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'<i>Ah, c'est bon! C'est très, très bon."

A friend from Quebec is rhapsodizing over a platter of chicken karaage at Toratatsu, my new favourite izakaya.

Oui. These unbelievably tender pieces of free-range chicken are very, very good. They've been pickled in a citrus marinade, lightly dredged in cornstarch, flash fried, splashed with more marinade and served cold.

It tastes like a bouncy barbershop quartet on the tongue, each bite bursting with clear notes of chili, garlic, ginger and soy, yet all balanced in perfect harmony.

Chattanooga Choo Choo?

What prompted us to sing a happy song?

It must have been the parade of sublimely fresh sashimi. Or the simple joy of finding a casual Japanese restaurant where the chef doesn't smother everything in cream cheese and mashed potatoes.

Pour glorious weather into the mix. Stir in a stylish room with friendly service. Add a twist of sake shaken with lime (the crisp samurai cocktails were a huge hit). Then wash it all down with the sparkling joie de vivre of mes amis.

It's that time of year. The guests have started arriving. You'd like to take them somewhere that's uniquely West Coast, but not prohibitively expensive.

An izakaya is a great idea. It can also be a risky gamble.

I was so tired of being disappointed that I didn't even bother reviewing Toratatsu when it opened last year, despite its excellent pedigree. I'm glad I finally took the plunge.

This welcoming little room is owned by the Uno family, which operates an empire of 20-plus restaurants in Tokyo. They opened one of Vancouver's first izakayas, the old Raku on Thurlow Street, which was later sold to a manager and renamed Guu. The restaurant's new owner went on to open several others.

Four years ago, the Unos returned to launch the wildly popular Shiru-Bay Chopstick Café in Yaletown (recently closed to make way for an expanded Cactus Club Cafe). And I think it's fair to say that they have trained, mentored or at the very least influenced nearly every other izakaya owner and chef in the city.

Kodai Uno, the youngest son, handles the stoves at Toratatsu. The restaurant is located on Denman, near Robson, in the space briefly occupied by fusion-confused Clove.

Aesthetically, Toratatsu strikes a nice balance between the casual grubbiness of Gyoza King and Guu with Garlic, and the dark, slickly designed über-coolness of Hapa and Kingyo.

It's smaller and more intimate than the old Shiru-Bay. And when you step through a curtained entrance into the long, narrow room, nobody hollers out the standard greeting: "Irashimase!"

The closed kitchen is in the back, so the dining room isn't noisy or steamy.

Clove, with its sleek cream leather seating and bare light bulbs dangling over a long, curved bar, was a seductively spare room. The new owners have jazzed it up by painting the walls rich red and hanging them with a cheerful mosaic of stained glass, funky wine racks and giant mirrors.

But for me it's the menu (marked up on the mirrors in Japanese and English) at Toratatsu that really stands out. It's simple, traditional and doesn't stray too far out of the ordinary. What a relief.

Mr. Uno studied at the Pacific Institute of Culinary Arts and trained at the French restaurant L'Emotion. He gives a few nods to his European influences: liver mousse with dried figs ($5.80) and honeyed mascarpone tofu on a baguette, neither of which we try.

But he has pulled back on the truffle oils, béchamel sauces and roasted lamb chops that often steered Shiru-Bay off course.

The chicken karaage ($6.80) that had us singing is an escabeche, a very traditional, centuries-old hybrid introduced to Japan by Portuguese sailors.

Beef tataki ($8.80) could be sliced thinner. Made with Triple-A Canadian sirloin, the meat is bright ruby-red, ringed with a crusty sear, scattered with finely shaved red onions and splashed with soy-kicked sesame oil.

The sashimi platter ($15.80) comes with sake-licked scallops that are lightly torched at the table, thick slabs of glistening sockeye salmon and spotless cuts of pale pink albacore tuna, so delicate and moist we order two more plates.

The special board announces spot prawns that the supplier failed to deliver. But if you have to go with tiger prawns, you can't get much better than the firm, fleshy giants Mr. Uno imports from Japan. We had them in an order of ebi chili mayo ($8). They come three to a plate, very lightly fried in a golden, whisper-thin coating of tempura batter, topped with shaved almonds and a squirt of chili mayo that is reassuringly pale (not the screaming bright orange I've seen in other izakayas).

Chicken wings ($6.80) playfully described on the menu as "beer's best friend" are not the same chicken wings you get at Hooters. These are seasoned with salt, lightly fried and tossed with lemon zest.

Tokyo teriyaki ribs ($8.30) is the only dish that fails to impress. These are big pork ribs with lots of chewy fat and not much meat.

The tangy-sweet sauce did, however, make a good match with a smoky smooth bottle of Burrowing Owl Pinot Noir 2006 ($50). The bar doesn't offer much in the way of sake, but boasts a nicely stocked wine cellar.

Wine, Mr. Uno explains, is his passion. And he's eager to show customers that it can pair quite nicely with Japanese cuisine. With Toratatsu, he says he was actually trying to create more of a laid-back wine and tapas bar than an izakaya.

That's a break with tradition I can quite happily live with. And as our French-Canadian friends attest, this pleasantly mellow West Coast hybrid translates well in any language.

Toratatsu: 735 Denman St.;

604-685-9399.