When faced with the clamour and glamour of the Causeway Bay dining scene, where neon lights and non-street level restaurants aren't exactly conducive to a casual post-apperetivo wander to find dinner, you can appreciate why many a confused diner has taken the soft option and headed straight for Din Tai Fung. This would be a mistake. Admittedly a not undelicious one, but a mistake all the same.
Causeway Bay is my favourite dining area in the city, and I'll tell you why. For those willing to research, explore and, occasionally, take a chance in a cramped elevator in an unassuming lift lobby, you will be rewarded with excellent, usually reasonably priced, food in fun surroundings. From the "wash the smoke out of your clothes" Korean-bbq joints, to comfortable Japanese izakayas, CWB is the place to be.
That said, actually finding Saboten wasn't that much of a hassle – it is well signed and occupies a space one staircase down off a busy pedestrian street, but I always enjoy a preach about eating out in CWB and not Central, so there.
Saboten is an outlet of a major Japanese tonkatsu chain and, in keeping with its brethren in the motherland, exudes simple Japanese calm in its lower-ground floor dining area. Lots of blond wood, soft lighting, comfortable and clean booths are just what you need to reassure your body that you're about to do something good for it, when actually what you are about to do is stuff your face with deep fried pork and seafood, washed down with a couple of cold beers.
But that is to understate the brilliance of Saboten. Perfectly juicy, non-greasy and crispy panko-coated pork, shrimp, oysters (in season) and other fried delights are merely the tip of the iceberg. Roadside deep fried food joint this is not. The real wins here extend to the classic extra touches you get when a tonkatsu restaurant is done right – proper tangy tonkatsu sauce and mustard at the table, unlimited shredded cabbage to dredge with Japanese dressing, unlimited picked cucumber and daikon to cut through the fattiness of the pork, perfectly cooked warm rice (white or brown) and a better than average miso soup. Sets start at about HK$180 and top out in the mid HK$250s for the premium cuts or for those feeling gluttonous, so it won't break the bank (unless you are visiting Hong Kong, in which case suck it up and appreciate that this is actually quite good value for a decent dinner in nice surroundings).
Although I tend to eat food at home like a caveman – in front of the TV, with my hands or one basic implement and very quickly, I like to think I am generally a considerate dining companion, usually taking time to carefully chew my food, with a reasonable time between forkfuls, and generally with my mouth closed. This avoids the awkward situation occurring where you finish your entire meal shortly before your guest's napkin is unfolded and also has the ancillary benefit of making you look more sophisticated and generally better in front of the opposite sex. That said, sometimes I just can't help myself, and this was a sometimes.
My dining companion looked with a mixture of what, in retrospect, was horror and disdain, as I inhaled my set, stopping very occasionally to swig cold Asahi, slather tonkatsu sauce on my pork and breathe (in that order). She had some kind of omelette-covered Japanese hot pot thing, which on any ordinary day would look delicious, but on that particular evening looked like a swamp rat next to Meghan Markle, and I couldn't help but feel a little proud of my superior menu selection.
The only black mark on the evening was that my dining companion, a girl I was dating and with whom I thought things had been going swimmingly up to that point, promptly dumped me shortly after we left. At the time, I blamed it on her envy of my food choices, and her inability to appreciate my superior and charming dinner conversation. Later, I realised that it was probably because she never wants to see someone eat fried pork that quickly or suffer the embarrassment of seeing someone ask a waitress for refills of pickled cucumbers on five separate occasions (who, it must be pointed out, obliged promptly each time).
I also paid the bill for both of us, which was annoying, even if it was incredibly reasonable for some great tucker. Had I not been blinded by a pork-induced dopamine high, I would probably have seen her masterplan coming and tried to split it.
It was the proverbial meal that was so good you'd pay for it twice (and I did), and although definitely worth a semi-regular return trip, I won't be taking dates there any time soon.