This week’s lunchtime expedition led us to the delightfully bizarre “Tonkatsu Ebisu-an” in Takefu. Imagine a building with boxes on the walls that look suspiciously like birdhouses—yes, that’s your welcome mat. I’d been intrigued for ages but never actually stepped through its eccentric threshold. Until now.
Our resident tonkatsu connoisseur, Toru, had already been twice. He insists it’s the finest pork cutlet joint in the entire prefecture. So, off we went—making this our second back-to-back tonkatsu-themed lunch meeting. Coincidence? Destiny? Deep-fried fate?
The interior? Just as theatrical as the outside. A fever dream from the Showa era, peppered with curious knickknacks and charm galore. Books—oodles of them—sprawled across shelves in wild variety. Somehow, even the least bookish of souls might be tempted to pick one up.
Behold—the sacred menu scroll.
In a moment of indecisive brilliance, I went for the “Taste Comparison Set”—because why have one kind of cutlet when you can revel in two?
The table itself offered endless amusement. A DIY salt grinder. A battalion of condiments. And a teapot that seemed to whisper stories of distant lands. The tea—likely oolong—was mellow and satisfying. It was less of a drink and more of a culinary hug.
And then—it arrived. The legendary Taste Comparison Set!
The rice? Glossy and glorious. The tonkatsu? Soft as a sonnet. Despite their heroic thickness, each cutlet was cooked through perfectly. And the pale hue of the batter? Likely the result of low-temp frying—an artisanal touch. Loin or tenderloin, each bite was a standing ovation.
As for the salad dressing—plot twist—it’s a self-service gig. Head to the shelf in the middle of the room and choose your own bottle of destiny. Balsamic? Sesame? Mystery flavor #4? The choice is yours.
My wife, equally dazzled, started speculating about the chef’s mysterious background. A Michelin-starred maestro, perhaps? Turns out—nope. The menu spills the truth: former gigs include Sagawa Express and “Tonkatsu Katsuyoshi.” Ah, trained in the sacred halls of Katsuyoshi! No wonder the cutlets sing.
Customers streamed in nonstop, reinforcing the obvious—Ebisu-an is no hidden gem. It’s a shining beacon. One elderly gentleman watched TV and lounged like he was in his own living room. That’s the vibe here. Homey, hearty, and slightly surreal.
Fin.
“The world is a book and those who do not travel eat only one cutlet.” — Saint Augustine, probably
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