Learning to Love Tonkatsu at Yabu: House of Katsu

I never order pork at restaurants and I have a passionate loathing for Megamall, so the last place you’d expect me to be is at the queue for a table at Yabu: House of Katsu in Megamall Atrium. Yet there I was, my stomach grumbling and my mouth watering, dying to sink my teeth into one of Yabu’s delectable katsu sets. My first visit to the restaurant happened upon the insistence of a friend, a fellow non-pork lover who told me it was very similar to a dish she tried in Korea. The pork tenderloin katsudon, she said, is so soft as to be un-porklike, and the rich tonkatsu sauce that comes with it is good enough to eat on its own. When I bit into the crispy goodness of my Hire tonaktsu, I became an instant convert of the cult of Yabu, and have braved the Megamall crowd to dine at the restaurant twice since then.

Yabu: House of Katsu opened their doors in October 2011, right when the katsu craze had Manila foodies craving for the crunch of fried pork cutlets. Unlike other restaurants, however, Yabu doesn’t serve breaded pork chop pretending to be Japanese. Their katsu products are authentic and includes an ultra-soft Kurobata katsu made from the “wagyu beef of pork”. But even the katsu made from local pork is so tender and perfectly fried with Yabu’s homemade panko breading that the quality is said to be comparable to Japan’s best tonkatsu restaurants.

Last week, Yabu successfully converted another non-pork eating diner – my mom. She’s probably the only person in the family who dislikes pork more than I do, not to mention that she doesn’t like eating out for fear of getting fat. I managed to convince her by swearing that this was the best pork I have ever tried, and if she doesn’t feel like eating tonkatsu, there’s always the seafood menu to choose from.

We started our meal with two appetizers – edameme, or lightly salted young soybeads still in the pod, and Hiyayakko tofu, silken tofu sitting in a puddle of tangy ponzu sauce and sprinkled with bonito flakes. The appetizers were barely enough to sate my grumbling stomach, but that was fine. I was reserving some room for the katsu feast that was to come.

A small textured bowl of sesame seeds with a pestle kept us busy while we waited for our meal to arrive. The idea is to grind the sesame seeds until they give off a rich, nutty aroma, then pour tonkatsu sauce into the bowl and use it as a dip for your katsu. Next to eating, grinding the sesame seeds is the most enjoyable part of the Yabu experience. Something about the act of swirling the pestle and watching the seeds turn into crumbs gives me a zen-like feeling of satisfaction.

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