Omoide Yokocho - Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan

I've learned a lot from Tokyo, important life lessons and the like. One of the more important lessons is letting go of stranger danger. Everywhere you go in Tokyo, you'll inevitably share something with someone you've never met. Whether it's two couples casually ignoring each other's conversations at a table for four or awkward elbow bumping at a beer and/or noodle bar, your personal space is not sacred.

It's a tight fit at the bar of all izakaya, but you can't even have a beer gut to sit at this counter. A large Asahi makes the two inches between you and the nearest salary man seem like four, but you can still smell each other's breath.

But not to worry, food is the ultimate social lubricant, and you learn to converse without worrying about other people hearing because well, no one at this counter has any idea what I'm saying. Combine a Set of skewers with a Special Set of skewers, and I don't have much to say anyway.

Small slices of bilious intensity comprise a skewer of chicken liver. Chicken gizzard's chewy texture provides a contextual contrast. The chicken wings require a little bony dissection, but the flame-scorched flavor goes all the way through the juicy pieces. Chicken breast is boring, but they keep the pieces small enough so the limited flavor won't make you don't fall asleep. Chicken skin is still my favorite, thin, dissolving strips zig-zagging up a toothpick trellis. The chicken meatball is dense yet light, meat marbled with savory fillers. Fatty pork bursts intensely, draping its gristle over slices of scallion.

Steak tastes like steak, and chicken cartilage crunches under a bland piece of breast.

Roasted Garlic loses some of the pungency and softens into a sweeter chew. Shishitos are slightly bitter and finish with a hint of hot.

A couple beers and a dozen skewers later, I've lost all semblance of shyness. Thanks Tokyo, I've learned so much from you: how to be comfortable when uncomfortably close and how to squeeze into very small spaces.