Osaka's glass-case shokudō, where you build lunch one small plate at a time

It is late morning on a weekday in Tenma, and the glass case by the door is already half full. Every plate is under cling film: a thick slice of rolled omelette, a mackerel fillet glossy with miso, a small bowl of potato salad with a round of cucumber pressed into the top. A man in a taxi driver's cap takes a brown plastic tray from the stack, slides the case open, lifts out two dishes and carries them to the counter without a word. Nobody hands him a menu. In an Osaka taishū shokudō (大衆食堂, an everyday dining hall), the food itself is the menu, and you put lunch together with your own hands.

The case is the menu

The glass case (ガラスケース, garasu kēsu) runs along one wall or stands beside the entrance. It is usually refrigerated, with sliding panels on the customer's side. The plates sit in rows on narrow shelves. Some carry a small price label, while in other shops the colour or pattern of the plate itself tells the staff what it costs. You take a tray, open the panel, choose and close it again. You do not need to read a word, because everything is in front of you at the size it will be when you eat it.

Not everything lives behind the glass. Rice, soup and anything that has to arrive hot, such as noodles, grilled fish to order or a freshly fried cutlet, is called out at the counter. Those dishes are written on strips of paper hung above the kitchen (短冊, tanzaku), nearly always in Japanese only. The case gives a non-reader complete freedom. The wall is where you point and wait for a nod.

What sits behind the glass, and what makes it Osaka

Some plates turn up in shokudō all over Japan. There is saba no misoni (鯖の味噌煮), mackerel simmered in miso. There is kinpira gōbō (きんぴらごぼう), burdock and carrot cooked in soy and sesame, and hiyayakko (冷奴), a cold block of tofu topped with grated ginger and spring onion. Spinach ohitashi (おひたし) is dressed with a few shavings of katsuobushi, and there is always the potato salad. The rolled omelette is what marks a Kansai case. Dashimaki tamago (だし巻き玉子) is wetter and more savoury than the sweeter version common in Tokyo, and a little broth runs out when you cut into it with chopsticks.

The local accent is stronger in the rice and the bowls. Many shops offer kayaku gohan (かやくご飯), the Osaka name for rice cooked with carrot, konnyaku and fried tofu, as an alternative to plain white rice. The soup may be akadashi (赤だし), a darker red-miso broth more common in western Japan than in the east. From the counter you can order kitsune udon (きつねうどん) under a broad sheet of sweet fried tofu, a dish the city counts as its own. Some shops also serve nikusui (肉吸い), the beef and tofu topping of a niku udon served in its broth without the noodles. It is a dish associated with the Namba side of town. In the cold months, look for kasujiru (粕汁), a soup made with sake lees that reflects the breweries a short train ride away.

Three questions at the counter

When you bring your tray to the counter, the first question is nearly always about rice. The answer is a size: dai (大, large), chū (中, medium) or shō (小, small). Some shops add an extra-large or a half portion, and the sizes are often shown as sample bowls on a shelf behind the staff. Next comes the soup, usually a choice between ordinary miso soup and akadashi. Some shops offer tonjiru (豚汁), a heartier pork and vegetable miso soup, as an upgrade.

ご飯は大・中・小、どれにしますか。

The third question surprises people. For fried things and fish taken from the cold case, staff often ask atatamemasu ka (温めますか, shall I warm it), and the plate goes into a microwave behind the counter. Say hai for yes. For tofu and salads, the answer is iie, sono mama de (いいえ、そのままで, no, as it is). Tea is usually up to you. In many shops it comes from an urn of hōjicha or bancha by the wall, with stacked cups and a small sign reading serufu (セルフ, self-service).

Tenma, Kyōbashi, Jūsō: where the cases are

Tenjinbashisuji Shōtengai (天神橋筋商店街) is a covered shopping arcade that runs north to south through Kita ward for well over two kilometres, and it is often called the longest in Japan. The stretch around JR Tenma Station (天満駅) on the Osaka Loop Line is packed with shokudō, standing bars and fishmongers. The side lanes are where the older glass cases are. A shop that sets out its plates early tends to have a short queue of regulars before the first office workers arrive.

Kyōbashi (京橋), east of Osaka Castle where the JR Loop Line meets the Keihan line, has the same mix, with an earlier crowd that includes people coming off night shifts. Jūsō (十三), across the Yodo River, is where the Hankyu Kobe, Takarazuka and Kyoto lines meet. Its streets of small eateries sit just outside the station's west exit. Inside, the rooms look much alike: a television mounted high in a corner, a sports newspaper left on the counter, and a lot of people eating alone. At peak times staff may seat you with strangers at a shared table. This is called aiseki (相席), and a small nod to the people already sitting there is all it takes.

Getting there, paying, and the plate you cannot put back

For Tenma, take the JR Osaka Loop Line to Tenma, or the Osaka Metro Sakaisuji or Tanimachi Line to Tenjimbashisuji 6-chōme (天神橋筋六丁目) at the arcade's north end and walk south. Jūsō is a few minutes from Osaka-umeda on any Hankyu train that stops there. Expect the noon hour to be at its busiest, and come mid-morning or after the lunch rush if you want time to look properly. Some shops open early and close in the afternoon, while others stay open into the evening and serve beer, and closing days vary. Check the hours posted on the door or the shop's own listing. For general neighbourhood information, use the official Osaka tourism site.

The bill is simply the plates you took plus whatever you ordered at the counter, so it rises and falls with your appetite. In some shops the staff add it up when they hand you your rice, and in others you pay at the register on the way out. Cash is common here, and whether cards or transit IC cards are accepted varies from shop to shop. Check for stickers by the register before you sit down. The mistake to avoid is treating the case like a display. Once a plate has left the shelf, and especially once the film is off, it is yours, so take two cold plates first and go back for a third if you are still hungry.