How to Eat Like a Local in Japan: 12 Chopstick and Other Rules No One Tells You

At my first group meal in Japan, I knew the rules were different—I just didn’t know how different. Out of caution, I watched everyone closely. We all had our own beautiful kaiseki sets, but... no one was eating. Eventually, one brave soul took a bite, and I followed. Big mistake. Turns out, there was a pre-meal speech. He got scolded. I wanted to vanish.

Everyone forgave us, but that moment stuck with me.

The thing about Japanese table manners is—there are a lot of them. Some depend on the setting. Some depend on who you're with. Even my mother-in-law, when I asked for help with this post, said, “There are too many rules—I can’t remember them all.”

Below are 12 important table manner rules and other etiquette that will guide you through your stay in Japan.  So, let’s start with the basics–especially the ones that’ll get you side-eyed real fast.

1. Do not use your chopsticks to pass food to each other.

(Faux Pas)

During a traditional Japanese funeral, after cremation, family and friends of the deceased use chopsticks to remove the remaining bones. It’s usually done in pairs—two people using chopsticks together to pick up a bone and place it into a special urn called a kotsutsubo (骨壺).

This moment is deeply emotional, and the image is seared into the memory of nearly every Japanese person. Many experience it for the first time when they’re still very young. So when someone passes something from one set of chopsticks to another at the dinner table, it’s not just “impolite”—it can stir a vivid memory of loss.

Please take heed. I’ve made this mistake once. Nothing kills the mood at a dinner table quite like that. That’s why it’s the first rule on this list. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

2. Do not stab your rice with the chopsticks

(Faux Pas)

Photo by Dee. on Unsplash

Are we still talking about stuff done at funerals?
Yes. And this one is a big deal.

First, rice with chopsticks stuck straight up in it has a name: makura-meshi (枕飯), which literally means “pillow rice.” This dish is not for the living—it is a sacred offering for the deceased.

It’s a bowl of white rice, rounded at the top, with chopsticks stabbed vertically into the center. During the wake, the body is washed and dressed to be visited by close friends and family the night before the funeral and cremation. The bowl of rice is placed near the head of the deceased and represents a final meal for the spirit before they depart.

The imagery surrounding death is vivid and unforgettable. Because Japanese families are often closely involved in these rituals, many children witness this firsthand—often when a grandparent passes away. These symbols become deeply tied to personal grief and cultural memory.

Now, let’s say you’re not eating with any Japanese people.
I’d still urge caution. As a foreigner in Japan, you will be observed—sometimes out of curiosity, sometimes out of expectation. So please be mindful of your actions, especially with something as symbolically loaded as chopsticks.

*The Funeral Faux Pas*

There are two chopstick taboos that hit especially hard in Japan: passing food from one set of chopsticks to another, and sticking your chopsticks upright in a bowl of rice. Both echo funeral rituals—and not in a subtle way. If you remember nothing else from this list, remember those.

3. Don’t stab food.

(Faux Pas)

Here’s the thing—you’re probably going to struggle with chopsticks at some point. Especially the cheap, slippery plastic ones.
What’s the problem? Well, traditional Japanese chopstick form is a hand workout. That muscle between your thumb and index finger? It’s going to burn like you’ve been doing thumb workouts all day.

Eventually, you might think, “Forget this—I’ll just stab that piece of chicken and move on with my life.”
Resist the urge.

It’s not the most serious offense in the world, but it comes across as clumsy, childish, or just plain lazy. And in a culture that values subtlety and grace at the table, that little stab might earn you a quiet side-eye from across the room.

So yeah—stabby chopsticks? Not the move.

4. Don’t rub the chopsticks—you’re about to eat, not start a fire.

(Faux Pas)

Back in the States, whenever I went to a restaurant that offered chopsticks, I’d grab a pack, snap them open like a pro, and then rub them together to remove any splinters. You know, to show off my “know-how.”

Don’t do that in Japan.
Why? Because that little gesture—harmless as it might seem—sends a message. And that message is:

“These chopsticks are cheap trash.”

