its counter seating and intimate atmosphere, this is a spot best enjoyed solo or as a cosy dinner for two.
