The Japanese call fried chicken karaage 唐揚げ. The first kanji, kara 唐, is the name of the Tang dynasty, China’s golden age; the word translates roughly as Tang-style frying. Japan wrote its debt into the very name of its favorite fried dish: the technique came from China.

But like every idea that arrives on the islands, this one was rewritten there. The secret of karaage is not the frying but the wait before it: the meat rests in a bath of soy sauce, ginger, sake and garlic, so the flavor settles into the flesh rather than the coating. The crust is thin, mostly starch; the point is not to eat batter but to hear the chicken itself. Karaage entered restaurant menus in the 1920s, spread nationwide in the postwar years as chicken farming grew, and became the standing cheer of izakaya tables.

Today Japan has associations devoted to karaage; every year the country’s best karaage makers compete, and the results make the newspapers. That much seriousness around a fried dish can only be a measure of love.

Our crispy chicken is that tradition stretched to the Mediterranean: a short, honest crackle outside, juicy and well-rested meat within.