Crony is what happens when a chef formed in Paris and Copenhagen decides Tokyo fine dining can be both very serious and genuinely reachable. Michihiro Haruta — born 1987, trained at Ledoyen in Paris and Quintessence in Tokyo, then at Kadeau in Copenhagen and Maaemo in Oslo — took the kitchen in December 2016, when the room was still in Nishi‑Azabu, and in February 2021 moved the whole operation to a glass‑walled house in Higashi‑Azabu, a minute from Akabanebashi Station. His sourcing philosophy is built on sustainably caught seafood and the “imperfect” vegetables the market rejects. His co‑owner, sommelier Kazutaka Ozawa, runs one of the city’s more thoughtful pairing lists.
The name means a companion you never tire of, and the room is built to match: tables rather than a counter, a little over twenty seats, one private room. It is, unusually for its tier, a restaurant you can book from your own sofa.
The exact system
- Online only. All reservations go through the web system — TableCheck is the official engine; Ikyu and Pocket Concierge carry tables too. The phone (11:00–17:30) is for changes, same‑day enquiries and special cases, not new bookings.
- Dinner only, first seating 18:00, entry through 19:30. Closed Sundays.
- Omakase course ¥28,600–30,800 (tax included) plus 10% (as of September 2026) service; mineral water is a separate ¥1,320 per head.
- Minimum two guests; no children under 16 in principle.
- Cancellation line: 120 hours. Change or cancel more than five days out and nothing is charged; inside that, 100%.
- Dress code is enforced — smart casual, and men are asked for a jacket or collared shirt. Shorts, sandals and sportswear may be turned away at the door.
- No dietary substitutions. Vegetarian, gluten‑free, halal, pescatarian and dairy‑free requests are declined outright, and the course is not altered at the table.
Crony does not stage a monthly release ritual the way Ginza’s sushi counters do. The book is a rolling window instead: every day at midnight Japan time, the same date two months ahead opens on the official TableCheck page. What goes first is what you would expect — Fridays, Saturdays, and any evening near the autumn‑foliage and cherry‑blossom peaks on the booking calendar.
The strategy
- Be on TableCheck at midnight Japan time, two months out. Instant confirmation means there is no waiting list to charm; an open date is yours in seconds.
- Check all three platforms. Inventory is not always mirrored in real time; a date gone on one can be alive on another.
- Watch the five‑day line. Because the penalty begins at 120 hours, cancellations cluster just before it — six to seven days out is when tables quietly reappear.
- Read the fine print before you commit. The dietary and dress rules are not negotiable at the door; the house would rather you know now than be turned away then. Our dietary guide explains why kitchens at this level say no.
For an itinerary anchored on one or two genuinely unbookable counters, Crony is the dependable French evening: a table you can confirm from a laptop, in a neighborhood — Azabu and Roppongi — that rewards an aimless walk afterward.
If the calendar is already full
Full calendars at Crony are rarely permanent; they are simply full today. Crony sits outside our collection, and we do not watch its platforms for you: save it in the booking calendar with a free account for release alerts, and check TableCheck yourself around the five‑day line. We do not book from your account, but our desk can phone the house and ask, at ¥12,000 per seat, charged only if we secure the table. Otherwise, browse the collection for the counters no platform reaches and put your dates on the request form — ¥6,000 per seat, no seat, no fee.