How to order at a Japanese izakaya without faking it
Walking into an izakaya for the first time can feel like joining a private club you forgot to apply to. The door slides open, a chorus of "irasshaimase" hits you, and a waitress is waving you toward a seat covered with wet towels and a small dish you didn't order. If you're an Australian traveller off a Qantas flight from Sydney or Melbourne, the instinct is to find the bar menu and shout yourself a schooner. Izakayas don't quite run that way, but the spirit is closer to a Friday arvo at your local than you'd think.
An izakaya is, at heart, a neighbourhood pub where the food is the whole point. The name blends "iru" (to stay) and "sakaya" (sake shop), and the originals were literally places to sip sake while nibbling whatever the kitchen could throw together. Today the format stretches from back-alley Tokyo joints to polished chains in Osaka, and how Australians approach them shapes whether the night feels easy or exhausting. A few simple habits make all the difference.
The small plate that lands first: otoshi
Almost the moment you sit down, a small plate arrives. This is otoshi - sometimes called tsukidashi - and it isn't a freebie. It's a cover charge of a few hundred yen, and it comes with something edible: edamame, pickled daikon, or a tiny salad. Some places let you pick from a short menu; others decide for you.
Treat otoshi as part of the bill, not an optional extra. If you're dining with a mate, the plate is shared, and sending it back is awkward for staff. For budget-conscious travellers counting every Australian dollar, just remember it's the price of admission to the experience - and a tasty one.
Reading the small plates menu
Most izakayas run a multi-page menu split into categories: salads, cold tofu, grilled skewers (kushiyaki), fried things (agemono), and larger share plates. The flavour profile varies by region - Osaka leans into fried dishes and okonomiyaki, while Hokkaido menus often feature sashimi and grilled corn. Pointing is fine; reading every kanji is not expected.
A handy trick is to look for the day's specials on a chalkboard or laminated sheet near the door. These "osusume" recommendations are where the kitchen shows off. In busy areas like Shibuya or Dotonbori, staff may point you toward whatever's freshest. Order three or four plates per person plus a couple of extras to share, and you'll be set for a few hours.
The drinking order: beer, then everything else
There's a soft ritual to izakaya drinking. The night almost always starts with beer - a cold nama (draft) or lemon sour - ordered as "toriaezu nama" ("a beer to start"). This phrase is useful even if your Japanese is shaky. Sake and highballs tend to follow, with shochu and chuhai popular once the conversation loosens up.
If you prefer wine or cocktails, you'll find them, but izakayas are calibrated around beer and sake. Ordering tap beer by saying "nama" or pointing at the tap list keeps things easy. When sake arrives, it's shared in small ceramic cups called ochoko, with the bottle in the middle. Pouring for each other - never yourself - is part of the etiquette.
Calling the staff without shouting
In Australia, raising your voice at the bar is normal. In Japan, the equivalent is pressing a small button on the table or saying "sumimasen" with a soft hand gesture. Many chains like Watami use touchscreen ordering where you tap through pictures. Independent spots rely on a call button linked to a light at the bar.
Whatever the system, avoid waving or whistling for attention. A gentle "sumimasen" said twice is plenty. Staff pass tables frequently to top up drinks, so chasing anyone is rarely needed. If something needs adjusting - extra napkins, a recommendation for something milder - just ask.
Pacing, sharing, and the nomication rhythm
"Communication" - the act of chatting over shared food and drink - is the unspoken goal of an izakaya night. Plates are designed to split, conversations are designed to wander, and the bill climbs gently rather than in one hit. Australians used to round-based shouting at the pub might find this slower, but the unhurried pacing is part of why Japanese nights stretch on for hours without anyone overdoing it.
Order another round when plates are half-finished, not when the table is bare. Match your second drink to whoever's pouring slowest. If you're in Kyoto and want a daytime reset after a heavy night, the morning markets are a brilliant follow-up - this guide to the best local markets in Kyoto for souvenirs and street food maps out where to soak up and start fresh.
Paying, splitting, and tipping
When the night winds down, flag the staff with a quick "okaikei onegai shimasu" ("check please") or hit the call button. The bill usually comes to the table rather than the bar. Most izakayas accept cards, especially in Tokyo and Osaka, but smaller joints in regional cities can still be cash-only - keep yen handy just in case.
Tipping is not customary and can cause confusion. Round up if you like or pay the exact total. Splitting evenly ("wari-kan") is the default, and asking for separate receipts ("betsu-betsu") is fine. If your group has Australian mates who insist on shouting the first round, let them - the gesture is understood in Japanese culture too, just expressed differently.
Habits that make your first izakaya visit smoother
- Sit at the counter if you're solo or in a pair - you'll see the kitchen and pick up on what others order.
- Order one otoshi, two or three small dishes per person, and pace your drinks rather than ordering everything at once.
- Learn "toriaezu nama" and "okaimon onegai shimasu" - two phrases that cover most situations.
- Keep cash handy, because izakaya tables often have small minimum spends or cash-only sections.
- Avoid eating while walking afterwards - find another nearby spot or head back to your hotel to wind down.
A good izakaya night leaves you full, a little buzzy, and oddly satisfied in a way a giant restaurant meal rarely does. Lean into the shared, slow rhythm rather than ordering like you're at a Sydney sushi train. Walk in with a couple of phrases, a willingness to point at the menu, and the patience to let plates arrive in their own time. On your next Japan trip, give yourself one full evening for an izakaya you stumble across - the kind with steamed-up windows and a handwritten menu. The rituals will feel like second nature by your second visit, and you'll wonder why the format ever felt intimidating in the first place.