Sel Sal Sale is not one of those modest restaurants that keeps itself safely hidden out of sight behind an anonymous frontage. Quite the opposite: The wood-framed window onto the street invites you to slow down, pause and peer inside.
Stroll past at dinnertime — it's on one of the quieter routes connecting Ebisu with Daikanyama — and you'll see one of the most cheerful restaurant scenes in the neighborhood. It draws a smart, youngish, well-dressed crowd, who fill the place with a buzz that's happy but never too loud.
It's been like that ever since Sel Sal Sale (the third part of the name, meaning "salted," rhymes with "palais") moved here from Ikejiri just over a year ago. You won't find a menu outside, just an apologetic sign that reads along the lines of: "We regret we are full today, so please don't bother to even ask."