鶏の照り焼き
Tori no teriyaki
鶏の照り焼き — teri, a glaze's shine; yaki, grilled.
Chicken thighs started skin-down in a cold pan for crisp skin, then glazed in a four-ingredient reduction of soy, mirin, sake and sugar with no cornflour.
Named from the ingredients as written, including those carried in from sub-recipes. This is not a guarantee — check the labels on what you actually buy, and note that a product’s recipe can change.
Stir the soy sauce, mirin, sake and sugar together until the sugar dissolves. That is the whole sauce — no garlic, no ginger and no cornflour, which would turn it opaque and claggy.
Pat the chicken thighs dry and lay them skin-side down in a cold frying pan with the oil, then set it over medium heat.
Cook without moving them for 10-12 minutes. Starting cold renders the fat out slowly so the skin crisps, and it will release itself from the pan when it is ready.
Turn the thighs and cook for 4 minutes more, then tip off the rendered fat — left in, it makes the sauce greasy and stops it clinging.
Pour in the sauce, raise the heat to medium-high and cook for 4-6 minutes, spooning it over and turning the chicken, until it reaches 74C and the sauce has reduced by half to a glossy, translucent film.
Rest the chicken for 5 minutes, then slice it across into 1cm strips and lay over rice.
Spoon the pan sauce over, scatter with spring onion and sesame seeds, and serve.
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Salty and sweet in balance, with a depth from the fermented soy and the sake that a sugar-and-soy mixture alone does not have. It should taste savoury first and sweet second; the bottled version reverses that.
Caramelising soy, which is one of the more appetising smells there is and fills a kitchen in the last two minutes.
Crisp skin, tender thigh, sticky glaze.
The sauce bubbling hard as it reduces.
Salt first, then sweetness, then a long fermented savoury finish.
Hot over hot rice.
Steamed rice and something pickled or sharp — cucumber, or pickled ginger. A cold beer.
Beginner.
Low.
One frying pan.
A weeknight, in forty minutes.
None.
The sauce reduced by about half, translucent and glossy, clinging to the chicken in a thin film rather than sitting around it.
Crisp skin, juicy thigh, and a glaze that is sticky rather than thick.
Chicken at 74C/165F instantaneous (USDA), or 70C for two minutes / 75C instantaneously (UK Food Standards Agency). Thighs are forgiving and the sauce stage takes them well past it.
Thin sauce: keep reducing and keep spooning. Bitter: the sugar caught; start the sauce again, it takes two minutes. Greasy: the fat was not poured off. Skin not crisp: it went into a hot pan, or was moved too early.
The sauce keeps indefinitely in the fridge and is worth making in quantity.
Three days in the fridge.
A pan on low with a splash of water. The skin will not stay crisp.
Freezes for two months, sauce and all.
Cold in a rice bowl or a sandwich, which is a Japanese lunchbox standard.
Doubles in a wide enough pan; the chicken needs to sit in one layer.
Dry sherry for sake. If mirin is unavailable, use 4 tbsp sake with an extra tablespoon of sugar. Salmon is the other classic protein and takes the same sauce and about 8 minutes.
Contains soya and gluten — soy sauce is brewed with wheat, which surprises people, and tamari is the gluten-free alternative. Dairy free, egg free and nut free. Salmon or firm tofu both work with the identical sauce.
Real mirin — hon-mirin — rather than 'mirin-style seasoning', which is glucose syrup with flavouring and is noticeably worse.
Thighs rather than breast, cheaper and better. Mirin and sake keep for a long time and are cheapest from a Japanese or Chinese grocer.
Chicken is the lowest-footprint common meat and thighs are the less-demanded part of the bird. The sauce works identically on firm tofu and on salmon, so the same recipe covers a plant version without adjustment. Soy sauce, mirin and sake all keep for months, so nothing here is bought for a single meal.
Reasonable. The sugar is real but the quantity across four portions is modest.
Four ingredients, no starch, and a cold pan to start. Everything most people know about teriyaki comes off a bottle and none of it is needed.
Japan.
Teriyaki.
teh-ree-YAH-kee.
Teri means lustre or shine and yaki means grilled or pan-fried. The name describes the finish, not the flavour, which is the single most useful thing to know about it.
Teriyaki is a technique documented in Japan from the Edo period: grilling fish or meat while brushing on a glaze of soy, mirin, sake and sugar in layers, so it builds a shine. It is most traditionally applied to fish — yellowtail teriyaki is the classic. The chicken version, and the bottled thick sweet sauce sold under the name in the West, are twentieth-century American developments strongly associated with Japanese-American cooks in Hawaii, who adapted the glaze with local ingredients including pineapple juice and brown sugar.
Very widely known abroad in a form that differs considerably from the Japanese one, which makes it a useful case in how a technique becomes a product.
A weeknight dinner, and a lunchbox staple in Japan.
Glazing in layers while grilling, so the sugars caramelise progressively.
It became a bottled sauce, thickened with starch, sweetened heavily and often given garlic, ginger and pineapple — which is a different product with the same name.
Fish teriyaki, especially yellowtail and salmon, is the more traditional application. Hawaiian versions include pineapple juice.
Four ingredients and no thickener, and the chicken started skin-down in a cold pan. The recipe is written partly to say what teriyaki is not, because the bottled version is what most people have met.
None.