In Japan, even disposable chopsticks (waribashi) are expected to be decent quality—especially at sit-down restaurants. Rubbing them together implies the restaurant is low-class or careless, and that’s seen as a subtle insult to the chef, staff, or host. You may not mean it that way, but in a culture that values indirect communication, intent matters less than appearance.

There’s another article I’ve written that goes deeper into the subtle ways people communicate in Japan—you can check that out here. But to summarize:

People here often avoid direct confrontation, so small gestures take on big meaning.

If no one says anything, it doesn’t mean no one noticed. It just means they’re being polite about it.

So yeah. No chopstick fire-starting.

You wouldn’t want to rub them the wrong way...

Okay, sorry. Let’s move on.

5. Don’t pour your own drinks.

(Polite Manners)

Let’s say you’re at the table with your Japanese friend. You’ve managed to avoid the major faux pas so far—no chopstick crimes, no phantom fires. All is well. But then you notice something odd: your buddy’s glass is empty… yet they’re not reaching for the pitcher.

You wonder: Are they not drinking?
The answer? No—they are. They’re just waiting on you.

In Japan, the culture revolves around wa (和), which translates loosely to “harmony.” It’s a core value that shows up in everything from how people sort their trash (there’s an article about that if you’re curious) to how they move through public spaces. The idea is simple: think of others before yourself, and society flows better.

That sense of mutual awareness applies at the dinner table too. How you eat reflects how you live. And one of the most telling moments is when drinks are involved.

In Japan, it’s considered good manners to pour drinks for others rather than for yourself. It’s not just etiquette—it’s a quiet signal that says, “I see you. I’m with you. I’m paying attention.” People will likely be watching your glass too, ready to top you off when it's low.

This isn’t just about being nice—it’s a cultural ritual of humility and respect. In business settings, for example, younger employees often pour drinks for their seniors. Whether the boss pours back depends on the relationship (and maybe how many drinks they've had).

More than anything, this gesture is a reminder: you’re not alone.

Oh—and yes, there’s a right way to pour:

• Use two hands to hold the bottle—especially if the person is older or in a higher position than you.

• Don’t let the bottle touch the rim of their glass.

• Once you’ve poured, they might return the favor. Just lift your glass slightly in thanks—a quiet toast without words.

So remember: in Japan, don’t pour one for yourself. Pour one for someone else. It’s not just good manners—it’s a shared language.

Side note: This custom especially applies to alcoholic drinks, but you’ll often see it with non-alcoholic ones too. And no, you don’t always have to physically pour the drink—more often, you’ll just order another round.

6. The Oshibori

(Faux Pas)

The oshibori is the cloth given to you alongside your chopsticks when you sit down at a table. It’s a courtesy item—meant to help you clean your hands and mentally shift into mealtime mode.

Depending on the season and the restaurant, you’ll get either a disposable or a reusable one. The reusables look like small white hand towels. On hot days, they’re refreshingly chilled. On cold days, they’re served warm and steamy. Either way, they feel amazing on your hands.

And that’s when it happens.

You’ll feel it: the powerful urge—especially on humid summer days—to take that crisp, cool towel and wipe it all over your sweaty face and neck.

I have three words for you:

Resist. The. Urge.

The oshibori is for your hands. It is not an invitation for a midday shower. Sure, you might catch someone doing it—especially in a casual spot—but know this: they’re bending a social norm, and they know it.

Another common mistake? Using it as a napkin. Don’t. The oshibori is not for your mouth either. Its job is to clean your hands. That’s it.

If you’re handed a reusable towel, don’t toss it out or treat it carelessly. After using it, fold it neatly and set it aside. Keep it on standby in case you need to wipe a bit of oil or sauce from your fingers.

This isn’t a rule about rudeness—it’s more about grace. Think of it this way: it’s like being invited to someone’s home, and instead of washing your hands in the bathroom, you take a shower in their sink. No one’s going to stop you… but they’ll definitely judge you in silence.

