Waraji Katsudon (わらじカツ丼)

The first time a waraji katsudon lands in front of you, you laugh. You can't help it. There are two enormous, flat pork cutlets draped over the bowl, hanging off every edge, completely burying the rice underneath like they're trying to escape. They're so big they're literally named after waraji — the woven straw sandals people used to walk across Japan in.

This is Chichibu, in the mountains of Saitama, looking at a normal katsudon and saying "cute, but what if it was a monster?" And then drizzling the whole glorious excess in a sweet-savory sauce. Come hungry. Come very hungry.

Born big in 1950s Chichibu

Waraji katsudon was born in the 1950s at a Chichibu restaurant called Yasudaya, and the name was always the gag: those two thin, oversized cutlets look exactly like a pair of straw sandals. Locals fell for it immediately, and over the decades it became the dish tourists climb the mountains for — fuel for hikers heading to Chichibu's shrines, and a point of serious hometown pride.

Big, yes — but done right

Here's what saves it from being a mere stunt: those cutlets are pounded thin and fried crisp, then dipped in a sweet-and-savory sauce that soaks just into the crust without going soggy. So instead of a heavy slab, you get crunchy, juicy, sauce-glazed pork over hot rice — the sauce running down into the grains until every bite is seasoned.

Note what's not here: no egg. Unlike the classic egg-and-dashi katsudon, this is a sauce katsudon — the cutlet, the sauce, the rice, and nothing to get in their way. Every shop guards its own sauce recipe, so no two are quite the same.

How it's made

1. Pound pork loin thin and wide, then bread it — flour, egg, panko
2. Deep-fry until golden and crisp
3. Dip the fried cutlets in a special sweet-savory soy-based sauce
4. Lay them over a bowl of hot rice (two of them, hanging off the sides — that's the law) and drizzle with more sauce

That's it. The genius is entirely in the sauce and the restraint — let the crispy pork and rice do the talking.

Before you go — strategy for a giant

Your questions, answered honestly

"Can I actually finish two?" — Be honest with yourself. They're thin, so it's less meat than it looks — but it's still a lot. Many shops let you order a single cutlet (ichi-mai). No shame in the one-sandal life.

"Wait — there's no egg?" — Correct. This is a sauce katsudon, not the egg-simmered kind. If you came for the soft egg version, this is a different (and great) beast entirely.

"How do I even eat something this big?" — Lift a cutlet off, set it on the lid or a side plate, and cut it down to size. Or fold it. There's no elegant way, and that's fine — nobody here is judging.

"What goes with it?" — It usually comes as a set with miso soup and pickles. That's all the balance you need against the glorious excess.

What the staff will ask you

You'll hear	Romaji	Meaning	Just say
カツは一枚？二枚？	Katsu wa ichi-mai? ni-mai?	"One cutlet or two?"	Ni-mai de (two) / Ichi-mai de (just one)
ごはん大盛りにしますか？	Gohan ōmori ni shimasu ka?	"Large rice?"	Onegaishimasu (yes) / Futsū de (normal)
お味噌汁つきます	Omisoshiru tsukimasu	"Comes with miso soup"	(great, thank you)

To order, just say "Waraji katsudon kudasai" (わらじカツ丼ください) — "Waraji katsudon, please."

Where to eat it

• Yasudaya (安田屋) — Chichibu. The 1950s originator, the place that started the whole oversized legend.
• Michi-no-Eki Roadside stations & local diners around Chichibu — many serve their own take, easy to reach from Chichibu Station and great to pair with a shrine visit.

Hours and locations change, so check before you go — and skip breakfast. Seriously.