Shabu-shabu is one of those words that I could happily go about saying all day long. Granted, I might end up in a company of one, but hey, shabu-shabu. At Hyoto Kyoto I was alone, and I was there for the shabu-shabu.
Before you set foot in Hyoto you can divine that they want to elevate shabu-shabu from a "great party dish," as Japanese culinary maestro Shizuo Tsuji called it, to a fine dining experience. From outside it's difficult to tell if you're entering an upscale boutique or perhaps an understated wedding venue.
Inside the restaurant, which is essentially one long room flooded with light, tables are sequestered behind floor-to-ceiling screens composed of chain mail so that the light and the aroma from the pots bubbling over filters around the restaurant. The waiting staff, all female and all dressed in kimonos, glide past in and out of sight. It's all very theatrical, but understated.