Japan has been on my travel bucket list for as long as I can remember. Maybe it’s the food, maybe it’s the culture, or maybe it’s because everyone I know who’s been there comes back with stories that make you want to book the next flight. Until that trip happens, restaurants that promise an authentic taste of Japan are the next best thing. That’s what brought me to Call Me Ten in Basant Lok, one of Delhi’s newest Japanese restaurants.
The name is the first thing that pulls you in, and it’s meant to. In Japanese philosophy, ten stands for completeness, but at Call Me Ten, it’s really shorthand for two restaurants sharing one address. Level 0 downstairs is the lively izakaya—sharing plates, cocktails, conversations that run long. Level 1 upstairs is a quieter omakase bar, built around whatever the guest wants that night. It’s a clever bit of branding, but it’s not just branding; the philosophy follows through onto the plate, too.
A Space That Refuses To Try Too Hard
Step inside, and it takes a minute to notice everything that’s been done here. The interiors, designed by Sanchit Arora and RENESA Architecture Design Interiors Studio, lean on the Japanese principle of ma—the beauty of negative space—rather than resorting to the usual cultural shorthand of lanterns and cherry blossoms. What you notice instead are sculpted curves, polished concrete, warm timber, and lighting that’s layered rather than bright or moody in any one register. It feels understated at first glance, but the longer you spend here, the more details come into focus, from the craftsmanship in the woodwork to the gentle curves of the seating.
The room is also built to change temperature throughout the day. What feels bright and easy at lunch turns more intimate and theatrical once the evening sets in, so Level 0 by itself does the job of two different restaurants depending on when you walk in. Everything about the design—the muted palette, the soft curves, the restraint is engineered to disappear behind the food, the drinks, and whoever you’re sitting across from.
The Menu Gets Bolder
The new menu is a shift from introduction to indulgence, a shift that happens once a restaurant trusts its diners to keep up. A clutch of new additions runs through nearly every section: the Chili Crunch Avocado & Tofu and the Smoked Duck Salad on the salads list; the Hamachi Ceviche and Charred Pineapple Ceviche for something brighter and more acidic; new sushi in the Avocado Inari, Salmon Inari, and Tuna & Cucumber Gunkan; a pair of Green Chili Gyoza (one vegetarian, one chicken) that trade the usual dumpling sauces for a cleaner chili kick; small plates in the Avocado Taco, Duck Spring Roll, and Pulled Pork Soft Taco; and off the robata, a Portobello Mushroom and Chicken Yakitori.
The real headline, though, is the Japanese Pizzetta section in its entirety, six-inch pizzas that have no business making sense on a modern Japanese menu and somehow do. Japan has over a thousand pizzerias, and Call Me Ten’s version leans straight into that unlikely overlap, rather than downplaying it with miso glazes, garlic soy butter, gochujang chicken, and four cheeses balanced with miso honey. It’s the dish that best explains the whole restaurant, familiar enough to order without a second thought, distinctive enough that you’ll still be talking about it after the cheque arrives.
Dessert gets two new entries as well—The Hot Mess, a warm brownie-cookie skillet built around a molten centre, and the Tropical Sunshine Tres Leches, a coconut tres leches finished with mango and passion fruit that reads more like a palate cleanser than a heavy closer.
The Star Dish
If I had to pick, the Smoked Duck Salad and the Hamachi Ceviche were the two dishes I kept coming back to. The duck salad plays a smart balancing act—house-smoked duck against citrus, pickled vegetables, and a honey-soy chilli dressing—so it never tips into being just a “meat on greens” salad; every bite has something sweet, smoky, and sharp happening at once. The Hamachi Ceviche does something similar from a different direction, yellowtail dressed with citrus, ají amarillo, coconut, and chilli, which sounds like it’s fighting itself on paper but lands clean and bright. Between the two, they’re the strongest argument on the menu for how comfortable this kitchen is mixing Japanese technique with ideas that have nothing to do with Japan.
The Drinks
I’m not a spirit-forward cocktail person, so I stuck to the Hanami Fizz, which features Grey Goose, cherry blossom cordial, bubbles, and a touch of sea salt, built as a nod to cherry blossom season. It’s light and floral with just enough salinity to stop it from turning into a sugar bomb, and it let me ease into the meal.
But the menu clearly isn’t designed around people like me. It’s organised like a kaiseki course, Sakizuke, Zensai, Wagashi, with the cocktails growing bolder and more spirit-forward as the “courses” progress. The Elitare channels an endless afternoon of IPAs and G&Ts through gin, hops, and orange peel milk. The Caribbean Summer clarifies tequila, pineapple, and coconut into something crystal-clear with a Sichuan pepper sting. The Bathtub leans into spiced tequila and passionfruit, finished with a coriander air. And by dessert, the Tirretti Bazaar and Mango Sticky Rice—pandan gin, meeting wasabi and mishti doi on one hand, a rum-and-condensed-milk dessert-in-a-glass on the other—turn the bar menu into its own tasting course.
It’s a smart way to structure a bar menu by where you are in the meal, so even someone who skips the harder pours ends up ordering something that fits the moment.
