One Is Not Enough

It isn’t often that the Spanish word tapas shows up on a menu at a Japanese restaurant. Then again, the five-month-old One Bite Japanese Grill isn’t like any other restaurant. Don’t let the name fool you — it’s not a teppen-yaki steakhouse with manic chefs flipping eggs and shrimp over hot grills. And it’s not a sushi joint.

Back when she was still a student at Central Missouri State University, Yokahama-born Erika Koike decided to open her own version of an izakaya, which she calls a Japanese tavern — “a place where people stop in for a drink and a little bite of something.” Now that she’s the owner, manager and designer of the tiny One Bite, she has discovered that things in the United States are a bit different. “When I first opened, I did have smaller portions, but Americans really prefer to eat more.”

“That’s why Americans are so fat, honey,” I told her as I reached for another pan-fried dumpling from the half-dozen plump beauties in front of me. Over several visits to One Bite, I took hundreds of bites of many delicious things. In fact, I dare anyone to eat just one of anything there. Despite its location in one of those indistinguishable Johnson County strip malls (if you get lost, the landmark is the Sam’s Club), One Bite is a stylish little room.

It’s a narrow space with just five roomy booths and a long counter with 10 tall stools; behind the counter is a stainless-steel open kitchen and grill area. The floor is lacquered concrete, and the back wall is mirrored to make the skinny room look bigger than it is. Koike and her server Vickie (a pal from her CMSU days) scurry around taking orders, whisking away empty plates, pouring wine and sake and mixing cocktails behind the pint-sized bar. Among several signature cocktails there is a Spring U-la-la Martini made with pear sake, spiced rum and fresh fruit.

My friend Bob was more interested in the Ramune soda pop. Each oddly shaped bottle is sealed with a marble, so after it’s opened, the marble falls into the bottle neck and rattles around as you sip the soda. Bob loved the concept (Koike tells me kids do, too) but said it tasted just like any fruity American carbonated drink.

Bob and I were dining with Linda, who has traveled through most of Asia. A midtown girl, Linda had rolled her eyes at the idea of driving out to 133rd Street and Antioch, but the novel concept of One Bite intrigued her. “A Japanese tapas bar?” she said and laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”

She and Bob were crazy about this izakaya from the very first gyoza — otherwise known as a pan-fried dumpling filled with pork, beef or chicken. (There’s also the Chi-zu version, which the menu describes as a cheese dumpling.) “I should tell you that it has pork in it,” Vickie confessed. “Is that all right?” It was with me, but I’m not keeping kosher.

For starters, we shared other not-so-little bites: pillowy cubes of firm tofu fried to a light, crunchy, golden brown, and fat green mussels baked with a creamy mayonnaise-based sauce. (We later discovered that this sauce accompanies many of One Bite’s dishes.) To our amazement, tofu-hating Bob ate several fried squares of that gorogoro. And he couldn’t stop raving about the succulent mussels.

We also shared One Bite’s signature dish, okonomi-yaki, ordering it as an appetizer instead of an entrée. Koike calls the yaki a “Japanese pizza,” but it’s more like a fried flapjack made from a light batter, with shredded cabbage and various other ingredients, all topped with a malty Worcestershire-style sauce and more of that creamy mayo concoction. I wished I’d ordered a yaki strictly for myself after we also shared the “Mix Special” combination of vegetables, meat and seafood.

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But we’d agreed to do the tapas thing, sharing several items instead of ordering them as the full meals that come with rice and a small salad. “A lot of women don’t like the carbs, so they won’t eat rice,” Vickie explained. “They just want the tapas version.”

That’s what slender Linda did, nixing the salad and rice and sharing her bacon-wrapped asparagus maki maki with me. I chose the tapas version of the “Lollypop,” a plate of meaty grilled scallops wrapped in bacon and floating in that creamy sauce. Bob, however, insisted on the combo plate and enjoyed the cold iceberg lettuce salad sprinkled with almonds and doused in creamy sauce (it’s everywhere, I tell you) and the scoop of white rice that came along with a generous plate of tender, juicy cha-shu spareribs.

“This is the most untraditional Asian restaurant I’ve ever seen,” Linda said. The crowd is nontraditional, too, at least for Johnson County. Dining there during my visits were a couple of Indian families (there’s a nice Indian market next door), several well-dressed suburban couples and more than a few families with kids (who seem to love the joint as much as their parents because most of the menu items are finger foods).

We ate like there was no tomorrow, rolling out of the restaurant a bit after 8 p.m. By then, the dining room was nearly empty. “People like to eat early here and go home,” Koike says. Linda told her she should open an outlet in midtown: “You’ll have to stay open late and kick customers out because no one will want to leave.”

My friends Deb, Franklin and Marilyn thought the same thing after a trip to Koike’s dinette a few nights later. On the drive south, Deb kept asking what kind of Japanese restaurant would be named One Bite. I tried to explain the idea of an izakaya, but Deb didn’t really get it until we sat down in one of the booths, listened to the light jazz playing over the sound system and nibbled on some of the paper-thin fried carrot chips that arrive before every meal like tortilla chips at a Mexican restaurant. “It’s kind of a neighborhood hangout — with dumplings,” Deb said.

Franklin was most impressed with the snazzy look of the place, it’s stylish details, such as square china plates and vivid orange bowls for soy sauce — and the prettiest restrooms of any metro restaurant. “You have to see them,” he said. “They’re simple but so elegant. And there’s a bowl of mints and complimentary dental floss!”

I nearly choked on my yaki at his enthusiasm. Good thing I didn’t, though, because it was a “Cheese Bomb” made with, yes, cheese, as well as sweet corn and bacon. (There’s a cheese version made without meat, but it’s not the bomb.) Marilyn ordered yaki as an entrée, and the meat-and-vegetable version stood as high as a small cake, heaped with a frizzy cap of fried noodles. “It’s so rich,” she said. “I know I need to stop eating it, but it’s so good, I just can’t.” In an effort to restrain herself, she cut a big wedge and slid it over onto my plate.

Franklin, who can’t pass up anything with the word combo in the description, ordered a teriyaki plate with grilled chicken and beef drenched in a tarty soy-based sauce. Deb chose the shellfish version, “All About Shrimp.” “It’s lovely,” she said, impressed with the creative presentation.

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My favorite visual that night came in the form of dessert. Koike calls her rice-sheathed mochi ice cream balls “Snowballs” because she slathers them in a flurry of whipped cream. Even more decadent were deep-fried pastry-wrapped cheesecake bites drizzled with raspberry sauce. Franklin ate most of those — each in one bite.