Otōshi, the small dish you didn't order, and what it pays for

You have barely ordered your drink, a highball, the one word on the wall you could read, when a small ceramic bowl lands on the counter in front of you. Inside are a few strands of kinpira gobō (きんぴらごぼう): burdock and carrot glossed with soy and sesame. You did not ask for it. In a narrow bar in Shibuya's Nonbei Yokochō (のんべい横丁), with trains passing on the elevated tracks behind the lane, nobody explains it. Later a line on the bill says お通し, in handwriting you cannot quite read.

A dish that arrives before the order

That bowl is the otōshi (お通し), and at a great many izakaya (居酒屋) it is not optional. It comes with the first drink, one per person, and it carries a per-head charge that shows up on the bill as otōshi-dai (お通し代). To a visitor the moment can look like a mistake, or worse, a trick. To the shop it is simply how the evening starts.

The usual explanation of the word is practical rather than poetic. Tōsu (通す) means to pass something through, and the dish tells you your order has gone through to the kitchen. It buys the cook a few minutes. Yakitori (焼き鳥) needs time over the charcoal and sashimi has to be cut, but the otōshi was made that afternoon and only needs spooning out. So you have something to eat with your first sip of beer instead of drinking on an empty stomach while the grill catches up.

Otōshi in Tokyo, tsukidashi in Osaka

The name changes as you go west. In Osaka and much of Kansai the same small dish is more often called tsukidashi (突き出し), from tsukidasu, to push something out: the plate pushed across the counter before you have chosen anything. Walk the lanes of Ura-Namba (裏なんば), a few minutes from Namba Station (なんば駅) on the Osaka Metro Midōsuji Line (御堂筋線), and you will see both words on handwritten boards, sometimes in the same alley.

Elsewhere the custom takes other shapes. In many yakitori shops in Hakata (博多), Fukuoka, the first thing on the table is a plate of raw cabbage with a sharp vinegar dressing, sudare kyabetsu (酢ダレキャベツ), which regulars pick at between skewers. Whether it is charged, and how, depends on the shop. In Kyoto's Pontochō (先斗町), the narrow lane between the Kamo River and Kiyamachi-dōri (木屋町通), near Gion-Shijō Station (祇園四条駅) on the Keihan Line, a counter restaurant may send out something closer to a tiny composed course, such as a few pieces of seasonal vegetable simmered in dashi and a single bite of fish, and price it to match. Everywhere the pattern is the same: one small thing, unasked, before the real ordering begins.

What the charge is really for

It helps to stop thinking of the otōshi as food you are forced to buy. Mostly it is a table charge with a dish attached. Bars in many countries hide the cost of a seat in their drink prices. Many izakaya charge it separately, and the otōshi is the part you can see. Some menus say so outright, in a printed line near the bottom of the drinks page.

当店ではお一人様にお通しをご用意しております。

Romanised, it reads tōten de wa ohitori-sama ni otōshi o go-yōi shite orimasu, roughly "we prepare an otōshi for each guest," and it is the polite way of telling you the charge exists. Other places call it chāji (チャージ) or sekiryō (席料), a seat fee. This is especially common in the tiny bars of Shinjuku's Golden Gai (ゴールデン街), where a sign by the door, in English or not, gives the charge before you climb the stairs.

The amount varies by shop and by neighbourhood. At a casual izakaya it is usually close to the price of a small side dish on the same menu. At a counter in an expensive district it can be well above that. The only figure worth trusting is the one on that shop's own menu or door sign, so read it there rather than relying on anything you heard about the city in general.

Reading the bowl

The otōshi is also the first thing the kitchen tells you about itself, so it is worth noticing. A chain izakaya by a station exit may send out a dish of shredded cabbage or a few edamame (枝豆). A small family-run room in a lane like Omoide Yokochō (思い出横丁), beside the west exit of JR Shinjuku Station (新宿駅), is more likely to give you whatever the cook made that day. That might be hijiki (ひじき) seaweed simmered with fried tofu and carrot, a spoonful of potato salad with cucumber and plenty of Japanese mayonnaise, or a cube of chilled tofu under grated ginger.

Some places go salty to encourage the next drink. The classic is ika no shiokara (イカの塩辛), fermented squid, which first-timers tend to either love or hate. The seasons also show up here before they reach the main menu: broad beans in early summer, simmered daikon in autumn, a small mound of grated yam over tuna. If the otōshi is made with care, the simmered dishes on the board probably are too. If it tastes like it came from a packet, order whatever comes off the grill.

When you can say no, and how

Some shops will drop the otōshi if you ask, many will not, and a few will quietly bring something else instead. The question is easier at the door than at the register. Otōshi wa arimasu ka (お通しはありますか), "is there an otōshi," is a fair thing to ask before you sit down, and the answer usually tells you whether the shop treats it as fixed.

If you cannot eat what arrives, whether because of an allergy, shellfish, or a vegetarian diet, say so right away instead of leaving it untouched. The kitchen can sometimes swap it, and a full bowl left at the end of the night reads as a complaint. Standing bars, tachinomi (立ち飲み), and some chains often skip the custom. Others fold it into a set course or an all-you-can-drink nomihōdai (飲み放題) plan, where it arrives as the first dish without its own line on the bill. Arguing about the charge afterwards rarely goes well. Staff at a small counter usually explained nothing because, to them, the custom needs no explaining, and a long exchange at the register costs everyone more than the bowl did.

Before you go

The otōshi is an evening custom. The lunchtime teishoku (定食) sets that many izakaya serve rarely come with one, and you will meet it most reliably from opening time onward in the drinking districts: Shinjuku, Shibuya, Ura-Namba, and Nakasu (中洲) around Nakasu-Kawabata Station (中洲川端駅) on the Fukuoka City Subway. To check what a particular shop charges, look at the bottom of its drinks menu, the sign at its door, or its own website or listing before you go. A hotel front desk can also phone ahead for a small room that takes few walk-ins. Small counters often prefer cash, so ask about payment when you ask about the otōshi.

The mistake to avoid is doing a bar crawl the way you would at home. Hashigo-zake (はしご酒), "ladder drinking," from one bar to the next, is a real Japanese habit, but each shop that charges an otōshi charges it again for every new arrival. Four friends hopping through five lanes for one drink each will pay for twenty small bowls they barely touched. Choose two places, stay long enough to order from the board, and let the first dish do its job: it gives the kitchen time, and it gives you a reason to stay.