In the Heart of Brooklyn, Japan without the Jetlag

On a sweltering June day, when the thermometer pushed into the high 90s, I sat in the courtyard of Japan Village with co-owner Erina Yoshida. The concept is a verifiable world contained with Industry City, the shopping and dining complex sitting on the East River in South Brooklyn. 

To my back was a food court, complete with a ramen stand, omakase sushi counter, and onigiri stall, among others. In front of me was yet another restaurant — an izakaya spot serving skewers of charred fish and meat, accompanied by intricate cocktails. And that only scratches the surface of what Japan Village offers, including a full-service grocery store and one of the best-stocked Japanese liquor shops in all of New York. 

The original mission of Japan Village, which opened in November 2019, was to make people feel like they were traveling internationally without leaving the five boroughs. During Covid, where destinations such as Japan became inaccessible, the location took on even greater significance. I was sitting with Erina not to hear about the countless delicacies available within 10 feet in every direction, though — I wanted to learn how it came to be. It turns out that the story of Japan Village began in 1960s New York, with her father and an ice cream shop.

Even so, Tony dreamed bigger — he aimed to bring his favorite foods to an American audience. “He wanted to introduce more and more Japanese cuisine to everyone,” Erina told me. He opened a sushi restaurant, an izakaya restaurant, a bakery, a speakeasy, and a 24-hour-diner. In 1995, he also opened his first Sunrise Mart, a Japanese grocery store, in the East Village. Just a couple decades after moving to the United States, he had created his own footprint of home in Manhattan. 

Erina was born in 1988. She remembers growing up at her father’s restaurants — hanging out at the diner and having birthday parties at the sushi restaurant. Other parents would say, “This is not a child’s party, to give raw fish,” Erina recalled. Still, her friends were hooked — for a few of them, sushi became their favorite food by the age of five. 

Erina would also spend every summer back in Tokyo. She actually had to enroll in Japanese school during what was supposed to be her vacation, but she was happy about it. “I was able to really immerse myself into the culture and really get to know my Japanese side,” she said. Her grandmother would feed her her favorite foods, like pickled plum (ume) and fermented soy beans (nattō). Her grandfather favored awamori, a strong Japanese spirit, and would pass her bar snacks: dried anchovies, raw octopus, and rice crackers. 

When she was older, Erina did not immediately sign on to the family business. She spent time in the arts, as well as at a design firm in New York. Working with her father was always in the back of her mind, though. About ten years ago, she finally joined the team with her father and brother, Takuya. The idea for Japan Village materialized not too long after.

Part of this is achieved by creating new supply chains and storefronts for Japanese products and foods that otherwise would not exist in New York. The spirits shop, Kuraichi, is a perfect example. When I wandered in, I was immediately greeted by a knowledgeable clerk who could walk me through the particularities of each sake, shōchū, and Japanese whiskey. You would be hard-pressed to find such a collection, which includes small batch bottles from local breweries, anywhere outside of Japan. 

The food options, too, are endless. One stand serves homemade soba and udon noodles in steaming broth. Another offers okonomiyaki, a savory Japanese pancake, topped with seaweed, sweet mayonnaise, bonito flakes, and all sorts of delights, from octopus to pork to sunny-side up eggs. You can even add gooey mozzarella cheese. My highlight, though, was a stall specializing in onigiri, a vinegary rice ball wrapped in seaweed and finished with a variety of offerings, from fish roe to Erin’s childhood favorite, ume. 

Hidden in the back of the food hall is a sushi counter, where a world-class chef serves up impossibly tender pieces of nigiri, each packed with its own layers of complex flavor. And just outside the courtyard is the izakaya restaurant, Wakuwaku, a more intimate respite from the organized chaos of the main building. Here you can order yakitori — skewers ranging from chicken skin to beef tongue, seared in the perfect combination of smoke, fat, and salt — and watch the cooks roast them over open charcoal grills.

“You wouldn’t even know he owns Japan Village — he just meshes with the crowd.”

Japan Village fits into a new tradition of food halls that aim to recreate a concept around a single culture and cuisine, such as Eataly or Mercado Little Spain, both in Manhattan. Yet tucked away in the south of Brooklyn, Japan Village feels like an entirely different experience — less polished and shiny, contributing to its immersive and homey feel. 

Japan Village starts and ends with one man, Tony Yoshida, whose ice cream cart has morphed over the years into an expansive culinary empire. Amid this success, Erina said that her father has remained as humble and tireless as ever. 

“You wouldn’t even know he owns Japan Village — he just meshes with the crowd,” Erina told me. “You’ll just see him manning the noodle-making machine.”