by Sara Dickerman

Yoshinobo Japanese Restaurant

520 S Jackson St (International District), 405-4646

Tues-Sat 11:30 am-2 pm, 5:30-10 pm; Sun 5-10 pm; closed Mon.

There are two very different spaces to eat in at Yoshinobo, an old-school Japanese restaurant in the International District. The first is a U-shaped wooden bar equipped with tall, winged swivel chairs that Captain Kirk would envy. You can see into the kitchen from these seats, and there’s a funny contrast between the executive splendor of the one and the workaday décor of the other, where a cage of metal shelves is filled with neat stacks of plates and pots. On one visit I spied a gallon jug of Kitchen Bouquet browning and flavor agent tucked way up high; I hope it stayed well beyond the reach of the cooks. At work in the kitchen was the sushi chef, who’s all business, and the tempura cook and the guy who assembles the plates, who teased each other during the sluggish lunch hour. It’s fun to dine in the round, indulging in nosiness about the customers and cooks–vindication, perhaps, for the hours I’ve been peered at while working in open kitchens myself.

On another visit my friends and I stepped into the deliciously quiet tatami rooms in the back of the restaurant. These private spaces, screened off from the rest of the restaurant, are perfect for business deals, illicit affairs, or in our case an energetic toddler, who spun, jumped, and ran laps around us while we ate.

Many of Yoshinobo’s offerings at lunch and dinner are served in bento boxes. Eating there, I’m reminded of a half-crazy, half-brilliant book, The Aesthetics of the Japanese Lunchbox, written by Japanese industrial designer Kenji Ekuan. Ekuan, who among other things invented that bell-shaped Kikkoman soy sauce bottle, sees the bento box as the most fundamentally Japanese object there is: For him it is a metaphor for crowded Japanese cities, for the islands themselves, for a Zen mandala, for all things that are unified in their diversity.

For the lunchbox theorist, it is crucial that the food in the bento not be too fancy. “Our lunchbox is scarcely for the ostentatious display of high-quality or unusual delicacies,” Ekuan wrote, “but instead gathers together normal, familiar, everyday things from nature, according to season, and enhances their inherent appeal.”

Indeed, none of the food at Yoshinobo approaches the sublime, but it is rich in ordinary pleasures. The lunchtime bento box ($10.75) is a bulky affair, not quite so much portable lunchbox as oversized TV-dinner tray, with neat compartments for shrimp tempura, well-salted broiled mackerel, snacklets of pickled radish and egg custard, slivers of sashimi, and a slice of unfortunately bruised honeydew. It’s a pleasure to sit staring down at the contents, deciding what to eat next.

At dinner, the options expand, but remain couched in tradition. Yoshinobo’s sushi is well prepared–clean as a whistle and not too big or too small–but a plate of it ($2-$4 per order, $16.95 for a combo) arrived unbecomingly crowded onto a plate. Nabeyaki udon ($7.50) comes in a somewhat sweet dashi broth, garnished with gently wilting tempura and a gorgeously poached egg. Dinner combos are arranged in the same big bento boxes. A robata skewer combination ($17) bristled with sticks of shrimp, peppery scallops, and chicken teriyaki, which was surprisingly tender and juicy. The combo’s sesame-tinged beef was lukewarm and underseasoned, but one is forgiving when there are so many things to nibble on. You just move on to the next thing–like the black cod marinated in sake lees ($15), the pulp left over from making sake. Yoshinobo’s version is especially pungent, but sweet and juicy to eat.

For dessert, our waitress suggested ice cream ($3), and when it arrived, about a pint to each bowl, we wondered if she could have mentioned the generous serving beforehand. No matter. Our toddler friend, who until dessert had been more interested in hiding in the room’s cubbyhole than eating, came out to help us work through both the spicy ginger and bright mango ice creams. He took formidable bites of the ice cream, too young, perhaps, to get brain freeze.

Yoshinobo’s predictable, reliable food gets considerable energy from its environment–both the groovy bar and the crisp, quiet tatami rooms. Kind of like a bento box itself.