Tonkatsu Elegy

Even before I left the house, I had decided that I would eat dinner at that restaurant today.

I am talking about that tonkatsu restaurant that my family of three used to visit occasionally when we lived in the neighborhood a long time ago.

Since it was a branch of a famous Tokyo restaurant, the taste was undoubtedly excellent, but more than that, it was a place where the atmosphere was just so pleasant, thanks to the perfectly synchronized teamwork between the taciturn, artisan-like father who focused solely on frying delicious tonkatsu, and the mother, a hospitality genius who would observe each customer and offer a word only when truly necessary and at the perfect moment.

However, one day, when I visited the restaurant as usual, I didn't hear the mother's energetic 'Welcome!', and looking at the state of the restaurant, it seemed that the father was now running it with two young part-time girls. Moreover, the service provided by those girls was clearly clumsy. But what was most shocking was seeing the father unable to hide his irritation toward them.

His tonkatsu, the shredded cabbage, the pickles, and the pork miso soup were all as delicious as before, but I felt a sense of sadness, as if a dream had come to an end.

And since then, our feet naturally drifted away from that restaurant, and we eventually moved to a distant city.

But today, I felt that I absolutely had to eat that tonkatsu.

After all, for me, tonkatsu is more than just food...

That is because the first time I ate out alone after moving to Tokyo for work was at a tonkatsu restaurant in Ueno.

The tonkatsu I ate at the counter then wasn't just delicious; as I ate it, energy surged through my entire body, and before I knew it, I had developed a positive mindset, thinking, 'I'm going to do my best here!' That is the kind of tonkatsu it was.

And at that moment, I

'If I am going to work, I want to do a job where I can encourage or give courage to someone who feels as uncertain as I do.'

I firmly vowed to myself.

That is why, when I feel down at work or want to give myself a little boost, I always eat tonkatsu to remember how I felt at that time.

Besides, I happened to be near that restaurant today for some business anyway.

It has been a long time since then, so perhaps the mother has returned, and I might be able to see that legendary duo's brilliant teamwork once again.

With my heart swelling with such expectations, I walked through that nostalgic noren curtain once more.

'Welcome!!'

As soon as I entered, I heard a very pleasant greeting.

But it wasn't the mother's voice; it was the voice of a tall man in his thirties.

I see.

Since both of them are elderly, perhaps the mother has already passed away.

For a moment, I almost felt sentimental, but the very spirited young man's service was genuinely pleasant, and above all, seeing the old man frying tonkatsu with such agility and joy, just like in the old days, made me feel happy too.

"One loin cutlet set meal, please."

I ordered while wiping my hands with a hand towel that was just the right temperature.

And as I secretly watched the old man's series of movements across the counter, without a single wasted motion, I couldn't help but be enchanted by their unchanging beauty.

Furthermore, the destructive power of the sizzling sound when the tonkatsu hits the oil, and that crunchy sound when he cleanly slices through the thick, freshly fried batter with his knife!

"Sorry to keep you waiting!"

Placed gently on the plain wood table by the young man,

how beautiful it looked, the dish I hadn't seen in so long.

And, even though I must have eaten it many times before,

it was so good that I found myself thinking, "Huh? Was it always this delicious?"

Today's tonkatsu was by far the best I've ever had here.

That was, of course, partly due to my own personal circumstances of coming here to be cheered up by tonkatsu,

but it must have been because the sight of the old man,

who, despite losing his greatest and most beloved partner, is working vibrantly once again with a new, wonderful buddy,

served as the best seasoning of all.

When I went to pay, the young man was busy serving customers in the back room, so as I waited for him to return, the old man himself,

"That will be 1,700 yen."

called out to me.

The voice of the old man I heard for the first time

was a very gentle voice.

And, it was somewhat similar to that mother's voice.

I handed the old man exactly 1700 yen so there would be no change, and then left the shop.

With the old man and the older brother's

"Thank you very much!"

best unison bathing my back.

And, having closed the sliding door more carefully and slowly than when I entered so as not to make a sound, after leaving the shop, I called my wife first thing.

"XXX (the tonkatsu shop's name) has made a complete comeback with a new management system! Let's all go eat there sometime!"