The term “hidden gem” is not one I use lightly, but when trying to describe Machiko, it feels entirely appropriate. This highly unassuming restaurant on Kollwitzstraße, a stretch of Prenzlauer Berg more commonly associated with posh market stalls and rosé-sipping locals in polo shirts than with best-in-class Japanese izakayas, is truly one of the most underrated places I’ve come across in years.

For the research phase of the best Japanese restaurants in Berlin, a Japanese friend pointed me towards Machiko and since then, I've become a regular at this gem of a restaurant, without telling anyone about it. Due to her humble, Japanese nature, owner Machiko initially asked me not to share the story about her little enclave, fearing what potential fame might do to the place. But after a year of long discussions during dinner snd earning her trust, we both agreed that now is the time to stop gatekeeping.

Machiko Akazawa, originally from Hiroshima, runs her restaurant with calm authority. There is no theatricality to her hospitality, she moves through the space with the ease of someone who has fed people professionally for years and understands that a good experience is about attention rather than performance. The atmosphere feels lived-in and genuine, and from the moment you walk through the doors, you’re immersed in an unmistakable Tokyo neighbourhood izakaya vibe.

First and foremost, Machiko is about drinking and socializing. Regardless of what your poison is, what you will be served at Machiko will be extra special. The food follows suit with its direct, unpretentious and deeply satisfying nature. The octopus and potato salad is the best example: Machiko's signature dish has a marvellously creamy texture, generously seasoned and laced with garlic, which perfectly balances the tender pieces of octopus. It sounds simple, but it's the kind of dish that delivers the kind of magic that makes you re-order it again without hesitation.

Machiko's marinated squid, glossy and savoury, is a classic, Japanese drinking snack that might seem daunting a first, but which makes perfect sense once you have a glass in your hand. A tin of high quality sardines, gently warmed and served with tomato sauce, captures the kitchen’s philosophy in one plate. There is no attempt to disguise the simplicity. Instead, the focus is on quality and seasoning. Machiko also ages and dries fish in house, serving it grilled or as sashimi with a depth of flavour that belies the understated setting. Even dishes that appear improvised, such a karaage fried chicken folded into a bright kimchi salad or lamb chops coated in curry sauce, reveal a precise and utterly confident palate.

Drinks are not an afterthought but a defining feature of Machiko, it’s a proper Izakaya after all. The selection of artisanal sake, shochu and serious wine bottles is unusually broad for Berlin, curated with obvious care and knowledge. Highlights include a Shochu tomato highball that’s funky, savoury and refreshing all at once, something like a Japanese reinterpretation of a Bloody Mary, stripped of excess and sharpened for serious drinking.

Machiko works best when approached in stages. Order a few plates, choose a sake or highball, let the conversation stretch. Then repeat. The rhythm of the meal, the interplay between small dishes and thoughtful drinks, is what gives the place its pulse. In a dining scene that often gravitates toward spectacle, Machiko offers substance. It is one of the most quietly compelling addresses in Berlin’s Japanese scene, not because it tries to impress, but because it does not need to. From this day the status of Machiko as a hidden gem might be over, but that's the thing about hidden gems: No one deserves to be discovered more.