Katsu Sando (Japanese Breaded Pork or Chicken Cutlet Sandwich)

At the beginning of 2023, at the height of its popularity, the Los Angeles restaurant Konbi shuttered its doors. Konbi had become a social media sensation, buoyed by the popularity of its maddeningly photogenic versions of Japanese cafe foods like egg sandos and multi-layered croissants. But of all of its offerings, few were more iconic than Konbi’s pork katsu (cutlet) sandwich. The uniform finger sandwiches developed a cult following, with patrons lining out the door for a chance to savor that timeless combination of fried pork cutlet, milk bread, cabbage, and sauce.

Konbi didn’t invent the katsu sando. The sandwich has been around since at least the 1930s, when the manager of the Japan’s tonkatsu restaurant Isen sought a more portable and convenient format for the cutlet. In Japan these days the sandwich is prevalent throughout the country—you can even find a katsu sando at 7-eleven (some might argue that this is the greatest version of the sandwich).

The construction of the sandwich is simple: A fried pork or chicken cutlet, finely sliced green cabbage, tonkatsu sauce, kewpie mayonnaise (sometimes), all neatly packed between two pillowy slices of Japanese milk bread. So how do you make one at home? Is there some secret sauce? (Hint: There is, in fact, a secret sauce.)

Rather than attempting to put some new spin on a classic, here I focus on execution. So let’s go layer by layer, starting with the most important part: the katsu.

The Katsu (Cutlet)

The katsu portion of the sandwich makes or breaks it—it’s in the name, after all. The cutlet’s fried exterior should be crisp, light, golden brown,and slightly yielding; while the meat should remain juicy, be uniform in thickness, and well seasoned. Most recipes call for breading the cutlets in store-bought, Japanese-style dry panko. And while this method produces a serviceable cutlet, I’m never quite satisfied with the results: The browning can be spotty and uneven, and it’s never quite as shatteringly crisp as I envision. Just one look at the pros in action confirms it: At the highest level, restaurant versions of katsu are fluffier, crispier, more uniformly golden, and the panko flakes are massive in comparison to store-bought dry panko. So how do they do it?

Nama Panko

The key to restaurant quality katsu lies in using nama panko (fresh panko). Traditionally, panko is made from loaves of enriched bread baked by electrical current, which results in a crustless, white bread. The loaves are staled, then shredded into flakes and dried for long-term storage and transport. For most consumers in the States, this dried panko is what you’ll find in most stores. 

In contrast, nama panko is a specialty product, in which the flakes are left undried, dramatically decreasing their shelf life. But the increased hydration of nama panko carries several benefits. The panko is light and fluffy, and the flakes are large, increasing the available surface area such that, when deep fried, the crust becomes shatteringly crisp. Increased hydration means no hard, dense crumbs to begin with, so the fried flakes take on a more lacy, delicate texture than store-bought dried panko.* The excess moisture in nama panko also insulates the meat slightly, slows down the frying process, protecting the cutlet from overcooking.

*If you’re not convinced, you can try this experiment yourself: Deep fry cubes of fresh bread and fully desiccated, rock hard bread, then compare. You should notice a big difference in the finished texture.

If nama panko is so vastly superior to dried panko, then what’s the catch? Why don’t more people use it? For one, nama panko isn’t shelf stable, so unless you’re ready to use all of it within a few days, then longer term storage becomes an issue. The product is also hard to source outside of Japan. In the States, there aren’t any obvious online sources, and that’s probably because a) there’s not much demand for it and b) the shelf life is so short.

A Solution

While I don’t have access to real nama panko, I can get pretty darn close. I’m fortunate to live by a number of Japanese bakeries, all of which offer shokupan, or Japanese milk bread. So I sliced up a loaf, trimmed the crust, let it stale for a day, then gave the bread a whirl in a food processor. The result? Flaky, shredded, fluffy pieces that coated the cutlets nearly perfectly. The fried crust was delicate, shattery, and blew crusts made from store-bought dried panko out of the water.

The look and feel of this “nama panko” was almost identical to what I could see online. But the individual flakes were smaller, and a bit uneven—probably due to the brutish, indiscriminate nature of the processor blade. I switched to the grater attachment, and immediately saw improvement. The grated flakes were large, strand-like, and even fluffier than before. And the fried coating? Light, golden brown, impossibly crispy—a worthy facsimile of some of the finest katsu I’ve eaten.

Additional Cutlet Care

Kenji has detailed most considerations when preparing the actual cutlet, but to summarize here:

• Pork or chicken are the most popular options.
• Use a fatty cut of pork such as pork sirloin to ensure the meat stays moist; pork loin and shoulder are acceptable; ask for 4- to 5-ounce portions.
• Chicken thighs can be treated similarly to pork sirloin.
• Chicken breasts should be salted at least a few hours and up to a day ahead of frying.
• All meats should be trimmed and pounded to achieve a uniform 1/4 inch thickness. This is especially important for the katsu sandwich, since we want an even layer throughout.

The Cabbage

Cabbage is the go-to accompaniment for katsu, whether served with katsu curry or in a sandwich. The cabbage is sliced into razor-thin threads, and often shocked in ice water to maximize its crisp and crunch. The best way to cut the cabbage (beyond having a sharp knife), is to separate individual leaves from the head, trim out the thick ribs and any non-leafy parts, roll up the leaves, and slice through the roll (this is most similar to a chiffonade). Of course, you could just blast through a head of cabbage with a mandolin. But to get the most uniform, perfect strands, there’s no substitute for careful knife work.

I dress the cabbage in a light sauce of ground toasted sesame seeds, kewpie mayonnaise, rice wine vinegar, and a calculated hit of Dijon mustard. The dressing doesn’t overpower the sandwich, but instead complements the other elements, brightening an otherwise rich and heavy ensemble. And as much as I enjoy raw cabbage in this application, it definitely benefits from the added flavor of the simple dressing.  

The Bread

Most versions of the katsu sandwich feature thick slabs of milk bread. At most, the slices are trimmed of their crust, for the tidy, iconic look of a traditional konbini katsu sando. Whether you trim the ends is up to you. But I’d argue that the crust is generally chewier than the pillowy interior of the milk bread, so if you’re a fan of uniform texture, then trim away. Beyond that, I choose to lightly toast the inner sides of the bread—providing a slight buffer against sogginess from the sauce or juices from the cutlet.

The Sauce

Tonkatsu sauce is essential to the flavor of this sandwich. Of course, you could make your own version of tonkatsu sauce. But in my opinion, there is no substitute for Bull-Dog tonkatsu sauce (and I’m not alone in that camp). Besides, you’ve already put in all that work to dial in the katsu component. Why attempt to overachieve, when the result is arguably inferior? Don’t be a hero.

Kewpie mayonnaise is a subject of debate in the final construction of the sandwich. In my research, I’ve found versions with and without mayonnaise. For example, Konbi’s version omits any mayonnaise. On the other hand, the 7-eleven chicken katsu sandwich includes a light swoop of mayo. At the end of the day, choosing kewpie is your right. Just don’t skimp on the Bull-Dog.