7. Sakasabashi – The Great Chopstick Flip Debate

(Gray Area)

In Japan, food is often served communally. Order some karaage with friends, and it’ll come stacked on a single plate — not individually portioned. Someone from the group usually portions them onto plates or passes them out to everyone. That goes for most dishes, except for rice, soups, desserts, and a few other solo acts.

At restaurants, there are usually dedicated serving utensils. But what if there aren’t any?

One workaround is sakasabashi (逆さ箸) — using the blunt ends of your own chopsticks to pick up food from a shared plate. The logic: it’s more hygienic, since those ends haven’t been in your mouth. Simple, right?

Well… not quite.

Here’s where the etiquette waters get murky. Some people say this is thoughtful. Others say it’s casual and bad form — even bordering on taboo in certain situations (especially formal ones or older generations). The inconsistency makes it one of those unwritten rules.

Personally, I was taught that using the back ends of my chopsticks would impress Japanese people — like I’d unlocked a secret etiquette level. And honestly? It worked. At drinking parties, work dinners, even meetings with bosses or clients — I’d flip my chopsticks, grab a juicy piece of karaage, and get the promised “Oohs” and “Aahs.”

But the nuance is simple: context is everything.

If you’re out at a picnic or a super casual meal and there’s no serving spoon? Sure, flip those chopsticks. It’s not ideal, but it’s the lesser of two evils. The other being, use the end that had been in your mouth..

If you’re in a restaurant, though, serving utensils will almost always be provided. Use them.
And if you’re having a kaiseki course or anything remotely formal? Don’t even think about it.

8. A three-in-one special: Touch it and it’s yours, no treasure-hunting, and please—decide before you dive in.

(Polite Manners, Hygienic, Faux Pas)

The downside to communal eating is twofold. First, it’s a race against time. If you grew up in a big family, you know what I’m talking about—hesitate and all the good stuff is gone. Second, you’re stuck trying to figure out what to eat next, only to realize the best piece is buried under five others.

Here are a few things to keep in mind: in a culture where subtlety and nonverbal cues matter you don’t want your body language to scream greedy tourist. So don’t go digging through the dish or rearranging things with your chopsticks. Just enjoy what’s on top. God willing, it won’t be your last time eating karaage.

Next, don’t touch something and then put it back like you’re at a self-serve buffet. It’s unhygienic, and frankly, it grosses people out.

Finally, be a little more decisive. If you're hovering indecisively above the food, not only are you blocking access for others—you’re also breathing over the whole plate. It’s a bad look.

9. Easy with the sauces on your white rice.

(Polite Manner)

Soy sauce is Japan’s liquid gold. Every restaurant you go to will have it tableside the way most diners in the States have salt and pepper ready to go. Soy sauce is salty and umami-rich. But here’s the thing: soy sauce is a seasoning—not a free-for-all condiment like ketchup at a burger joint.

One of the most common (and most quietly judged) mistakes tourists make is dumping soy sauce directly on their rice.

Now, I get it. I really do. When I first came to Japan, plain white rice tasted... well, plain. My taste buds were screaming for something—anything—to liven it up. But here’s the thing: that simplicity is the point.

Not every bite needs to punch you in the face with flavor. Sometimes, your mouth needs a break. White rice acts like a palate cleanser—a soft, slightly sweet reset button between bites of grilled fish, pickles, or whatever flavor bomb just hit you. It’s there to support the meal, not compete with it.

In Japan, rice is meant to be enjoyed as is. Splashing soy sauce all over it doesn’t just overwhelm the balance—it’s like telling the chef, “Nice try, but I’ll handle the flavoring from here.” That’s not the message you want to send to your host, your chef, or anyone’s grandma.

This doesn’t just apply to rice. Dousing sushi in soy sauce or soaking your sashimi like it’s a sponge? Same deal. You don’t want the chef to think he didn’t season the food to your liking.

A few quick rules of thumb:

• Don’t pour soy sauce directly on your rice.

• Don’t flood your dipping dish either—just a little goes a long way.

