Izakaya play a special role in Japanese society: They’re the everyman’s post-work refuge, where the distinctions of salary and title melt away into a riot of beer, sake, and savory snacks.
In Japan, every flat table and counter is dotted with little plates of intensely flavored food, from smoky grilled vegetables to steaming bowls of braised meat. Chatter and occasional bursts of laughter hang in the air. You see pints of Sapporo beer float by on a tray. The chef yells out “ira-sshaimase!” as another person squeezes into the cozy room, looking for a spare seat.
A perfect neighborhood izakaya invites you to linger, with reasonable prices designed to attract regulars. Things are a little different in San Francisco, where sky-high rents meet pricey ingredients and inflate prices into the stratosphere. Here, the average yakitori skewer goes for $5 or more at places like Noren, Chome, or Rintaro. Hot snacks and entrees can be well into the teens and twenties, even for what appears to be a tiny tapas plate.
In practice, this means you can spend more than $60 for two beers, a handful of skewers, and an order of tempura. Not exactly a convivial, working-class vibe.
For the most part, Nono in the Fillmore hews to these expectations on price and portion. But any misgivings about value are totally forgotten in the face of its insane happy hour, which radically drops the price of some of Nono’s most popular dishes.
The happy hour menu is a revelation. Served from 5-6 and 9-10 p.m. every day, it includes a short list of fresh seafood (including oysters and sashimi) and hot appetizers for just $5. I could eat the ebi shiitake — a fat mushroom stuffed with chopped prawns and fried with a lacy batter — every single day. The petite handroll filled with finely minced tuna and a squiggle of spicy mayo is a crowd favorite. And best of all, Nono’s grilled chicken skewers are all half off during happy hour. Everyone gets the sori, or tender chicken “oysters” (from the underside of the thigh) seared with thick Japanese scallions. But I also love their grislier offerings, like the chicken hearts, gizzards, and crunchy skin — all for $2 a skewer.
To wash it down, Nono’s happy hour touts $5 beer, sake, and a speciality soda (a strawberry-matcha concoction the last two times I visited). All cocktails are discounted to $10.
There are some standouts on the regular menu, too. I liked its take on traditional Japanese ochazuke: a bowl of rice and fish, topped with a broth infused with green tea. Slices of salmon arrived lightly charred with a blowtorch; a spoonful of ikura, or salmon roe, added pops of texture and salt. The attention to detail continued in the garnish of glazed seaweed, toasted to a fine crisp.
I also grew envious of the table next to me, which ordered a plate of udon noodles with tiger prawns and a pink sauce laced with cream and spicy kimchi — an East Asian take on Italian carbonara, just with more funk and spice. Less thrilling was a new special “Nono duck” that arrived as six little slices of breast with a ramekin of citrus vinaigrette. The duck was cooked to a perfect rosy medium, but it felt scant for $16.
The happy hour prices would be appreciated in a janky-looking dive bar. Nono does much better; its servers glide around in tidy earth-hued aprons, the food comes on ceramic plates adorned with florals and chubby pufferfish, and the room is lined with warm textures and cozy decorations. The closeness of the tables recall that classic izakaya intimacy — this is not a place for a private conversation.
Now, for a plot twist: That cozy feeling may be lacking at their new location. Nono is closing after service on December 1, and won’t return until February, when it reemerges a block away at 1800 Fillmore St. It’s the former location of Pizza Inferno, and has more than double Nono’s current dining space.
Don’t expect the current restaurant to go dark, however. Peter Yu, a longtime employee, told me the whole staff is sticking around at the current space, which will be revamped with a new name and menu.
Nono itself will return, as Nono, in February, in the bigger space down the street. Amid the highly transitional world of SF restaurant closures, I just feel relief that a neighborhood favorite is actually staying in the neighborhood.
Fingers crossed that when it reemerges, the stellar happy hour menu will return in familiar form. I’ll be there, a few beers in, my table full of skewers and half-empty plates.
