As a native Tokyoite, frankly, this restaurant is an embarrassment. It's common knowledge that there is a gaping authentic Japanese restaurant-shaped hole in the Paris dining scene but this dingy eatery -- often filled with Parisians who think they are having Japanese -- is depressing. On my last visit I had a gloopy and gelatinous Mabodon, served with an oily ladleful of ramen stock, and passable fried chicken. My companions had bowls of bloated ramen in a pinkie's depth of the same oily broth, anaemically blond korokke (or as they say in typical non-Japanese fashion, kolokke) shaped like goat droppings, and an obscenely copious plate of Japanese curry which looked way too light and floury to be the rich and unctuous dish it is meant to be. Unsurprisingly, there was one Japanese person on staff -- possibly the proprietress -- and there were no Japanese diners, although my French companions assured me that there were. (It's okay that you can't tell Asian people apart. We're used to it.) Two steps away from this joint are a handful of decent establishments, such as Aki or Kunitoraya (check out the Japanese staff and clientele!). Please, people: do yourselves a favor and find out that the Japanese restaurant you're walking into is at least somewhat Japanese before you order. Or at least go somewhere clean!

Tiny japanese restaurant, just minutes away from the Louvre. Specialities are Soups and fried ravioli. As is typical in many japanese restaurants, you have the option of eating at the counter, where you can watch the food being prepared by the chefs in front of you.