We arrived at the tonkatsu restaurant just after the Tokyo lunch rush, settling in at the counter with cups of warm sake.

Topping my list of reasons to love Tokyo is the concept of specialty restaurants – where every speck of energy is spent on just one dish or cooking method. A tempura restaurant makes tempura and only tempura. Some exist solely for udon noodles, or for freshwater eel – it's quite a long list.

Tonkatsu is a deep-fried pork cutlet. A restaurant opening its doors every day to serve only that thrilled me. This is why we travel, I thought.

Not to brag, but I've had my share of fried pork. I'm from southern Indiana, where the breaded pork tenderloin sandwich is revered in certain diners and taverns.

The pork is pounded thin, fried, then served on a bun. The meat extends beyond the bread – sometimes ridiculously so. My father taught me early to add mustard and pickles, as we do with fried bologna sandwiches, and, I suppose, in honor of our German heritage.

Family culinary history was at the front of my mind as I drank in details of this tonkatsu kitchen from my front-row perch.

A chef with a long, slim blade sliced two thick pork loin steaks, dredged them in flour, and ran them through an egg wash before transferring them to a tray of panko breadcrumbs. (I probably do not need to say that these were fresh breadcrumbs.) With his whole hands, he patted, turned, and patted some more until they were thickly covered.

Using long wooden chopsticks, he lowered the cutlets into a huge vat of bubbling oil, a mix of sesame and cottonseed. He turned the pieces once and then again before holding each for the oil to drip away and allowing them to rest atop a metal grate.

With some ceremony, the chef reached over the counter to set the sliced cutlets before us.

We were advised to enjoy the first hottest bites with just a sprinkling of Andean mountain salt. The panko coating was light and crispy, the pork moist and delicious. There were radishes, pickles, rice, miso soup, and a dipping sauce (think Worcestershire).

I'm still talking about our Tokyo tonkatsu experience. This was not my father's fried pork tenderloin – though I know he would still be talking about it, too.

By the way, legislation to make breaded pork tenderloin the official sandwich of the Hoosier state was introduced in the Indiana legislature in January. It didn't pass, but I have not given up hope.