By Marie-Antoinette Issa
According to the adage, crime doesn’t pay. But, at Izakaya Mitto, bending a few heritage rules certainly does. Housed in an 1880s police station in The Rocks, this new Japanese izakaya turns "do time” into "dine time.” Former holding cells now hold diners, sandstone walls that once witnessed confessions now witness clinking sake cups and the only antics happening here are on your taste buds. Same building, totally (re)charged. And thankfully, no one’s getting arrested!
Stepping inside Mitto is like being booked in for an indulgent crime of pleasure. A softly lit corridor - lined with paper lanterns that break absolutely no heritage redevelopment laws - guides you through the processing line. Walls stay intact, windows stay original and light sneaks in like a clever accomplice. Caught red-handed. Three of the dining areas occupy former cells, a cheeky nod to the building’s past. Where there were once bars, there is now banter. Where suspects once waited, diners linger over sake and small plates. Kewpie mayo characters peek from corners, Godzilla figurines keep watch and imported Japanese paper decor makes the whole thing feel like a cultural stakeout - playful, precise and perfectly deliberate.
But, Mitto never forgets it’s in Sydney. Terracotta plates echo the rich red soils of the outback, grounding the space locally, while reflective surfaces catch the light like the nearby harbour winking back. Heritage and modernity collide like a well-timed sting, creating a dialogue between Japan and Australia that feels effortless.
Every evening at Mitto comes with a little ceremonial policing of your own: the wish board. Guests jot down a wish on a hinoki wooden board - fragrant wood that smells like good intentions - and then strike a ceremonial gong. The resonant ring cuts through chatter like a sergeant’s whistle, pausing the room for a collective breath, a collective hope. Case closed.
Welcome drinks are just as disciplined. Dassai sake and Suntory beer are presented with care, each a masterclass in Japanese brewing tradition.
And then the main offence: the food. Izakaya-style pub sharing plates encourage grazing and slightly rebellious indulgence. Spicy teriyaki tofu balances heat and sweetness like a perfectly executed stakeout. Wagyu foie gras nigiri is buttery, decadent, and almost criminal in its richness. Fried oysters pull off a crispy heist, stealing the show before you’ve even read your rights.
The salmon miso yaki, however, is the real perp - arriving on a hinoki wood sheet and torched tableside, releasing a fragrant smoke that arrests everyone’s attention. The miso caramelises perfectly, the salmon flakes with gentle pressure, and the aroma lingers like a mischievous clue left at the scene. It’s theatrical, indulgent, and downright addictive - culinary lawlessness at its finest.
Hosts dressed in traditional kimono move among diners with the poise of seasoned detectives, while ikebana floral arrangements soften the stoic stone interiors. Japanese music hums through the space, setting a calm, convivial tone before a DJs occasionally take over outside, escalating the energy from serene to celebratory. The full izakaya experience unfolds like a well-orchestrated operation, one clink, one bite, and one shared laugh at a time.
In a building once dedicated to order and enforcement, Mitto delivers a criminally good dining experience. Consider this your official warning: once you’re booked in, you’ll want to return. No bail required.
