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▼ Noppo Izakaya at Omotesando

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JAPAN TRAVEL



Go underground at Harajuku Bell Pier

It was a glaringly sunny winter afternoon in Omotesando. Yes the fashionistas are wearing sunglasses here are for a reason. Minutes later, I momentarily forgot being blinded, being two meters underground. Like a speakeasy in the Prohibition era, this hideaway with no windows to speak of turns night into day, least anyone catches me imbibing the bottle keep whiskies or sake, or actually enjoying myself with the smooth sounds of Duke Ellington.

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Being two in the afternoon on an empty stomach, I knew I needed more than jazz to keep me going. Noppo’s Izakaya keeps their kitchen open until 3pm for those with unsocial schedules, so it was their lunch set that won me over. With five different yet hearty options starting from 1000 yen, you can even pay for your friends.

I chose the boiled fish set, which came with miso soup, rice and two small dishes. The pickles were pure homemade goodness. There was some crunch left after pickling, but not too much, with the carrot cut into matchstick slices adding to the sweetness and crunch. The green cabbage pickles on the other hand were thicker but still in bite sized pieces, giving your teeth a more of a workout, with the vinegar and radish like rawness contrasting with the fragrant sesame seeds and the cucumber slices. The miso soup as always was excellent with tofu skin rolled in a spiral.

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Now for the main act. The fish chunks looked like simmered pork or pork prior to being pulled, with a dry and fat free appearance. They were a bit dry on the inside, due more to the nature of the fish than being overcooked, so feel free to double dip in the beautifully burgundy hued broth. Maybe they should have pulled the fish like pulled pork, or I should have ate the fish with the pickles rather than having them separately.

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Actually there were so many fish chunks (volume- wise) that you could feed two people, if not a starving family. The slim fashionistas here clearly don't eat as much as grandma used to. A bit less fish and perhaps another side dish would have made it perfect. If I were to come again I would try their variety of sushi and sashimi dishes including sashimi don.
The daikon radish on the other hand was perfectly paired with the broth, soaking every drop of goodness with an almost melt in your mouth texture while retaining its shape and integrity.

This place attracts a loyal and local following, as attested by the collection of bottle kept whiskies and sake, so you know these guys are in for the long run and not just for the tourist trade. They also have a wide selection of cocktails and draft beer at reasonable prices.

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If you like young men with deep voices then the cooks and wait staff at Noppo are perfect for you, with voices like yakuza hit squad but with an efficient and polite “hands off” service style. It's the kind of service you want in a business lunch where you can negotiate trade treaties uninterrupted, but this is too relaxed for such weighty matters. On the other hand if you like young girls with knee high socks who welcome you with a screaming irasshaimase then pop back to ground level and head back to Harajuku.


By Bonson Lam   
 

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“You know what you have to do. Doncha. Son.” His dad says.
After I serve daddy’s left one, I was about to move to the right foot. While He stopped me, stood up, and walked towards the couch, he said “Crawling right after me.” I followed daddy. My nose was where daddy’s ass was. I was staring at that crotch while I was crawling, and I didn’t realize daddy stopped one of a sudden in front of the bathroom. My nose is slightly right into that dreaming ass crack.
His son bucks on the lid as he turns beet red from his carnal machinations.
“I don’t wanna jack-off, dad.” He says flabbergasted to his dad as he turns off the tap to the hot and chilly water in the shower.
His father strokes his own cock in the shower, the dew from his cock mixes with the drops condensing on the glass.
“Once you plant that cock of yours in some squirmy hole and empty those warm balls of yours into a moist wet hole. Then you are on your way to becoming a man, and only then will you, come-of-age. But it is only a step onto the winding pathway towards manhood. It is my job to teach you what it means to be a man.” His father stands as he finishes his sentence. Loosening his belt and pulling his shirt out from the tucked confines of his pants.
His dad takes a seat upon the closed commode lid. He does not say anything in response to his father as his cock continues pulsing and jumping as the blood engorges his youthful cock more. And more.
Daddy was furious as I could hear his deep breath. He sat down on the bench by the door. I was looking down afraid he was going to kick my ass. He lifted my head from my chin using the tip of his loafer where I can smell that smelly sheer socks he has been worn all day. Just when our eyes met, a big stinky manly wad landed on my face. Then I felt a big rough hand rubbing the spit all over my face. I heard the daddy say, “ next time remember what I told you exactly, I don’t want this to happen again, you hear me? I paused and said, “ yeeee…”. Before I finished the sentence, another spit and a big slap on me. “ when I told you something you must say yes. There is no room for you to argue or think, understood?” He said in a deep and firm tone. “ yes sir”. Without missing a beep I said it. “good boy, your night is just about to start.” “I look forward to the day when you are a fully grown man, my son.” His father says. “I am anxious to see the fruit of my loins reach his fully-adorned manhood. Adulthood.”
His dad’s cock does not curve like that of his son, it angles like a fishing rod looking for fish under rushing river waters, from the deep furry patch between the father’s legs. Daddy smiled and said, “ that is my good boy. Don’t even want to leave your daddy’s Ripe socks on the floor. That’s the respect I love boy.” I then was told to clean his left foot. “Scrub these whitish paste out in my toenails. I want you to smell and place them in your mouth and let me see.” Daddy commented. It smelled and tasted like Brie cheese. Then I moved my tongue in between daddy’s toes. I cleaned up so well. Just thought I was finished. Daddy said,” the sole is clammy. It has nature feet oil after a whole day in the shoes, you think you finished fag. Keep working on that.”
“That you, son?” A voice chimes in from the hallway. “I knew ya couldn’t keep your hands off it.” His dad says. “Men can’t do it, we are drawn to our cocks, like a moth to a flame, and usually that burning sensation that a man feels is the cum boiling up in our balls. You know that feelin’ doncha son?”
Garrett thinks to himself; he did not wear a jock home from practice. He was ‘going commando.” Is it his older brother’s jock? “Oh, well. “He mumbles to himself as he takes another whiff of the musky scented pouch of the jock. His dad’s cock does not curve like that of his son, it angles like a fishing rod looking for fish under rushing river waters, from the deep furry patch between the father’s legs.
He lifts his head from its bowed stance and looks into the eyes of his father wanting some acknowledgement. “That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks.
Garrett sits on the commode, where his father had sat.
“Pick it up and smell the crotch.” His dad says.

His dad’s cock does not curve like that of his son, it angles like a fishing rod looking for fish under rushing river waters, from the deep furry patch between the father’s legs.

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“What are you now, son?”

“What happened at today’s practice today that was so different from any other day, son?” His dad asks.

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