Depachika is a blend of “department store” and “chika”, meaning basement.
Want to dive into Japanese cuisine? Make a beeline for a depachika, writes Tamara Hinson
In Japan, depachikas – department store food halls selling the finest food and drink – are an institution. A portmanteau of “depato” (department store) and “chika” (basement), these subterranean Shangri-las are the perfect place to dive into Japan’s culinary curiosities.
I still remember my first visit to a depachika. It was the one in the basement of the Daimaru store at Tokyo Station, and I made a beeline for the Kit-Kat concession where, beneath a chandelier made from the famous chocolate bars, a gloved assistant helped me curate a selection of rare flavours of Kit-Kats which were then placed in a padded, insulated envelope, with a miniature ice pack to keep them cool.
Sadly, that concession is long gone, but a depachika (my personal favourites are the ones found in Daimaru, Isetan or Takashimaya department stores) will still always be my first port of call when in Japan. Even the process of getting to a depachika, almost always found on the basement level, is thrilling. Because they’re filled with fresh food, they’re often busiest in the mornings. At the Daimaru in Osaka, queues form outside the department store long before the doors are flung open – not by workers from the shop floor, but by senior managers, who line up outside, bow to the members of the public waiting to enter, then welcome customers inside in the same way monks might welcome worshippers into a temple.
My favourite sections include the fresh fruit departments. In Japan, presents for co-workers often take the form of gift-wrapped items of fruit, and depachikas are the go-to spots for these presents. You’ll find entire aisles filled with football-sized, ribbon-adorned honeydew melons for ¥5724 ($65) and bunches of golf ball-sized grapes for ¥1880 ($21), nestled in tissue paper and placed in silk-lined boxes. The most popular gifts include rare white Tokun strawberries from Hokkaido famous for their notes of peach and caramel, although equally popular are the Amaōu. Grown in Fukuoka and famous for their girth, these apple-sized strawberries are usually sold individually, packaged in gift boxes. Bonus points if you spot a square-shaped watermelon – I’ve yet to spot one of these elusive oddities but, unlike unicorns and mermaids, I can assure you they definitely exist, and rumour has it you’re most likely to spot them at the depachikas found in Isetan’s department stores. Another incredibly popular item of fruit to give as a gift is watermelons grown in transparent square boxes, which typically cost around $308.
A word of warning – if you’re a vegetarian you might want to swerve the fresh meats section, although personally, it’s often my first stop in a depachika. At the Isetan in Shinjuku, Tokyo, I can spend hours watching the smartly dressed butchers beaver away behind beautiful displays of uncooked Wagyu steaks and seafood, dissecting slabs of meat with the skill of a samurai. You’ll find entire sections dedicated to specific types of seafood, including spectacular displays of eels, fugu (otherwise known as blowfish) and kelp.
Don’t miss the selections of sakes and whiskies you’ll find in depachikas, either. Yes, you’ll pay a fraction of the price for a cheap bottle of Suntory whisky in a 7-11 store, but the team which oversees these carefully curated selections typically includes whisky experts and sommeliers, so, if you’re wondering which yakitori to pair with your Yamazaki whisky, you’re in the right place.
And if you fancy offloading some yen on a fancy lunch? Depachikas are fantastic places to grab a bite to eat, with entire sections dedicated to snacks designed to be eaten on the go. At lunchtime, these areas are hives of activity, with armies of chefs tending to grills loaded with sizzling yakitori skewers and preparing beautiful bento boxes for businessmen and women who’ll always make time to bow their appreciation to the person behind the counter, no matter how short on time they might be. An insider’s tip? Several Daimaru stores have their own rooftop gardens where customers can pair their depachika lunches with spectacular views. The most beautiful example is the Kyoto store’s rooftop garden, kitted out with tables and chairs made from fragrant cedar harvested from nearby forests.
For dessert, head to the pastry section – trust us, you’ll never go near a limp gas station croissant again. In depachikas, dozens of counters serve up rainbow-hued sugar fixes, including yōkan (colourful cubes of bean paste commonly adorned with elaborate floral designs) and tiny domes of jelly made with fruit juice (the ones filled with the juice of white shimizu peaches are to die for). Travelling with kids in tow? Venture over to the cakes section at your peril – or with a willingness to do some serious damage to your bank balance. Typically, the speciality is miniature cakes designed as individual treats: tiny red velvets adorned with Hello Kitty faces sculpted from sugar, and miniature gateaux topped with wobbling cherry blossoms made from jelly.
Depachikas are institutions – temples to food and drink which don’t just sate my appetite for Wagyu and yakitori, but my appetite for insights into Japanese culture. And yes, I’m still mourning the loss of the Kit-Kat concession at the Tokyo Daimaru depachika, but if its absence means more room for white strawberries and Hello Kitty cakes, it’s a price I’m willing to pay.