It is fair to say that the second time I visited Munakata Beef House was significantly better than the first.
The first time I had trundled to Olympic (yes, that's a place here) on the recommendation of a colleague, it had been during Munakata's "soft opening" phase, although this would, annoyingly, have been better described as the "definitely closed for renovations" phase. Standing outside a closed restaurant with a rather despondent looking dining companion on a back street in Olympic was, unfortunately, not an uncommon state of affairs. It had happened one Wednesday previously with the same dining companion when attempting to visit a highly recommended Singaporean restaurant (closed Wednesdays), and although it led to the unexpected discovery of a decent Beijing-style restaurant nearby, it was becoming an irritating pattern.
This, my second time at Munakata, I promised myself a different outcome. I had called to confirm that they were open and had my dining companion do the same for fear I was getting the traditional "tell the foreigner what he wants to hear so he leaves you alone" line from the lady on the other end of the phone. Coincidentally, it was apparently their first day of opening following their extensive renovations, which either meant that we were in for a long wait outside in the cold due to their no reservations policy, or we would be greeted by a freezing half empty room filled with eager staff and precious few customers. Thankfully, it was the latter.
Like those identikit Irish pubs which litter the globe and seemingly buy all their various Paddy O'Bollocks ornaments from the same giant warehouse in God-knows-where, Munakata seemed to be carefully executing a pre-existing plan when it came to Japanese restaurant design. Like a number of high-end sushi joint in HK there were no windows to the outside, making the journey inside feel like a step into a different world. Once through the obligatory white calligraphy-covered teatowel over the entrance (which I always feel like must pick up a lot of men's hair gel), you step into a room with blond wood everywhere in sight, a huge L shaped bar where diners sit to eat whilst glimpsing over the top to the chefs preparing their food, bright but not overbearing lighting and the typically efficient but unhurried atmosphere so characteristic of many a good Japanese eatery. The only thing which was slightly off was the louder than necessary Japanese drumming music which, whilst mildly hypnotic, felt like it was building to a crescendo every two minutes or so without really ever getting to the point. In short (excluding the music) it was a genuinely nice place to eat whilst feeling like you had been transported straight to Tokyo, or (with the music) it was a scene from a Tokyo-based Quentin Tarantino movie immediately before the heroine coats the previously undecorated bamboo walls with spatters of her enemy's blood.
The menu was limited and wasn't in English, but happily this wasn't a place where you were ever going to struggle to decipher your options. Put simply, it does beef and rice. And that's it. If you aren't a fan of meat and rice, the Hong Kong dining scene really isn't the place for you anyway. You name the animal, Hong Kong will kill it, roast it and put it on a plate of rice for you to enjoy. Duck and rice. Char siu pork and rice. Goose and rice. Beef brisket and rice. Chicken and rice. Lemongrass pork chop and rice. To some this may read like a nice bucket list of things to eat on your holiday in Hong Kong before you fly home to a juice cleanse and probable deep vein thrombosis. For me, that list reads like a food diary of my lunches for the last, well…forever. Vegetables are often a comical afterthought, often a single spear of green veg or some limp, oily lettuce under the meat – a sort of derisory and comical "f*ck you" to the concept of five-a-day.
But this wasn't about vegetables, as it shouldn't be when you go to somewhere with "BEEF HOUSE" in the name. This was about meat and rice. And to be fair to Munakata, this is some fairly special meat and rice.
The beef comes in various grades, with the (pricey) high water mark being a gorgeous marbled, dark mahogany colour cut from Japan which reminded me of the colour of great Jamon Iberico from Spain. There are a few less pricey cuts, as well as some combos combining expensive and less expensive together, which probably offer the best bang for your buck and which we plumped for. Each set comes with the chosen cut of (rare) grilled and sliced beef draped elegantly over still-warm rice in a beautiful lacquerware-style box, with the whole lot (apart from the box itself) brushed generously with a moreish sweet and salty glaze. There are a few pickles and some fried garlic on the side to liven things up if your taste buds get bored, as well as an optional miso soup and onsen egg, but the star of the show is undeniably the beef and rice.
Having ordered the combo sets, it immediately became apparent that, unsurprisingly, nicer things generally cost more, and I grudgingly handed over half of the premium Japanese cow slices to my companion in exchange for some nice (but, let's be fair, vastly inferior) lumps of New Zealand born heffer, whilst cursing not shelling out a good chunk of my weekly wages for the full box of the good stuff.
And that, really, is just about that. I ate it all, I enjoyed it a lot, and I'd go back. Not one for a date night with a vegan, but then, to be fair, where in Hong Kong is?