If you’re familiar with Japanese cuisine, you’ll be no stranger to the hearty katsu karē. It consists of a thick and rich Japanese curry, short-grain rice and a hefty piece of katsu (breaded and fried meat, usually pork).
Oddly enough, this is one of those dishes that is not thought of as washoku (Japanese food), but as yōshoku (Western-Japanese fusion), despite its distinctly non-Western origins. Those origins are somewhat disputed, though, with three separate restaurants in Tokyo laying claim to the dish — one of which is Ginza Swiss.
Ginza Swiss
If you call this concoction “katsu karē,” and not the monikers preferred by the other claimants to the throne, you can certainly thank Ginza Swiss for the name.
Headed by third-generation owner, Akemi Fujioka, 60, the restaurant is in its third iteration in Ginza Ni-chome. From Yurakucho Station, it’s a short walk past the high-rise buildings of the trendy luxury shopping district. A right turn after the likes of Diesel and Max Mara, brings me to a quaint white-and-red awning, like something above a family-owned French bistro. Atop some steps, a bright yet simple stained-glass door bears the words “Grill Swiss” at the top.
Even from the street, Ginza Swiss exudes a quaint sort of charm that’s hard to find in the glitzy Ginza shopping district.
| CASSANDRA LORD
The atmosphere when I step inside is a mixture of Showa-style home comforts and a certain chic modernity. It makes sense, as this location opened just three years ago but imported many elements from its former locations — the first one dating back to 1947.
“Even as we change the location and change the building, there are customers who have continued to visit us for almost as long as we’ve been going,” says Fujioka. “There are people who would visit us with their children, and now their children are married and bring their own children.”
Fujioka gestures to the chairs we’re sitting on in the restaurant’s alcove and tells me that these are from Ginza Swiss’ original location. That storefront in the Ginza Nana-chome neighborhood was established by Shinnosuke Okada in 1947 with the idea of making Western cuisine available to the public, rather than just the elites he had previously served. On its opening, the restaurant served many yōshoku dishes that have since become classics and that you can still find on Ginza Swiss’ menu today, including gratin and hambāgu (Hamburg steak). Fujioka says the team prides themselves on maintaining the traditions and flavors in the restaurant’s wide variety of yōshoku offerings.
But it wasn’t until 1948 that katsu karē made its way onto the scene. Fujioka recounts the story: Renowned Yomiuri Giants baseball player and frequent customer, Shigeru Chiba (1919-2002), came for a meal. He wanted a lot, and he wanted it fast, so he asked for his two favorite items to be served together: pork katsu on curry. The filling meal was a hit and was instantly put on the menu for all of Ginza Swiss’ customers.
Ginza Swiss first opened in 1947 as an affordable way for regular Japanese diners to enjoy emerging ‘yōshoku’ (Western-Japanese fusion) dishes.
| COURTESY OF GINZA SWISS
While Ginza Swiss may have a uniquely interesting story behind its claim as the creator of katsu karē, the restaurant is not alone. Two other contenders, Kawakin (located in the Asakusa neighborhood) and Oroji (located in Shinjuku’s San-chome neighborhood) assert claims (stemming from 1918 and 1921, respectively) that predate Ginza Swiss’ 1948 story.
I mention this to Fujioka, and she says, “I have no problem with that. No one has any proof, and we’ve never once fought over it. Each place has its own style, so there are people who were eating it before then — whether it was as a donburi (served over a bed of rice) or not, or in some other form. We don’t say that we were definitely where it started.”
The Japan Times reached out to both Kawakin and Oroji for their takes on the origin of katsu karē, and while Oroji declined to comment, Kawakin owner, Yoshikazu Kono echoed Fujioka’s sentiments.
“We didn’t give it the name ‘katsu karē’ — we just serve the dish,” Kono says. “That name comes from Ginza Swiss. And Oroji in Shinjuku calls it ‘tondon.’ We call it ‘Kawakin-don.’ But whether you think of it as curry on top of the meat or meat on top of the curry, out of the restaurants still standing, we are the oldest. Perhaps there are others even older than us.”