• When dipping sushi, go fish-side down (not rice-side) to avoid it falling apart and soaking up too much sauce.

• Don’t mix wasabi and soy sauce at higher-end sushi restaurants—the chef already adds wasabi under the fish. At casual spots? Go wild.

In short: understand the balance, and trust the chef.

10. Where (and where not) to put your chopsticks

(Polite Manners)

When you sit down for a meal in Japan, you’ll usually receive one of two kinds of chopsticks: the nicer, reusable kind or the disposable wooden ones. Surprisingly, many people prefer the disposable type—not because they’re cheap, but because they’re brand new and hygienic.

Now, we’ve already covered the major chopstick crimes—no sticking them upright in your rice (that's a funeral thing), and no passing food from chopstick to chopstick (also funeral-adjacent). But here’s another detail that often trips people up: where to place your chopsticks when you’re not using them.

Resting your chopsticks across the rim of your bowl might seem convenient, but it’s not  great form. Depending on who you ask, it can signal that you're finished eating, that you're being a little sloppy, or that you're ignoring the proper etiquette altogether.

Instead, look for a hashioki (chopstick rest), which is usually provided when using reusable chopsticks. If you’re given disposable chopsticks, they’ll usually come wrapped in sturdy paper—and you can fold that paper into a little stand. It’s not just practical; it shows attention to detail and respect for the meal.

Bottom line? Don’t let your chopsticks flop around or camp out on your dishes. Give them a proper home between bites.

11. Don’t Start Eating Before Everyone’s Ready

(Polite Mannerism—but context-dependent)

When you’re dining in Japan, especially in a group setting, one of the most respectful things you can do is wait until everyone has their food. Naturally, context matters—there are plenty of casual situations where no one expects you to wait. But in group meals, the signal to start eating is usually someone saying “itadakimasu” (“I humbly receive”), or in the case of company nomikai (drinking parties), the cue is often “kanpai” (cheers).

This expectation to wait is especially strong in:

• Formal meals

• Company dinners

• Meals with elders or guests

• Traditional Japanese restaurants (like kaiseki)

Casual is casual: in ramen shops, food courts, or quick lunches with friends, it’s fine to start eating right away—most Japanese people do. Some restaurants, like izakaya or touchscreen-order spots, serve dishes one by one, so everyone digs in as food arrives.

But if the occasion itself is formal—even in a casual venue—wait for everyone’s food and the signal to start.

When in doubt, pause and follow the lead of the locals. Waiting those extra seconds might save you from an awkward moment—or a gentle scolding from a Japanese grandma.

12. Don’t hold your chopsticks while doing other things, and don’t use them to move things other than food.

(Polite Manners)

During a Japanese meal, there’s often a lot going on—side dishes, sauces, plates that need shifting, and drinks to grab. It might seem like a hassle to put your chopsticks down on the hashioki (chopstick rest) every time you reach for something, especially since getting them set just right in your hand can take a moment.

But resist the urge to multitask with your chopsticks. Using them to slide a plate closer, adjust a dish, or hold while you pour a drink is considered poor form. In Japan, chopsticks are strictly for eating—not for pointing, gesturing, or rearranging the table.

When you need to move something, put your chopsticks down first. The only thing you should be holding while eating with chopsticks is the bowl or plate you’re currently enjoying.

Final Thoughts

The list above only scratches the surface. Japanese dining etiquette runs deep, and many of these rules are so ingrained that even my Japanese friends didn’t realize some of them were “rules” until I pointed them out—they follow them without thinking.

Two final takeaways:

• You’ll see plenty of people bending or ignoring these rules—and that’s okay. Still, I recommend trying your best to follow them, especially the major ones. In public settings, especially in rural areas where tourists stand out more, people will notice.

• Everything on the table has a purpose. Understanding that purpose makes it easier to follow the etiquette. And if you’re dining with Japanese friends, don’t stress too much. They know the rules can be overwhelming, and no one expects a foreigner to get everything exactly right. Remember the big ones, and you’ll be fine.