Why Hina Yakitori Won’t Reopen in San Francisco

And at least anecdotally, it isn’t just Hina that’s struggling. Cleary says all of his friends who run restaurants in San Francisco have seen similar drop-offs in business. Even at the buzziest, most highly acclaimed fine-dining restaurants, Cleary says, “you can just walk in.”

While it’s hard to pinpoint a single root cause, Cleary says he can’t help but feel like Hina’s recent doldrums are somehow connected to the broader narrative about San Francisco that’s getting blasted out in the media and across WeChat group chats right now — that the whole city has turned into some kind of lawless wasteland. “The image that’s portrayed of San Francisco is not a good one,” he says. “For people outside the area, it’s like a punching bag.”

For a restaurant like Hina — a destination, special occasion spot for most diners — the downtick in out-of-town visitors has taken its toll. For instance, Cleary says he used to get a big chunk of business from overseas Chinese tourists, but all of that has dried up in the past year. “Even my uncle in Japan was like, ‘What’s going on in San Francisco?’”

Now, Cleary says he’s certain he doesn’t want to open another restaurant in San Francisco in the foreseeable future. But that doesn’t necessarily mean the end of the road for Hina. Cleary says he’s mulling over four different options at this point: He might reopen Hina more or less as it was — a tiny, boutique, omakase-style yakitori restaurant. Alternatively, he might open a more casual 40- or 50-seat izakaya. Or he might revive the fried chicken sandwich concept that he’d pivoted to during the height of the pandemic, when his take on Nashville hot chicken, seasoned with a Japanese shichimi togarashi spice blend, was one of San Francisco’s most delicious lunchtime takeout options. Whichever restaurant concept he settles on, he’ll look for a space somewhere in the East Bay or in the San Mateo area, where he grew up.

The fourth option would be the most unexpected: Cleary is getting married in Thailand this winter, and he says he might just pack everything up and move there outright. Hina Yakitori would do pretty well in Thailand, he thinks.

What has felt especially bittersweet, Cleary says, is how many longtime customers rushed to make reservations after the initial closure announcement. Within a day and half, they were fully booked for the rest of the month — a last gasp of business that came too late to save the restaurant.

Meanwhile, Cleary had already planned a whole month’s worth of special collaboration dinners in August featuring yakitori chefs from around the country. The original idea was to hype the restaurant up during this sluggish stretch, but the dinners were also meant to be a showcase for the burgeoning yakitori movement here in the U.S. These days, a growing number of pop-ups and restaurants are helping to expand people’s consciousness of the wide range of artistry one can achieve with hot charcoal and skewered chicken parts.

Take one of the guest chefs, Ozzie Mendoza Diaz, a Puerto Rican chef who did street-side yakitori pop-ups in New Orleans for years and is now in the process of opening a yakitori-focused izakaya called Fowlmouth on the island, in San Juan. A self-taught chef, Mendoza Diaz says he was inspired by the similarity between yakitori and pinchos — Puerto Rico’s own version of grilled meat on a stick. “Meat on a stick is cross-cultural as hell,” he tells me. And so his take on yakitori expresses traditional Puerto Rican flavors through the lens of techniques that are distinctly Japanese: His chicken oyster skewer with pigeon pea miso is a play on Puerto Rican arroz con gandules; his “pincho de pega’o” rice cake skewer celebrates Puerto Rican and Japanese people’s mutual love for the crunchy rice at the bottom of the pot.