【May】The "Chicken Nanban Set Meal"—It Has to Be This One

The breading burst open with a crisp crunch in my mouth.

 

As the sweet and sour Nanban sauce soaked in meat juices mingled with the tartar sauce, rich with the savory scent of eggs, I felt like I was going to cry.

 

This is it; this is the stuff. This is the flavor I’ve been craving.

 

The Chicken Nanban set meal from Yayoi Ken. Near my old office, there was a branch open until midnight, and I used to drop by all the time after working overtime.

 

For me, "real" Chicken Nanban is my grandmother's cooking back in Miyazaki. The sauce is so sweet you’d want to eat it as a snack, and thanks to the salty kick of her homemade mayonnaise, I could eat it forever. Since no chef could possibly reproduce it, I reluctantly wandered Tokyo in search of a substitute. What did I find? That Yayoi Ken was the most delicious. The fact that they use thigh meat was a big plus, too (incidentally, Mom is in the breast meat camp and often argues with Grandma about it).

 

Still, for me, it was always a flavor that made me think, "But this isn't it." ...At least, it was supposed to be.

 

Two years ago, I quit my job and returned home to take over the family business. Now, Grandma's Chicken Nanban is all-you-can-eat. It’s as delicious as ever… that taste I longed for. And yet.

 

Why do I find myself thinking, "This isn't it"?

 

When I’ve worked until I'm utterly exhausted, the flavor I want to shovel down with a beer is that taste from Yayoi Ken. The special tartar sauce with pickles and onions, the side of tofu as a palate cleanser. And finally, the rice topped with pickles and dashi broth to finish the meal. I missed it all so much that I went out of my way to transfer trains just to come eat at Yayoi Ken.

 

But the reason it still feels like something is a little missing is that she isn't here.

 

That colleague of mine who always used to laugh with exasperation, saying, "You sure can eat."

 

Sometimes we’d leave work at the same time and grab a meal at Yayoi Ken. Because she was there, always looking forward with her posture straight and dignified, I managed not to lose heart even when things were tough. But right to the very end, I was never able to voice the wish that she would stay by my side forever.

 

—Though one might think the season has not yet set, in the dwelling where the wisteria blooms, spring lingers long.

 

"It seems spring has ended, but at your home where the wisteria continues to bloom, spring lasts forever." Since learning this waka poem, and what it meant, back in high school, it has strangely stuck with me because I thought it was talking about love.

 

Every time the seasons turn, and every time the wisteria in the garden blooms, feelings that should have ended come back to life.

 

Every time I see a dress in that young-grass green she used to wear, I am taken aback.

 

So, I’ve decided. I’m going to go see her.

 

As I stuff my cheeks with the flavor that, before I knew it, became "the one," I picture her in my mind.

 

If she laughs just like she did back then, surely, my heart will burst open, too.

 

Text: Momo Tachibana Illustration: Mog Hatakeyama