Unagiya Segawa

Off Kyoto’s Shinmachi-dōri, a row of low lanterns lights a passage paved in stone. At the far end hangs a white curtain with a single large character for eel. The curtain makes a better sign than any menu could. A few steps farther on, through the kitchen glass, you can see exactly what you’ve come for.

The cook grills the eel Kansai-style, straight over binchōtan charcoal. As the fat hits the coals, the smoke takes on a savoury sweetness. You can watch the skin take colour before you sit down. There used to be a craft shop and a café at this address, and there’s still a Noh stage upstairs. Kurochiku holds tea ceremonies on it by reservation. Downstairs, the attraction is considerably less solemn.

The whole-eel unajū comes on a hot lava stone, with rice in the Shigaraki clay pot it was cooked in. The eel is exceptional. The skin is crisp enough to catch against the chopsticks, and the flesh underneath is rich and soft. A little of the sweet-salty glaze goes a long way on the hot rice. There are two kinds of sanshō on the table, so further experimentation is possible, provided you can resist taking the next bite exactly as it is.

The stone keeps the last piece hot. It’s also the piece you’ll find yourself thinking about when you pass the lanterns again.