Katsu Curry: Why Real Japanese Curry Is Mom's Curry

There are a lot of styles of Japanese curry, and I'll get to them.

But when I think about Japanese curry, I don't think about any of them. I think about the curry my mom made.

It Never Came From India

This surprises people. Curry didn't arrive in Japan from India. It arrived from Britain.

In the Meiji era Japan rebuilt its navy along British lines, and curry came with it. The Royal Navy version was already heavily anglicized: pre-mixed curry powder instead of freshly ground spices, thickened with flour into something closer to a stew. The Imperial Japanese Navy made it a standard ration in 1908, partly because it helped with beriberi.

Then Japan took it further and thickened it with a proper roux, flour cooked in fat, the French technique. That's why Japanese curry is glossy and thick and a little sweet instead of loose and hot.

So my read is that Japanese curry sits closer to French cooking than Indian, and the roux is the actual reason why.

The Styles

There's ōfū curry, the European style you get in older Tokyo restaurants, dark, rich, heavy on the roux. There's soup curry from Sapporo, thin and spiced, nothing like the rest. There's the newer Osaka spice curry, which went back toward whole spices.

And then there's home curry, made from a block of roux out of a box.

That last one isn't a lesser version. For most people in Japan, it's the whole thing.

Kakushiaji

There's a word for what makes home curry personal: kakushiaji, hidden flavor. The thing you add that nobody's supposed to notice.

Apple and honey are the classic ones, so classic that House Foods built them into Vermont Curry in 1963, which is still the best-selling roux in Japan. That's why so many moms grate an apple in. It was already in the box.

But everyone has their own. Grated carrot. Ground beef instead of chunks. A square of dark chocolate. Yesterday's leftover coffee. Soy sauce. Banana.

Growing up with a Japanese mom, I'm fairly sure every mom makes it differently. That's the point of it. Nothing about it is fancy, and it's the most comforting food there is, because it tastes like one specific kitchen.

Where the Katsu Comes In

Putting a pork cutlet on curry rice is usually credited to Ginza Swiss, in 1948. Shigeru Chiba, an infielder for the Tokyo Giants, came in before a big game and asked them to put a tonkatsu on top for the extra fuel.

At the time nobody put anything on curry, and the other customers apparently stared. Now it's on every menu in Japan.

The Curry I Make

Ours is home curry. It's the kind my mom made, with a cutlet on it.

It isn't refined and it isn't trying to be. It's supposed to make you feel like you're somewhere familiar.

Try It at Juraku

Katsu Curry is on the menu at Izakaya Juraku, Lower East Side.

See the rest of the menu.