Lesson 5: Wanting, Ordering & Eating Out

___ ga hoshii desu. — “I want ___.” (things — and only your wants)

hoshii — want (a thing) — takes ga, a new particle that marks what the wanting points at. Two rules, both about register: first person only — never ask someone hoshii desu ka (offers work differently; see the dou frame below) — and not at the point of sale: when money is changing hands, use kudasai / onegaishimasu. Hoshii is for telling your companion what you feel like.

Mizu ga hoshii desu.

mizu — water. (In restaurants it’s free — see “How to behave.”)

Ocha ga hoshii desu.

ocha — (green) tea. Usually free, like restaurant water.

Gohan ga hoshii desu.

gohan — rice, and by extension a meal. This sentence is the traveler’s “I’m hungry.”

Mizu, onegaishimasu.

And the register rule in action: the want was for your companion; the request — to staff — rides on Lesson 1’s onegaishimasu.

[verb]-tai desu. — “I want to [verb].” (first person only)

Wanting to do something has its own frame. First, two verbs you’ll use at every meal — complete sentences on their own, like every -masu verb:

Tabemasu.

tabemasu — eat.

Nomimasu.

nomimasu — drink.

Ocha o nomimasu.

Objects ride o, exactly as they did with kudasai. Now the frame: swap -masu for -tai desu and the verb becomes a want.

Tabetai desu.

tabemasu → tabetai desu. One swap, no exceptions. (Nomitai desu works identically, and ikitai — “want to go” — arrives with its verb in Lesson 6.)

Sushi ga tabetai desu.

sushi — you know this word; now it’s officially yours. ga marks the target of the want, same as with hoshii.

Biiru wa arimasu ka.

biiru — beer (mind the long vowel — Lesson 0’s building/beer pair). The recycle: your want to drink becomes Lesson 4’s frame when you’re actually asking the shop.

___ ga ii desu. — “___ is good (for me).” (answering a choice)

ii — good/okay — the little word hiding inside Lesson 3’s Kaado, ii desu ka. With ga, it states a preference: gentler than a demand, and built for answering a choice someone has just offered you.

Kore ga ii desu.

When someone puts options in front of you — meat or fish?, window or aisle?, which one? — this is the answer. Ordering from scratch is still kudasai / onegaishimasu.

Sakana ga ii desu.

sakana — fish. This is the answer when the server asks meat or fish? — to order it cold, off a menu, it’s Sakana, onegaishimasu.

Ocha ga ii desu.

The sold-out recovery: when your first choice fails, name a second with ga ii desu. (It’s the move that saves dinner when the kitchen is out of your first pick.) ii’s antonym is warui — bad — mostly for weather and luck; you’ll rarely need it about food.

___ onegaishimasu. — “___, please.” (services & requests)

Lesson 1’s all-purpose please, now official as a frame: put any noun in front of it and you’ve politely requested that thing or service. It’s kudasai’s twin, but not its equal, and the difference is worth memorizing. kudasai means “please give me,” so it needs something that can be put in your hand. onegaishimasu means “please handle this,” and it takes anything — a service (Okaikei onegaishimasu, the check), a destination, a stretch of time. There is no kudasai version of those: nobody can hand you a check-in.

So the two overlap only in one place — ordering a thing at a counter, where either works. Outside that, onegaishimasu is the one that never runs out of room. When you are not sure, reach for onegaishimasu; when you are pointing and counting, reach for kudasai.

Koohii onegaishimasu.

koohii — coffee (two long vowels, as drilled in Lesson 0). The entire cafe transaction.

Kore, onegaishimasu.

Old friend from Lesson 2 — it was this frame all along. (Destinations — “to the station, please” — join in Lesson 6.)

___ wa dou desu ka. — “How about ___? / How is ___?”

dou — how — and not one other new word: this frame is built entirely from parts you own. It does two jobs: offering (the polite way to ask what hoshii must never ask) and asking opinions.

Koohii wa dou desu ka.

This is how you ask someone what they want — offer a thing, let them accept or decline. (Hai, onegaishimasu. / Iie, daijoubu desu. — the Lesson 1 pair answers it perfectly.)

