Gaijin Izakaya

Chicago pace at a Zürich pass

The grill takes the first decision: heat, smoke, then the plate. Chef-patron Daniel Shu leads Gaijin Izakaya in Zürich, a kitchen built for small plates, close timing and food that lands best when the table shares it. His training ran through Chicago and New York, and the precision shows in what the house calls contemporary Asian soul food: charcoal work over a traditional Japanese grill, bold flavour, local produce and imports chosen for a reason. Shu's stated aim is unpretentious deliciousness rather than technique on display. That discipline suits Gaijin's frame. The restaurant calls itself an izakaya, but the work does not sit inside a museum version of the form. It takes Japanese preparation as a base and lets influences from across Asia and beyond enter the method, from grilled meat to vegetable plates that carry smoke, crunch, salt and sauce in the same bite.

Gaijin has been recognized with a Michelin Bib Gourmand and 14 Gault & Millau points, but the room wears that lightly. The food stays closer to appetite than ceremony. What can be read clearly is the nature of the pass: a chef working in a compact, lively restaurant where the plate has to be direct, seasoned, and ready for a table already reaching for the next dish.

Charcoal, crunch, and the sharing plate

The method at Gaijin turns on the izakaya habit of drinking food: dishes with enough edge to meet beer, sake, and cocktails, built in portions that move across the table. The kitchen uses charcoal grilling on a traditional Japanese grill, with bamboo fuel noted for the smoked flavour guests associate with the grilled items. That heat gives the menu its spine, especially when Wagyu beef, chicken, pork belly, or seafood arrive in quick succession rather than as a formal main course.

The signatures are not quiet copies. Brussels sprouts with rice crispies and katsuobushi take a vegetable often treated as duty and give it texture, garlic chili aioli, and a savoury pull. Candied pork belly brings sweetness against fat. Chicken karaage, gyoza, tempura shrimp, and Wagyu sit beside omakase sequences that may move through eggplant, pork belly with rice, fish tartare, chicken, and beef. The program also leaves room for a la carte ordering, which matters here because the table can assemble its own rhythm. One plate brings smoke. Another brings crunch. The next resets the palate for a drink from the bar.

A small room with music in service

The room keeps the work close. Tables sit near one another, modern music runs beneath the service, and the energy belongs to a small restaurant rather than a dining room arranged for distance. Plates pass through the room quickly because the format asks for motion: omakase when the kitchen leads, small plates when the table builds its own sequence, drinks folded through both. This is upscale casual in the useful sense, with the pass doing disciplined work while the floor keeps the tone loose.

Gaijin’s design is polished without asking the guest to become formal. That suits the food. Smoke from the grill, rice crispies under katsuobushi, pork belly cut for sharing, and sake or craft beer on the table all point back to the same idea: an izakaya in Zürich’s Kreis 4 translated by cooks who understand that the method matters more than the label.

The dish that keeps the room honest

At Gaijin, the kitchen lets vegetables, grilled meat, and drinks carry equal weight. The Bib Gourmand belongs to this address, and it fits a restaurant where value is measured in pace, seasoning, and how quickly a table finds its own order. If the next service changes the omakase, the bench still has to answer to the same plate: Brussels sprouts, katsuobushi, and garlic chili aioli.