I love the little details. Finding small things about a place that other people might not notice or appreciate is one of my favorite things to do. This is something that has become more important to me as I get older, and I am thankful for it. When we went to Kyoto a few weeks ago, we visited Nijo Castle. My favorite part of the entire visit was finding little embellishments on the huge doors at the castle.
It’s the little things that inspire me, give an unexpected tingle of joy in my chest and an extra bounce in my step.
I experienced the same feeling when we were at the tonkatsu restaurant. From the lantern hanging outside to the simple kitchen utensils (mostly chopsticks, knives, pots and pans). It seems hilarious to even come close to comparing a tonkatsu restaurant to Nijo Castle, but somehow it works in this situations.
When I poked my head into the small restaurant, I knew it was special. I just didn’t realize how special.
One of the first things I saw being made behind the counter was a kind of rolled tonkatsu. They pounded out a piece of pork until it was very thin. Then, almost like a saltimbocca, a layer of cheese and shiso leaves. After rolling, breading, and frying the pork, it is carefully sliced at an angle and placed on the plate. The plating was my favorite part of the whole process. The man stood behind the counter, looking at the plate at eye-level, while meticulously placing each roll on the plate. Sometimes this can come off as being pretentious, but he made it look like the most important and cared-for plate he had ever put together.
One of the most amazing things was how our bill was totalled at the end of the night. Instead of using a calculator or a register, the woman used an abacus. Yep. An abacus (more specifically a soroban). According to the regulars, that usually means your total at the end of the night could be almost anything. Still, it is interesting to watch. Here is a short video about soroban/abacus use in Tokyo: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wIiDomlEjJw
The last, and probably most amazing, detail of the restaurant was the wooden stump used to pound and prepare the pork.
For the 40 or so years this couple has been running the restaurant, this wooden stump has been with them. Who knows how many pork cutlets have been tenderised on its surface. Not a scrap of meat is wasted. Even the tiny pieces that are trimmed off the sides to create a perfectly uniform cutlet are pounded very thinly on the wood, then pounded into the original piece of pork.
The dark wood has remained intact through it all and is testament to the sturdy, unwavering love that can be found sitting inside this tiny place.
