Is this enough cabbage for you?
This is an ebi katsu. Somewhere underneath this bird's nest of cabbage is a fried shrimp patty. I'm not complaining though. I could eat wedges of cabbage, raw. Plain, when it's crisp and cool in your mouth like eating water. I eat water dipped in a creamy dressing. Freshness cutting through the fatty mayo that coats my mouth. The shiso ume tartar sauce that oozes out from beneath the top bun demands this cabbage nest. I eat water to chase a fried bite or two as well. Oil and water are friends here. My cabbage nest becomes a bland palate cleanser for each crunchy bite of katsu. You might notice as I did that the menu distinctly left out cabbage as an ingredient on this sandwich. When I asked the waitress to confirm that I was not going to just get a fried chunk of meat between two buns (which would've been good but not great), she offered to leave the cabbage off. I interrupted her, No. I love cabbage.
Even more remarkable than the sandwich tower in its entirety, which I strained to wrap my mouth around, was the ebi katsu itself. I was delightfully surprised by the fact that the patty was not a homogenous mass of minced shrimp but rather a collection of briny and sweet little shrimps snuggled together in a browned panko crust. I savored each individual shrimp that were somehow both melt-in-your-mouth and bouncy at the same time. Together with the cabbage threads, single tomato slice, and romaine leaf - which I can only imagine is there to be the bed the ebi katsu rests on - every juicy bite was balanced and well-lubricated with tartar sauce. Just in case you also can't finish a sandwich as dramatic as this, it makes for great leftovers. Even after it's fallen apart and has to be eaten in messy pieces at your work desk.
Extra: sea beans and corn tempura with matcha salt.
For a fun snack. And even more crunch.
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