How Fried Chicken Has Fueled My Entire Life

Fried chicken is a way of life for me.

Specifically, Japanese-style karaage since Japan is where both my parents are from. Though, as a kid, I will admit that I grew up on the fast-food Southern version of fried chicken. Those buckets full of the good ol' Colonel's secret recipe and I go way back. My mom was a housewife and my dad owned a business, but a lot of times we ended up having fried chicken buckets for dinner, as it was an easy, satisfying, and relatively inexpensive way for my parents to feed their four hungry growing kids. Naturally, they always got a bunch of sides too, so these dinners always became makeshift feasts.

These fried chicken moments are some of my fondest memories to date.

I grew up going to Japan every summer. My mom only speaks Japanese to this day. As I matured, I knew that no matter what I ended up doing in my cooking career, I needed to somehow bring my nostalgic bicultural food traditions back and share it with the rest of the world. After all, everybody loves fried chicken.

I thought really hard and that is when the idea hit me: ?

This curiosity would eventually overcome me as I became utterly obsessed with the perfect way to meld my two cultures into one unforgettable chicken thigh. You know how Japanese chefs are notorious for focusing on one food and just doing it over and over again for the rest of their lives until it is as perfect as they can get it? That became me in my quest to successfully meld my upbringing's flavors of soy, ginger, and garlic with traditional Southern spices. And this bicultural fried chicken obsession would eventually become the basis for my restaurant, Tokyo Fried Chicken Co. But little did I know that finding the perfect recipe would take me two years to create.

I first started testing my Japanese-Southern fried chicken recipe in the first restaurant that I owned. I would make early prototypes and offer it as a special sometimes to the regular customers. They all loved it. I knew then that I was on to something. But despite their consistently empty returned plates, I would still come in before we opened up just to keep experimenting with my recipe and make it better.

The thing about a traditional boneless karaage recipe is that a lot of the ingredients get easily burned and I wanted my chicken to be bone-in. I had to find that perfect balance between the two cooking styles which turned out to be a cross between a Southern-style batter and Japanese-style marinade. The perfect thickness of the crust was also really important to me, so I adjusted that many times before finding the right consistency too. Lastly, it came down to finding the right oil to fry the chicken in. I don't think many people realize this, but the the type of oil you use directly affects your fried chicken. I found that rice bran oil had a nice, clean finish and high enough smoking point for my needs.

Then came the sauce challenge. I knew that this component in the dish was a job for soy sauce. And then it came to me: ponzu! Lightly sweetened ponzu served in those bear-shaped plastic honey containers to be exact, in ode to the popular Southern way of eating fried chicken, of course. After I nailed this, I knew it was time to open up my new restaurant.

Two years later (the restaurant's birthday is on National Fried Chicken day, coincidentally), I am extremely grateful to report that my fried chicken way of life has paid off, or at least the lines of people outside my place that wait upwards of an hour for a table on any given weekday night.

As for the recipe, well, let's just say that my employees don't even know my recipe yet. But I'll give you a hint: soy, ginger, garlic, and a lifetime of allegiance.

This post previously appeared on MUNCHIES in August, 2015.