The alleyways are narrow but brightly lit. Ubiquitous red lanterns illuminate the small restaurants lining the pedestrian ways and every one is packed to capacity. The air is full of noise; the sizzle of grills, the raucous chatter of mildly inebriated diners and the lecherous catcalls of larger than life yakitori chefs. These gentleman, sweating over smoking hotplates, are part entertainer, part chef and part tout. Several test their charisma on our predominantly female group as we pass. There’s a hint of sleaze here but it’s mostly charming. We are walking through Omoide Yokocho – literally Memory Lane, although more colourfully known as Piss Alley – in Tokyo’s inimitable Shinjuku district.

Along these vivid thoroughfares my five senses compete for mastery, but a clear winner emerges. The aroma of frying chicken and leek skewers on the night air is having an unsocial effect on me. Each full restaurant we pass – usually a tiny, cramped establishment with a row of no more than 10 diners – makes me increasingly eager to hoist someone out of their seat to get at the succulent piles of meat. It has, after all, been a very busy summer’s day and the temperature is still around 30 degrees with the humidity hovering near three figures.

Eventually our prayers are answered. A family departs and presently plates of grilled offerings are placed before us. The food turns out to be worth the wait. My only queasy moment is coaxing down a ball of intestine, which my most adventurous colleague has ordered. The soft texture alarms my thoroughly Western palette, almost as much as the knowledge that I am eating part of a creature’s digestive tract. A few quick swigs of beer puts me right though and discovering that a yakitori feast (with beverage) has only set me back about 1700 yen ($19) makes me forget all about the intestine.

This is just the first of a succession of experiences on the five-day Bite Size Tokyo itinerary offered by Intrepid Travel. The tour gives visitors an easy introduction to the Japanese capital and, pleasingly, the common thread of the activities is food. And while most of the trip focuses on Tokyo, it also takes in the beautiful small city of Hakone. This weekender destination is surrounded by restful hills and provides the perfect scenic interlude, complete with views of majestic Mt Fuji. And if this trip won’t suffice for the committed gourmand, Intrepid also offers a comprehensive 12-day Japan Real Food Adventure that takes in Tokyo, Nikko, Koya San, Kyoto and Osaka.

But back to the eating and there is more good news – dining right throughout Japan is reassuringly cheap. And being very much a first world country, the incidence of illness from eating poorly prepared food is extremely low. So while dining in a place known as Piss Alley would be alimentary suicide in certain other Asian destinations, in Japan it’s a safe bet. The food is also unerringly fresh and, by and large, very healthy. Staples such as rice, wheat, egg and a general fondness for fish (contrasting with the Western predilection for meat) are no doubt just one reason why the average Japanese individual looks remarkably svelte and enjoys the world’s longest life expectancy.

For an Australian the hardest meal to negotiate is likely to be breakfast, but as visitors will quickly discover, a more traditional Japanese breakfast sets you up marvellously well for the day.

Tokyo is replete with small dining establishments, which cater for the working classes and time poor business executives alike. A common element is the vending machine by the entrance. Here you pick your meal from the pictures on the front of the machine, insert your yen and present the chef with your ticket. As with many things in Japan, it’s a more efficient way of undertaking a rudimentary task.

Shortly after I expend 300 yen ($4) on my second morning in Tokyo I am given a compartmentalised tray of food. Included are a bowl of rice, a lightly fried egg, a bowl of miso soup, some flat sheets of seaweed and a packet containing natto. Unlike anything a Western breakfaster is likely to have encountered, natto is a sticky, brackish soybean mix. The beans themselves are fermented with a grass bacterium, bacillus subtilis, which gives the food its unique colour and a distinctly pungent smell.

The egg, rice and miso all serve their purpose for me, providing plenty of starch, protein and energy, but the natto is rather more challenging – something of an acquired taste. Customarily the diner mixes a series of condiments into the sticky soybeans and eats it with rice. Once mixed the beans adhere together in a cluster of sap and as you eat, hundreds of tiny adhesive tendrils hang from your chopsticks, mouth and chin. It’s a firm favourite among Japanese, but one which I struggle to enjoy. But then, I didn’t appreciate Vegemite enough to eat it until my mid 20s either.

Later in the day we are privileged enough to receive a lesson in the creation of another Japanese classic. Soba noodles are a restaurant specialty and their creation is considered an artform. The noodles, made predominantly of buckwheat flour (soba translates as buckwheat) and a small quantity of wheat flour, are not only tasty, but very healthy as well. Their preparation, however, is a tricky matter for the uninitiated. Our noodle making school is located on the second floor of a nondescript building on Tokyo’s northern outskirts, but there are other locations in the capital where visitors can try their hand.

Our noodle making sensei, who speaks English ashamedly – despite his excellent command of the language – takes us through the process, explaining the steps in a deliberate, patient tone. The combination of the buckwheat flour with the wheat flour and water is a surprisingly intricate procedure of many steps. Next comes a series of rolling manoeuvres which, although made to look effortless by the sensei, utterly confound me. Eventually the fellow journalist who I am paired with spares my blushes and rolls the dough in a distinctly more expert fashion.

Finally we are left with a oblong piece of dough, distinctly ragged in appearance compared to the one our sensei produced in less than half the time. From here we take turns applying half millimetre slices to the dough using a handheld cutting device. My first attempts produce abnormally large spaghetti strands. Secondary attempts, to my great pleasure and surprise, produce something that appears much more like the genuine article.

Finally, our creations are taken off and swiftly cooked, before we hungrily dispose of them. The noodles are eaten traditionally, on a zaru (bamboo tray) and served with a tsuyu (a dipping broth of mirin, soy and dashi stock).

However, if a slightly less healthy lunch beckons you, then you ought to seek out monja, the best Japanese food you’ve never heard of. Short for monjayaki, this dish is a close relative of the better known okonomiyaki, or savoury Japanese pancake. But monja differs subtly, beginning life as a liquid mixture served in a bowl, with firmer ingredients such as chopped vegetables, meat or fish on top. A chef then dumps the entire bowl onto a hotplate, adds an impressive series of spices and condiments then mixes them together into a quasi-solid batter. It looks for all the world like someone has been sick on the hotplate, but the smell relates an entirely more palatable tale.

The curiosity continues with the eating – each diner is given a tiny spatula which they then use to peel small portions of semi cooked food from the hotplate. The crispier, slightly overcooked pieces are the connoisseur’s choice, we are told. Several of my party are so taken, there is talk of opening a monja chain in Australia. The Tsukishima district of Tokyo is the supposed birthplace of monja, and remains among the best places to find it.

My final evening in Tokyo sees me in upmarket Ginza, amid the bright lights and skyscrapers, out with friends at Shin Hinomoto, or Andy’s izakaya. The izakaya is a fine Japanese tradition, a casual drinking establishment that serves an array of hearty food. And Andy’s, run by an expat Briton, is no exception. First class sashimi sourced straight from Tsukiji fish markets is astoundingly good here, but the truth is that Tokyo is full of wonderful izakaya options. The hardest part is picking just one.