Sitting in the alcove at Ginza Swiss, I order the dish that has made its way onto plates across the globe. It comes to me on a white oval plate with a simple, retro sense of style and curry draped across a pristine mound of white rice.
Third-generation Ginza Swiss owner Akemi Fujioka says she is less concerned about diners thinking Ginza Swiss is the one and only inventor of the dish than those same customers enjoying all the ways the dish is prepared today.
| CASSANDRA LORD
The curry’s deep brown color comes through in its full, yet comforting flavors. There are pieces of minced pork throughout the sauce, lending texture and a meaty flavor that’s balanced by the sweetness of apple and onion. I bite into the rōsu (pork roast) katsu with a satisfying crunch, then take a spoonful with both curry and katsu. The curry flavors almost meld with the fatty and filling pork.
The meal feels like a hug from a grandmother: comforting with a sense of times gone by. It’s filling and indulgent, but the side of plain shredded cabbage feels like I’m still being reminded to eat my veggies. I sink into the atmosphere, happy to be a part of the ongoing history of Ginza Swiss.
Rodin
Whether you agree on the location of this dish’s advent or not, since katsu curry came onto the scene, topping Japanese curry with all sorts of meat and vegetables has become the norm. Curry specialty shops and yōshoku chains now dot the streets of Tokyo, as many restaurants as subtle variations on the original katsu karē formula.
But it is hard to find something that strays from the norm — a simple brown curry with white rice: Change it too much and it’s no longer recognizable as Japanese curry. In my search for someone doing something different, though, I came across the curious curry stylings of Rodin.
Rodin’s ‘katsu karē’ (breaded and fried pork served withJapanese curry) comes with a splash of cashew nut cream.
| CASSANDRA LORD
Stepping into Rodin is a very different experience to that of Grill Swiss. On a sidewalk in the Hatchobori neighborhood, a large yellow lantern greets me at ground level. Through the four-paned glass door leading inside, I can hear classical music playing from some small but apparently mighty speakers in the corner.
Though only established in 2009, Rodin feels like it has been here for decades. There is a comfortable ambiance and warm lighting, with just one chef working the kitchen. At the counter, I count 15 large pots of spices, both whole and powdered. Among them, I can see whole chilies, turmeric, mustard seeds and cardamom pods. This is a place that takes flavor seriously.
“When I was in high school, I used to make curry every Saturday and Sunday,” says owner Katsuya Sato. “I experimented a lot with it.”
The spices on display atop the counter at Rodin symbolize its owner’s lifelong love of and experimentation with the flavors that make curry what it is.
| CASSANDRA LORD
Today, Rodin offers four different types of curry, but of course, I’m here to try the classic rōsu katsu karē. The beige stripe drizzled on top of the curry is a cashew nut cream, and before combining it with anything else, I try a spoonful of the curry and cream on its own. The former is deep and flavorful with hints of soy sauce, and Sato tells me that it is made with a demi-glace base. It has a certain astringency that I can’t put my finger on — perhaps the onion or the turmeric. Combined with white rice, somehow that brings out the nutty flavors of the cashew even more.
I bite into the crisp pork katsu; another satisfying crunch. After a few mouthfuls of the curry, the spice is starting to build slightly but not to an uncomfortable degree. I pick up a little pot of fukujinzuke pickled relish made entirely with homegrown ingredients, including, to my surprise, blueberries. There is a crisp and acidic bite to it that goes well with the deep, dark curry.
As I clean up the last few spoonfuls off my plate, I think it’s odd how this dish has become an international favorite known as quintessentially Japanese abroad despite its yōshoku categorization at home. Maybe that’s just the way it is with dishes like katsu karē — a comfort food with such universal appeal that even those who claim to have created it are more interested in basking in its present glory than taking credit for its past.