Broth From Scratch
No powders, no shortcuts. Bones and kombu go in before dawn and the pots don’t stop until service. Twelve hours for tonkotsu; a gentler clock for shio.
Chef Hiroshi Tanaka learned to cook under the counter of his grandmother’s shokudō in Osaka — a six-stool noodle shop where the broth never fully went cold and the radio always played kayōkyoku, the pop ballads of the Shōwa years.
When he opened his own room on SE Hawthorne in 2013, he wanted it to feel like that shop: narrow, warm, a little worn in the right places. He named it Shōwa Kayō — “Shōwa songs” — and put the record player where everyone could hear it.
Thirteen years later it’s still one long cedar counter, still broth from scratch, still vinyl all night. The regulars know the staff by name, and most of them order the tonkotsu without looking at the menu.
See What We CookThe Shōwa era (1926–1989) is Japan’s nostalgic middle century — neon alleys, tiny counters, enamel signs and the warm crackle of a record. It’s less about any single dish and more about a feeling: that a good bowl of noodles, eaten shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers, is reason enough to go out.
We chase that feeling with the fundamentals. Broth held for twelve hours. Noodles pulled the same day. Charcoal, not gas, on the robata. And a room dim enough that the lanterns do the talking.
No powders, no shortcuts. Bones and kombu go in before dawn and the pots don’t stop until service. Twelve hours for tonkotsu; a gentler clock for shio.
Pacific fish, Willamette Valley produce and local tofu. We write the specials around what the market hands us that week, not the other way around.
The records are real and so is the welcome. Come solo and eat at the counter; come six-deep and we’ll pull the back room together. Either way, stay a while.
On a busy Friday the counter hums, the back room fills, and the whole place smells like charcoal and citrus. It’s loud in the good way — the way a neighborhood spot should be when the neighborhood shows up.
We hold a handful of seats for walk-ins every night, so there’s almost always a stool if you’re willing to wait for one with a highball in hand.
Look Around the RoomBook a table or just walk up to the counter. Either way, we’ll have the broth hot and a record spinning.