Anjin

Anjin is a 20-seat izakaya in the Crossroads, and the seats that matter are the ones facing the kitchen. You watch the skewers go on the fire, trade looks with the chefs, eye the plate landing next to you before yours arrives. That proximity isn't decoration — it's the format working as intended.

The food backs it up. Chicken heart skewers, chewy and well-marinated, open the case for organ meat to skeptics who'd otherwise pass. The vegetable dishes carry real weight: a beet salad dusted in puffed rice with persimmon, an eggplant and snap pea dish built to convert committed carnivores. Whipped tofu turns up as a base worth building around, not a health-food afterthought. The pork collar sandwich, miso egg salad between crisped milk bread, has earned its spot near the top of the city's sandwich conversation. Soft serve closes things out, rotating through flavors like matcha and ginger pear rather than settling for vanilla.

None of this reads like a kitchen playing it safe in a tiny room. It reads like a kitchen using the room's limits to sharpen the food. The James Beard Foundation named it both a semifinalist and a finalist for Best New Restaurant in 2026 — confirmation, not the argument. The argument is on the plate.