Japan’s tourism boom is breaking records — and testing a few tempers. Some visitors are discovering otoshi, the surprise ¥300 appetizer they never ordered, and they’re not happy about it. Quietly placed on the table at izakayas — then added to the bill — this small dish has become a recurring source of confusion, frustration and online outrage.
Case in point: A recent incident at a Tokyo izakaya saw a group of six tourists erupt over a ¥3600 charge for otoshi dishes they assumed were complimentary. In fact, they were ¥300 apiece, and the cost doubled after they ordered a second round. “No! No! Crazy!” they shouted, gesturing in disbelief as staff scrambled for translation apps. Eventually, the manager intervened. Peace was restored. But the internet took note.
In English-speaking travel forums, otoshi is often labeled a “compulsory appetizer” or “Japan’s sneaky cover charge.” But these kinds of monikers miss something important: Unlike a Western-style cover, otoshi comes with actual food. And if you’re coming from a country where tipping 15 to 20 percent is standard, you’re still saving money.
Where Did Otoshi Come From?
To understand otoshi, you have to understand what an izakaya is — and was. These casual pubs trace their roots to the Edo period, when sake sellers began letting customers linger and drink on-site. The term izakaya literally comes from “i” (to stay) and “sakaya” (sake shop). These early drinking spots were informal, standing-room-only places where regulars sipped cheap sake and snacked on whatever the shop had on hand.
As the izakaya evolved into sit-down establishments with broader menus and longer hours, the otoshi developed as a way to manage service flow and secure a basic income. As tipping is considered awkward or even rude in Japan, a small appetizer served automatically became a built-in way to compensate for seating, service and prep.
Otoshi also serves a practical role. The word comes from the verb tosu, which means “to let through” or “to pass along.” In izakaya lingo, this refers to either the act of showing guests to their table or passing their first drink order to the kitchen — with a small appetizer offered to “pass the time” while the food catches up.
Originally, it functioned as a kind of signal: Once the otoshi was placed, staff knew the customer had officially ordered. Over time, it also became a de facto table charge — a stand-in for tipping or a service fee in a country where those customs don’t exist. Unlike Korea’s free-flowing banchan or Spain’s gratis tapas, otoshi comes with a price tag. That alone, for some tourists, crosses the line between charming custom and sneaky upcharge.
Culture Clash in a Small Dish
The problem isn’t the charge. It’s the lack of context. Most izakayas don’t explain it unless asked, and there’s rarely signage. And for foreign visitors unfamiliar with Japanese dining etiquette, it can feel like a bait-and-switch.
Some shops in Tokyo’s Golden Gai have started removing otoshi entirely for foreign guests, raising drink prices slightly instead — only to get hit with new complaints about the “foreigner markup.” Others are leaning into clarity, framing otoshi as a cover charge or table fee. Technically accurate, and far more palatable. “Cover charge” is a concept most tourists understand: You pay to sit, and you get a snack. Simple.
In the end, the otoshi debacle may say more about global dining expectations than about Japan. In countries where tipping is expected but often arbitrary, otoshi is arguably the more honest system: a flat, low-cost, edible cover. But when it’s unexplained — and unfamiliar — it becomes a lightning rod for cultural friction.
