Tokyo Eats: Japanese Curry (Oroji 王ろじ)

When the hot bowl of luxurious Japanese-style curry topped with tender and crispy pieces of fried pork is placed in front of you, you have no choice but to eat in reverent silence. The curry sauce is deeply savory, aromatic, and perfectly balanced. Tender and juicy pork enrobed in a crispy-crunchy breading. Even the rice itself is delicious — perfectly toothsome pearls. In the absence of any music, the only disruption to the delicious reverent silence is the heavenly crackling sound of the pork frying and the near-constant sound of the server-hostess-chef-cashier woman yelling "Irasshaimase" (welcome in) and "arigato gozaimasu" (thank you) in that rather adorable, singsongy, almost cartoonish voice used in Japanese businesses.

Japanese curry is quite different from Indian or Thai curry. It's actually based off of British curry, which is based off of Indian curry, brought to Japan by the British during the Meiji Restoration. In line with the signature Japanese flavor profile, Japanese curry is somehow delicate but intensely savory, umami, and brilliantly balanced between sweet and salty. Curry is a dish often prepared at home, as I am continually reminded by the tortuous aroma emanating from my neighbor's window several times a week. For home cooking, it's typically prepared with curry roux cubes, which can be found in most every supermarket.

Japan seems to thrive on obsessing over *one* thing. And nothing is too small or insignificant. Just the other day I strolled past a shop right in central Tokyo that only sold masking tape — tape in all colors and designs neatly arranged and taking up only 1/64th of the available space in the store.

Single origin coffee, single origin chocolate, abundant varieties of rice from different prefectures, seasonal foods, regional specialties, the list could go on and on. With the staggering abundance of restaurants and readily available prepared foods, restaurants in Tokyo often end up focusing on just one main dish. This dish is made and improved upon for years or even decades. When you visit these sorts of restaurants, get the main dish. You don't need to exercise your free will here. Seriously. The chef knows better than you. The chefs at these restaurants become experts on that one dish, perfecting it.

Oroji is a poster child for doing one thing and doing it well. The main dish is katsu curry カツカレー which consists of tonkatsu (a breaded and deep fried pork cutlet) and a rich and thick curry over rice. The restaurant calls the dish "tondon," a shortened and smashed together version of "tonkatsu donburi," a common phenomenon in the Japanese language that I have affectionally termed a chopstickerism. There might be a line when you arrive, but you'll soon come to consider it an honor to wait in line in Japan — it's just proof of the great food on the other side of that line. No need to look at a menu, just request "tondon, onegaishimasu." They bring you green tea and some pickles to enjoy while you wait for pure heaven in a bowl to make its way to your table.

You'll find this restaurant on a quiet street just outside of the neon-lit chaos that characterizes the rest of Shinjuku.