The two things you see at every table at Han Yang are the two things you must order: the donkatsu, a breaded pork cutlet of divine design and unearthly perfection, and the beef bone soup called galbitang, which might serve as a cure-all if the FDA ever allowed it to be bottled. The donkatsu has a greaseless cocoon of breading that's at once delicate and so endearingly crunchy you'll think some voodoo magic was involved. The meat in the middle is pristinely tender, without a trace of sinew. Perhaps it reached this state by being pounded with a mallet—or perhaps not. Served elevated above your plate on a metal cooling rack—yes, it's literally placed on a pedestal—every millimeter of it will remain perfect from the first bite to the last. Follow your mouthfuls of fried pork with the aforementioned soup, which appears to be plain water until you take the first sip and discover a fully rounded, lip-smacking, beefy elixir as sweet and rich as honey. And that nearly falling-off-the-bone hunk of beef rib? Dab it with some mustard, and then tear into it with your teeth. Your caveman ancestors would've done the same.