By Mid-August and the summer is beginning its slow turn. The tomatoes are at peak. The blackberries are everywhere. The light has shifted from the vertical, hammering light of July to the slanted, golden light of late August, the light that says: notice me. I am leaving. Notice me while I am here. I am noticing. I am noticing everything this summer, with the heightened attention that grief brings — the hyperawareness of beauty that comes from understanding, at last, that beauty is temporary.
I made hiyashi chuka one last time before summer ends — cold ramen with all the toppings, the farewell-to-summer meal. I ate it on the balcony while the evening cooled and the shiso rustled in the breeze and I thought about Fumiko and I did not cry. Not because the grief is gone — it is not gone, it will never be gone — but because the grief has shifted, from the acute, gasping phase to the chronic, steady phase, the phase where you carry it like a coat you cannot remove, the phase where the weight becomes familiar and the familiar becomes bearable and the bearable becomes, eventually, something like peace. I am not at peace. But I can see it from here.
The tutor and I finished translating all twenty-six recipe cards this week. Twenty-six recipes. Twenty-six meals. Twenty-six windows into Fumiko's kitchen. The last card was the miso soup — the first card we translated, now revisited with new eyes. I read it again: "The dashi must smell like the ocean." I closed my eyes and smelled the dashi in my memory and in my kitchen and the two smells were the same, and the sameness was Fumiko, alive in the recipe, alive in the ingredients, alive in the instruction to start again if the ocean is not there.
I put the original cards back in the archival box. I typed every translation into a document on my computer. I printed the translations and pinned them to the wall above the stove, next to the original cards in their frames. The wall is now a museum, a library, a temple. Fumiko's kitchen, preserved in ink and paper and the stubborn refusal of a granddaughter to let the recipes disappear. They will not disappear. I will not let them. The cooking continues. The chain holds. Twenty-six recipes. Twenty-six promises. I will keep every one.
With all twenty-six of Fumiko’s recipe cards finally translated and pinned above the stove, I found myself wanting to cook something Japanese—not from the archival box, but from my own hands, my own memory of her kitchen. Chicken karaage is the kind of food she would have made on a Tuesday without ceremony, the golden crunch of it filling the apartment the way her presence once filled a room. It felt right to make it now, at the end of this long summer of translating and grieving and slowly learning how to carry both at once—a reminder that the tradition she left me is not just twenty-six cards on a wall, but every Japanese meal I will ever choose to make.
Japanese Fried Chicken (Chicken Karaage)
Prep Time: 15 min (plus 30 min marinating) | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 65 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 1 1/2 lbs boneless, skin-on chicken thighs, cut into 1 1/2-inch pieces
- 3 tablespoons soy sauce
- 2 tablespoons sake (or dry sherry)
- 1 tablespoon mirin
- 1 teaspoon sesame oil
- 1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
- 2 cloves garlic, grated
- 1/2 cup potato starch (or cornstarch)
- Neutral oil, for frying (such as vegetable or canola)
- Lemon wedges, for serving
- Japanese mayonnaise, for serving (optional)
Instructions
- Marinate the chicken. In a large bowl, combine soy sauce, sake, mirin, sesame oil, grated ginger, and grated garlic. Add the chicken pieces and toss to coat thoroughly. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes, or up to 4 hours.
- Heat the oil. Pour 2 inches of neutral oil into a heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven. Heat over medium-high until the oil reaches 350°F (175°C). Set a wire rack over a sheet pan nearby.
- Dredge the chicken. Remove the chicken from the marinade, shaking off any excess. Working in batches, toss the pieces in potato starch until evenly coated on all sides. Shake off any loose excess starch.
- First fry. Carefully lower 5—6 pieces into the hot oil. Fry for 3—4 minutes until lightly golden and just cooked through. Transfer to the wire rack. Repeat with remaining chicken, allowing the oil to return to temperature between batches.
- Second fry. Raise the oil temperature to 375°F (190°C). Return all the chicken to the oil in batches and fry for 1—2 minutes more until deeply golden and extra crispy. Transfer back to the wire rack.
- Serve. Arrange on a platter with lemon wedges and Japanese mayonnaise on the side. Serve immediately while the crust is at its crunchiest.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 390 | Protein: 28g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 18g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 720mg