Ok, here’s the quick version: pay a visit to Poporoya, when in Milan. It’s a gem. Food is great, fresh, fun and the atmosphere of the place makes it special. Go for chirashi. Also don’t be shy and explore the menu with no fear of disappointment.

The longer version: some restaurants are just something else. In places like those, not only you taste excellent food, whatever the cuisine, but also experience the unique character of the people behind it. Poporoya is one of those, a unique place.

Chef Minoru “Shiro” Hirasawa’s little Japanese kitchen - a place that opened in its first form in the early ‘70s, well ahead of the much more recent sushi craze - is tiny, down to earth, quirky, cheerful. It is not fancy in a glossy fashionable sense of the word: it’s all about good food and personality. Getting a spot is a matter of patience and strategy, especially on weekends. I ended up there on a rainy day upon recommendation of a good friend of mine, also a food rascal, during my most recent visit to Milan. By the gods of Valhalla!, it has been worth it.

Shiro is best known for his chirashi, a bowl of sushi rice covered with raw fish goodness. Imagine a huge rainbow nigiri in a bowl.

The artfully assembled slices of fish are fresh, tasty, and of a generous size without being unwieldy to your chopsticks. Rice is impeccable. Avocado punctuates the dish here and there, adding to body and texture. Ingredients are mixed with expertise. All best features of sushi are there: simple, fresh (there, I said it again), well presented. It requires modesty and skill, passion channeled by composure and exercise.

This would be enough for me to suggest you lift your weary limbs, get there and replenish yourselves with this Milanese chirashi pleasure.

But that’s not all. By far. My lust for food made me ask for grilled squid rings in a teriyaki sauce, and some nasu dengaku, broiled aubergine covered with miso glaze and sesame seeds, a classic “Japanese pub” dish. Verdict? Also really good, especially the aubergine.

At this point it’s important to mention that my dining companions and I were sat at the tiny sushi counter, with direct access to Shiro himself. I’ll tell you a super secret (that probably you and everyone else already know about): those are always the best seats in a sushi place, possibly in every restaurant. You can talk to the chefs and be nice to them. If they have the time for it and are in the right mood, the reward will be great.

So we thanked “il Capo”, the Boss, and his aide, for what they had done for us so far. Shiro didn’t shy away from the conversation and we soon found ourselves talking about his next door enterprise, a more formal restaurant bearing his name and run by his son, sporting Tokyo-inspired Japanese cuisine. And take a look at the pictures from this review, you’ll see him unashamedly posing for a silly photo along with his creations. (Thanks, dude, really.)

That’s it? End of fun? Nuh-uh: we couldn’t have left without nigiri. It would’ve been disrespectful - towards our gluttony, that is. Supple, unctuous, salty, well supported by the tiny rice bed, Shiro’s nigiri did not let us down. Neither did he: getting hold of a bottle of imo shochu, a distilled sweet potato spirit smooth as silk and packed with umami, he celebrated the end of our meal with a toast.

Straight into the “that’s why I ❤️ food” list. I shall be back to Poporoya, and you should also go. Then go again. And again. And again.