Chapter : 64
The Bachelor Makes Yakitori
After buying rockbird meat and returning home, I immediately decided to make yakitori.
I separated the rockbird meat I bought at the butcher shop into different parts and cut each into bite-sized pieces with a knife.
First, the skin. This part isn’t too troublesome. I cut it into sizes easy to skewer.
Any excess pieces were trimmed off.
I wanted to use as much as possible, but if the pieces weren’t shaped neatly, skewering would look messy and make it harder to eat.
Once that was done, I moved on to the gizzards. First, I cut off the soft, unnecessary meat on the sides.
Then, I flipped it over, positioning the silver skin between the cutting board and the gizzard, and carefully sliced off the silver skin. I did the same on the other side, cutting it in half. This completed the preparation of one gizzard. I just repeated the process for the rest.
The soft meat and silver skin scraps left over can be boiled and enjoyed with ponzu sauce, so nothing goes to waste.
After finishing the gizzards, it was time for the hearts.
I trimmed away unnecessary parts attached to the heart, like the aorta, connectors, and heart tips.
The important point here is not to remove too much fat.
Cutting off all the fat would make the hearts lose their juiciness, so I had to find the right balance. Holding the meat open with my left hand while cutting made the work more efficient.
However, inserting the knife too deeply could leave cuts, so caution was needed. Also, the rounded part underneath should be left connected, or the cooking would end up uneven.
That butcher probably cut the meat carelessly without this knowledge. Otherwise, the bad taste and unpleasant texture couldn’t be explained.
While taking this care to make the yakitori delicious, I also cut the thighs and neck meat.
Once that was done, the cutting was finished, and it was finally time to skewer.
I started with the skin, planning to do it Fukuoka style.
I had become hooked on this method after trying it once in a past life.
I wrapped the smooth side of the chicken skin outward on the skewer, then pushed a skewer through the opposite end to secure it.
Here, the key is to make the thinner parts near the base smaller, and wrap the thicker parts in the middle. This ensures even cooking.
Even a simple skewer requires attention; surprisingly, it’s a craft with depth.
I repeated this process. It looked tedious, but once you get used to it, it’s actually enjoyable.
“Surprisingly, I made a lot…”
Looking at the skin skewers lined up on the tray, there were ten.
A typical izakaya uses about 30 grams of meat per skewer. I had expected about five skewers’ worth per batch, but the butcher cut them bigger, like at a specialty shop, so I ended up with almost double the number I had anticipated.
“Well, having too many isn’t a problem…”
You can eat as many yakitori as you want, and leftovers can be grilled and eaten the next day.
After the skin came the hearts.
I placed the meat near the front of the cutting board and skewered it.
If you insert the skewer under the thumb holding the meat, it goes through neatly without poking out the back.
Hearts are thin when opened, making them surprisingly tricky to skewer.
A small tip: wrap the meat fully to the tip when skewering. Leaving the tip exposed will cause it to drip and burn easily.
I carefully skewered the second, third, and fourth hearts to the tips.
Once all were skewered, I trimmed the right ends for uniformity. This improves the appearance when cooked.
After the hearts, it was time for negima (chicken and green onion) skewers. Like the skin, I selected smaller pieces for the base.
Pressing the meat while skewering ensures the skin is tight. This makes the finished product juicy.
Skewer a piece of thigh, then green onion, then thigh again, then onion. Negima is complete.
“…What a beautiful arch.”
From the side, the thighs formed a perfect arch, a sign the skin was taut. The elegant silhouette of the negima naturally made me smile.
“Finally, the neck meat.”
I skewered the small leftover pieces from cutting at the base.
Neck meat has lots of tiny fibers, which must be skewered; otherwise small pieces remain and burn when cooking. Skewering correctly also makes it look better.
“The thickness is perfect too.”
Keeping the thickness consistent, like the other skewers, makes cooking easier and improves appearance.
After the neck meat, I carefully skewered the gizzards.
“All done with skewering.”
Placing the last gizzard skewer on the tray, I exhaled.
Before I knew it, lunch time had long passed.
I hadn’t noticed at all, so absorbed was I in preparing the meat and skewering.
I had started prep work suddenly after noon, so it wasn’t going to finish quickly.
Yet, dozens of skewers now lined up before me: ten each of five types, fifty in total. It was quite a spectacle.
Knowing I made them myself brought an incredible sense of achievement.
At a food stall, one skewer costs 100 soro. Fifty skewers would cost 5,000 soro.
But buying and making them myself cost less than half that.
“This is a much better deal.”
I smiled with satisfaction, and my stomach growled.
I felt hunger, having skipped lunch, but wasn’t in the mood to eat.
I was in the middle of preparing rockbird yakitori. I couldn’t think about a break or eating anything else. My stomach was already in yakitori mode.
“Time to continue with grilling.”
It might be evening before I finished if I started grilling now, but that didn’t matter.
I moved under the kitchen vent and set up a rectangular charcoal grill.
“Yakitori has to be charcoal-grilled.”
I arranged the charcoal for even ignition and lit it with a fire-starting magical tool.
I placed a wire mesh on top and put ten skin skewers on it.
First, I grilled them thoroughly to render excess fat. This crisps up the skin.
In Fukuoka, specialty shops repeat this step six times over six days for the skin skewers.
But I’m not a professional, and without special steps, the skin wouldn’t last six days.
So, I opted for a shortcut version.
I carefully grilled the skin skewers over the charcoal.
Grilling in one spot burns them, so I rotated the skewers to change surfaces.
I also swapped skewers between the hotter center and cooler edges to adjust the heat.
It was surprisingly engaging, but since I had taken care of the meat from scratch, it wasn’t troublesome at all. Caring for the meat was fun.
I can’t feel such emotions toward people, but I can toward food.
No matter how much effort you put into someone, humans don’t guarantee reciprocity—and might betray you.
But food rewards effort with deliciousness. Follow proper steps, and it never betrays you.
Perhaps that’s the difference.
As I grilled slowly, fat dripped from the skin, and a savory aroma filled the air.
“Smells amazing.”
After a while, the surface had crisped slightly, so I removed them from the fire to rest.
I’d repeat this five more times.
“The smoke is intense.”
The air in the room had turned slightly whitish.
“…Better ventilate.”
The smell had probably already clung to the room, but it wasn’t too late.
I quickly opened the windows and stepped onto the balcony for fresh air, but the odor persisted.
Lifting my collar to sniff, I realized the smell had fully absorbed into my clothes.
Damn. These were my nicer clothes for going out.
I couldn’t let the smell set any further, so I changed into casual, room-friendly clothes, even if they got dirty.
