Tonkatsu (とんかつ, breaded pork cutlet)

Tonkatsu frightens people because of the oil. Fair enough. A pot of hot fat on a weeknight can make a sensible cook suddenly remember urgent paperwork. But this dish is not difficult, only exacting in two places: the pork must be good, and the oil must be kept steady.

The cutlet itself is plain. Pork loin gives you a clean slice and a tidy shape; pork shoulder loin gives more richness if you don't mind a little irregularity. Trim the silver skin, tap the meat to an even thickness, salt it early, and let it sit long enough for the seasoning to enter the flesh instead of sitting on the crust. Nothing hidden. The sauce is sharp and dark, but it should never be asked to rescue dry pork.

The one detail that decides tonkatsu is the two-stage fry. First, fry gently until the crust sets pale gold and the meat is almost cooked. Rest it, so the heat finishes moving inward. Then return it briefly to hotter oil, and the panko tightens into a crisp coat without driving the center past juicy. This is the method, not the menu: control the heat, and the dish becomes calm.

Serve it sliced, not whole, beside a little hill of finely shredded cabbage. The cabbage is not decoration. It cools the mouth, catches the sauce, and keeps the richness honest. Rice, miso soup, pickles, tonkatsu, cabbage: a full meal, with every part doing its work.