Gyoza (crescent-shaped dumplings) were originally eaten in China during New Years celebrations. They are a food of luxury; one I feel I never quite get enough of, and crave all year round. What occasion would I have to go and eat a shitload of gyoza? If I go to a regular Japanese restaurant, I’m going to order like a regular person; fulfilling my hidden desire to slip 10-15 of them down my gullet would feel a little uncouth.
Here’s where the gyoza bar fucks things up. When you enter a place called Gyoza Bar, it’s technically offensive to eat any less than 10 gyoza. Sure there are other options like ramen and buns (if it’s buns you’re after, there are better ones in Soho) but no one goes to Honest Burger and orders the bloody chicken wings (no one respectable anyway, don’t @ me).