Long days spent wandering temples and zen gardens. But beneath its most celebrated surface, the city hides another soul—more informal, vibrant, just as deep and sprawling. A magma of bars and eateries impossible to fully explore, even for those who live here. Taverns where the conviviality of sake blends with the elegance of local cuisine, but also Italian and French wine bars, in a city that enjoys savoring life.

Blanka (ブランカ) is a strange and fascinating creature—half izakaya, half Asian trattoria, with a trendy twist. The cuisine, rich in spices and exotic flavors, surprises with its creative freedom. From the iconic “awamori coffee” (a highly alcoholic mix served like iced coffee—handle with care) to homemade sours with fresh fruits like hebesu (a small Japanese citrus) and blood oranges, everything is designed to intrigue. But the highlight comes after 9 p.m., when the owner asks, “Who wants rice?”—ready to serve freshly cooked rice with dreamy side dishes.

On a quiet street near Hōzō-ji Temple, manoir 28 is more than just a wine bar—it’s a silent refuge for those seeking a reflective moment with a glass in hand. The selection of around 300 bottles—wine only—is curated with care by the owner, a true master of hospitality, able to read in his guests’ eyes the perfect wine for them. The otsumami (small dishes) come from some of the city’s finest kitchens: from roast pork by the Chinese restaurant Taihō to the saba sushi from Gion Nishimura. Here, every sip is an encounter.

To call Il filo simply an Italian restaurant would be an understatement. It’s an “Italian kappō”: an open kitchen with no menu, just a list of ingredients, where each dish is born from the chef’s inspiration and whatever emerges from it. Pasta, meat, and wine become one-of-a-kind experiences, also thanks to the radiant presence of the sommelier, always ready to recommend the perfect bottle. It’s the kind of place you might visit just for a nostalgic cacio e pepe and a glass of wine—to feel at home.

Then there's the Kyoto experienced by locals, full of small daily rituals. Tatsumi, near Kawaramachi, is one of those places you go to just “because it’s there.” With its iconic U-shaped counter and a never-ending list of handwritten dishes plastered across the walls and even the fridges, it's the very essence of a democratic izakaya: bottled beer, potato salad, beef stew, and sometimes a seasonal surprise. On the other hand, Ryūmon is for those who crave the fire of Sichuan cooking. Its mapo tofu—spicy, rich—is now legendary, as are its authentically prepared yuxiang dishes, rich in garlic, ginger, vinegar, and chili. With little money, you leave happy—and on fire.

Lastly, two places where wine takes center stage, but without pretension. Shokudō Ruins, somewhere between a café and a French restaurant, located in a tastefully restored traditional machiya, serves surprising dishes like duck ham, grilled venison, and vegetables cooked with artisanal precision. The wine list is handwritten by the warm-hearted owner, and the beer is always at the perfect temperature.
TONA, on the other hand, is a French bistro disguised as a neighborhood bar, with a very cozy atmosphere. The menu reinvents French classics using local ingredients (the tsubugai in butter is remarkable), while the interior—with vintage lamps and Windsor chairs—speaks of a modern and curious Kyoto. It’s the kind of place you enter for a glass... and end up staying until closing time.

Kyoto never ends—not even at night. Between hidden sakaba, culinary creativity, and sincere humanity, the city offers its own unique way of drinking—and of living. Somewhere between a glass of wine and a steaming bowl of rice, you discover Japan’s most intimate side.