Dou desu ka.

Bare, it asks for an opinion of whatever’s in front of you.

Oishii desu.

oishii — delicious — the answer you’ll give most, and the single best word to say to anyone who feeds you. (Its antonym mazui — tastes bad — exists for your ears; saying it about food someone served you is a small act of war.)

Ramen wa dou desu ka.

ramen — from Lesson 0’s rhythm drills to a real dinner proposal.

The hard English idea: “I’ll have the bread and eggs, and also a beer.” Clause glue everywhere. The MiniCore move: two tiny particles — to joins nouns inside one order, mo adds another order on top. No new frames needed; they slot into the ones you have.

Pan to tamago o kudasai.

to — and (between nouns only). pan — bread; tamago — egg (your Lesson 0 metronome word, finally on a plate). Chain as many as you like: X to Y to Z o kudasai.

Kore mo kudasai.

mo — also/too. It replaces wa or o: kore mo, never “kore o mo.”

Biiru mo onegaishimasu.

mo rides any request frame. Order, remember one more thing, mo it on.

Niku to yasai o kudasai.

niku — meat; yasai — vegetables. With to, mo, and pointing, a table of four is no harder than ordering for one.

kudamono — fruit (famously beautiful and famously pricey in Japan).

Kore o kaimasu.

kaimasu — buy — verb number five, same -masu shape as always.

Menyuu o mimasu.

mimasu — see/look at — and menyuu — menu. (Mimasu is the polite living form of the miru frozen inside Lesson 3’s miru dake desu.)

Sushi wa ikura desu ka.

Lesson 3’s price frame, aimed at a restaurant menu.

Mizu wa daijoubu desu.

The polite decline, aimed at the endless free refills.

Hitori desu.

hitori — one person. Solo dining is common and completely unremarkable in Japan — counter seats exist for exactly this.

Atsui desu!

atsui — hot to the touch. The word your first takoyaki teaches you the hard way.

Tsumetai desu.

tsumetai — cold to the touch (the beer, the oshibori in summer). Pair: atsui/tsumetai.

First words after sitting down.

Eigo no menyuu wa arimasu ka.

Worth asking before you wrestle the Japanese one — tourist-area restaurants very often have an English menu, and the question costs four words you already own (Lesson 4’s arimasu ka, Lesson 2’s no). If the answer is arimasen, Kore to kore o kudasai and Osusume wa nan desu ka work on any menu in the country.

Kore to kore o kudasai.

The point-and-order sentence. With a menu in front of you, it renders most food vocabulary optional — which is exactly why this course can stay small.

Osusume wa nan desu ka.

osusume — the house recommendation, and arguably the most useful noun in Japanese dining. Menus run long, handwritten, and untranslated; this question hands the decision to the person who knows, and the answer usually comes with a pointing finger you can follow.

Osusume, onegaishimasu.

And when you’d rather skip the menu entirely: order the recommendation itself. It works in any restaurant in the country, it needs no food vocabulary at all, and kitchens quietly love the customer who asks for it.

Futari desu.

futari — two people. The answer to the door question nan-mei sama desu ka (“how many people?” — one you catch by ear). Among the most-said traveler sentences in Japan.

San-nin desu.

san-nin — three people. From here the people-word is just number + -nin…

Yo-nin desu.

yo-nin — four people — never “yon-nin”; it’s the same yo- that four o’clock will use in Lesson 6 (yo-ji). Beyond four: fingers up, palm out, desu. The door question never needs more than this.

Okaikei onegaishimasu.

okaikei — the bill. Say it to any staff member; then pay at the front register (see “How to behave”).

Itadakimasu.

itadakimasu — said quietly just before eating, to no one and everyone: gratitude for the meal about to happen. Hands together is optional; saying it is not really. It pairs with the next sentence the way douzo pairs with doumo — one opens the meal, one closes it.

Gochisousama deshita.

gochisousama deshita — the closing bow of every meal, said to no one and everyone as you leave. Remember Lesson 1: no tipping, ever — this sentence is the tip, and it’s worth more than money to the people who cooked.