‘Perfect golden, crisp finish’: Katsumo will satisfy your cravings for killer katsu

Why would a chef with fine-dining expertise across French, Italian and Japanese cuisines open a tiny restaurant in a not-very-foodie suburb serving just one dish? For Jaejun Kim, the answer is simple. He loves tonkatsu. As a child in Korea, eating the Japanese-style crumbed pork fillet always made him happy. He later travelled around Japan, seeking it out.

After Kim moved to Australia in 2014, tonkatsu remained a key comfort food as he worked his way up to sous chef over five years at Neil Perry’s since-closed Rosetta, and later became head chef at two-hatted Kazuki’s in Carlton.

But there was a problem. Kim didn’t believe there were enough good renditions of tonkatsu in Melbourne restaurants, and the deep-fried dish isn’t something he wanted to make at home. “I can’t be the only one thinking this,” he thought. Katsumo is his gamble that other people are also coping with cravings for killer tonkatsu, and that they’ll be prepared to go 10 kilometres south-east of the city to get their fix.

Since he opened the simple 25-seat eatery last August, his hunch has been vindicated. Kim’s limited supply of tonkatsu often sells out and if you want to be assured of your rations, you’re advised to go early because he doesn’t take bookings. That come-and-try approach suits the casual nature of the eatery, and the moderate price point, but the obsessive dedication to craft is at fine-dining level.

Kim buys whole pork loins and butchers them into “premium” cuts at the front end, and “signature” cuts towards the rump that are slightly less tender. He uses two different breadcrumbs in a specific ratio to create a texture that’s somehow both fragile and dense, then fries the cutlets in hot oil that’s monitored assiduously to attain the perfect golden, crisp finish.

The pork is rested to relax the fibres, then briefly oven-baked to warm it and frighten off any greasy residue. It’s then sliced and served on a wire rack with four condiments, teeny dollops of mustard, citrusy yuzu-kosho and wasabi, plus a house-made tonkatsu sauce that straddles sweet and tart. Build your meat into a meal and it comes on a tray with cabbage shredded to featherlight strands dressed with silky cooked carrot sauce, plus rice, miso soup and a scoop of potato salad.

Sometimes you know a chef is working hard but the effort doesn’t pay off. This does: these dishes are a satisfying exemplar of exquisite craft.

There are variations: you can have beef, chicken or prawn instead of pork, or you can have your pork loin stuffed with mozzarella in a too-much-is-never-enough stretchy wonder.

Pork trim is used to make menchi (meatballs), and is slow-braised in a Japanese curry of arresting depth: layers of spice, an umami punch from tomato, it’s all there.

A short drinks list includes sake or beer, both great accompaniments for tonkatsu. It’s fun to have a 90-millilitre “masu” serve of sake, which means a small glass resting in a square box is over-filled, showing generosity but also suggesting nothing needs to be taken too seriously. There’s no wrong way to drink it.

Tonkatsu is a 19th-century Japanese interpretation of a French veal schnitzel, taking the heft of the European dish and giving it a tempura lightness by using flaky panko crumbs and deep-frying rather than pan-cooking.

As often happens in Japan, this dish has been obsessed over endlessly, with some pork now bred especially to achieve a tonkatsu-specific quivering tenderness. We don’t quite reach that level here and, honestly, I’m glad. Melbourne restaurants do so well in bringing the world to us that sometimes it’s a relief to realise there are still dishes to travel for. Until your next tonkatsu trip to Tokyo, though, Katsumo makes a journey to Glen Huntly a very appealing prospect indeed.

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