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Is there another suburb in Perth with more Japanese eateries per square kilometre than Victoria Park? In particular, along its vibrant, hyperactive main artery, Albany Highway?

Today’s, Katzu Katzu, is a clean-shaven 32-seater specialising in the Japanese classic known as katsu: deep-fried cutlets of breaded meat inspired by western cooking. Katsu, incidentally, is short for katsuretsu, the Romanized Japanese word for “cutlet”; and katsu katsu an onomatopoeic phrase used to describe the sound of crunchy food.

Eaters here are likely to hear that crunch frequently. You’ll notice it when breaking open the spam korokke ($6 for two): golden oblongs studded with everyone’s favourite nose-to-tail luncheon meat. Compared to, say, molten Spanish and French croquette made from bechamel, their Japanese counterpart is fashioned out of mashed potato. The result is a lighter, drier croquette that benefits from being anointed with some kind of condiment: the medium-hot fermented chilli sauce that it’s served with, perhaps, or the fruity, slow-mo house tonkatsu sauce that pours with the consistency of sundae sauce (my pick).

There’s also katsu katsu going on with the fried baby squid scattered over thick cubes of watermelon doused in a white vinegar dressing ($12): a wallet-friendlier tribute to Nobu’s soft shell crab and watermelon salad as well as Katzu Katzu chef-owner Sean Hong’s time working at Nobu Perth.

The katsus themselves go hard on the crunch too. The process: get your meat, coat it in flour, dip it into beaten egg then press this wet mess into a tray filled with brittle flakes of panko. Once breaded, fry to order in a blend of canola and sesame oil until the panko has hardened into a crunchy, golden-brown fur coat, then slice and serve on a wire rack to lift your katsu off the bottom off your plate so it stays crisp.

While any ingredient can, in theory, undergo katsu-fication, katsu is synonymous with pork. In Japan, the finest examples of tonkatsu (the Japanese word for pork cutlet) are made with Kurobuta pork, a breed of pig prized for its high fat marbling that helps keep meat juicy during cooking. The Kurobuta is a descendent of the British Berkshire pig: the breed of pig Hong exclusively uses. Katzu Katzu’s pork katsus come in two sizes, starting with the standard-issue katsu ($18) made from pork loin that’s had its fat cap left on (juicy if perhaps, unsurprisingly, fatty). Ordering the “mega cut” ($30; if it’s available) gets you a five-centimetre slab of pig cut from the cushion: a part of the shoulder with the right amount of inter-muscular marbling to keep such a sizeable bit of pork juicy during its extended fry time.

In Japan, chicken is another protein favoured by katsu cooks and eaters alike. Hong serves it as a straight cutlet made from thigh fillet ($15) as well as something he calls Malibu chicken ($18): a serviceable Kiev remake which features chicken breast stuffed with cheese and ham made for him by his butcher mates at Ryan’s Quality Meat. For the rest of August, the restaurant is doing a seasonal wagyu beef katsu special ($30) I wish was available year-round.

As well as choosing a protein, other decisions need to be made. Rice or udon noodles? Everything served individually or piled into a bowl with sweet egg omelette, katsudon-style? How about sauce and condiments? Craving Japanese comfort? The soothing, Japanese-style curry – while not made in-house – is low in spice and high in nostalgia. Like playing with your food? You’ll love being able to grind black and white sesame seeds to your preferred thickness before adding the house tonkatsu. My pick? A dab of mustard (medium hot) plus a squeeze of lemon makes any bit of fried food shine.

A small list of modestly priced sides – fine edamame ($6); a bowl of cucumbers sliced into 20-cent coins splashed with a sharp brown rice vinegar ($6) – provide options for bulking out your meal while a tonjiru soup made from porky offcuts can be slotted into meal sets in various ways. Those averse to chilli might find the quantities of chilli oil concerning. Your doctor will likely be alarmed by the mini icebergs of pork fat bobbing on the soup’s surface.

Katzu Katzu is a casual establishment, so service can occasionally feel perfunctory, although well-meaning. Menu prices make Katzu Katzu an accessible option, but you get what you pay for. The prawns ($19), for example, aren’t the sweetest or juiciest in the world, but you get four good-sized shrimp in an order. The sole dessert option is tiny pre-packaged soft serves that arrive freezer-cold and with soggy cones, but they’re also only $2.50. QR codes are also part of the package, which may irk some.

While the queues aren’t as long as those as Yip up the road, you may have to wait during peak times. Why not come for lunch where you can also take advantage of a nicely priced business lunch deal (from $20) that includes a drink and edamame? Hong calls this deal a victory lunch. Very fitting: katsu, it turns out, also means “to win” in Japanese.