Toyo-san lights his ciggie by flamethrower before dipping his fingers into ice water. In an act that borders ingenuity and madness, Toyo-san grills his signature dish of tuna cheeks in the flames with his bare hands, briefly submerging one in the water as a reprise from the blaze he absurdly sets upon himself. As well as the charring smoke, theatrical steam rises from his wet forearms. Dappled light from the canopy above falls on the stainless steel tabletops held up by blue crates, assorted trolleys and locked down step ladders. Visible cables to connect the fluorescent lights run across the sides of the izakaya’s pagola, the staff uniforms are blue t-shirts with short white gumboots. The floor is dotted with bright red shopping baskets to rest your handbags and totes. The menu of the day is written in marker on a whiteboard leaning against the open kitchen. It’s packed.