Anrakuen
Taken on August 18, 2010.
There used to be a Chinese restaurant called “Anrakuen” on Chinatown Main Street in Yokohama’s Chinatown, diagonally across from Manchinro. With its white walls, green roof tiles, and red railings, the building—bearing the large sign “Anrakuen”—had a presence that clearly set it apart from the surrounding shops. Although it was weathered, it wasn’t merely a result of the passage of time. It had a truly dignified appearance, quietly embodying its long history.
I had walked past the restaurant many times before, and each time I’d thought about going inside. However, there were hardly any food displays or what looked like a menu outside, and I couldn’t even see inside from the entrance. Maybe it’s a very upscale restaurant? Maybe the food is incredibly expensive? Thoughts like these kept running through my mind, and even though I was curious, I just couldn’t bring myself to open the door.
The Door I Bravely Opened
That day, I made up my mind and finally decided to step inside Anrakuen. When I opened the heavy wooden door and stepped inside, I found a space with even more charm than I had imagined from the exterior.
Patterned frosted glass set in wooden frames, glass that glowed green in the light, and glossy black stairs and handrails. Along the walls stood a row of chairs with a somewhat nostalgic design. The sofas were covered with green and white throws, and although it was an old building, every corner of the shop was immaculately maintained.
Looking back now, I suppose the term “Showa retro” fits perfectly. However, it’s different from shops that were designed later to recreate an old-fashioned atmosphere. The building, the glass, and the furnishings—everything there had spent many long years in that very spot. It felt as though the very air inside the shop was imbued with the weight of time.
Simple, classic Chinese cuisine
The food was classic Chinese cuisine, without any gimmicks. From shrimp in chili sauce to meatballs, every dish had a familiar, comforting flavor that we all knew well. Chinese cuisine, which was introduced to Japan from China and has evolved to suit Japanese tastes, had a flavor that I remember as being somewhat nostalgic and comforting—a true example of that tradition.
Every dish was delicious, but the one that left the strongest impression on me was the fried rice. It looked very simple—by no means fancy. Yet, the moment I took a bite, I was struck by its profound flavor, and I found myself naturally reaching for another bite. Even now, whenever I think of Anrakuen, the taste of that fried rice is the first thing that comes to mind.
The First and Last Visit
That day, I thoroughly enjoyed not only the food but also the atmosphere of the restaurant. However, that ended up being my only visit to Anrakuen. I had no way of knowing it at the time, but the restaurant closed shortly afterward, and the building was torn down. Even if I walk down Chinatown Main Street today, I can no longer see that building.
Amid the row of flashy signs in Yokohama’s Chinatown, Anrakuen wasn’t the kind of place that drew in customers with a loud, flashy display. Still, I feel that its stately building and quiet presence were an indispensable part of the scenery along Chinatown’s main street. If only I could open that door one more time. I’d love to gaze at the patterned frosted glass and taste that fried rice again. As I look back at those old photos, that feeling quietly wells up inside me.
