Seattle Teriyaki

Seattle-style teriyaki is widely traced to Toshihiro 'Toshi' Kasahara, who emigrated from Ashikaga City, Japan, came to study business in the Pacific Northwest, and opened Toshi's Teriyaki at 372 Roy Street on Lower Queen Anne on March 2, 1976 — generally cited as the first stand-alone teriyaki shop in the country. His thirty-seat counter served a short menu built on chicken and beef brushed with a soy-and-sugar glaze; a rave from Seattle Times critic John Hinterberger sent business soaring, and over the following decades hundreds of imitators opened citywide. In the 1980s Korean American owners took up the format and drove much of its spread, and by the late 1990s teriyaki shops in Seattle reportedly outnumbered McDonald's. The word teriyaki itself joins teri (照り, the luster the sugar glaze gives) and yaki (焼き, grilling), but the Seattle plate-of-rice format is a local American invention.

The chicken should have char — dark, blistered edges from the grill — under a glaze that is glossy and clinging, not soupy. The first bite is sweet, then salty-savory, then a faint bitter-smoky edge from the caramelized sauce hitting the fire. Thigh meat keeps it juicy and a little chewy; the rice underneath soaks up the glaze that runs off. The cabbage cuts the richness. A weak version is pale, steamed-tasting chicken sitting in a puddle of corn-syrupy sauce with no grill flavor at all.

The flavor rests on two reactions happening at once over the grill. The Maillard reaction — between the amino acids in soy sauce and chicken and the reducing sugars in the glaze — builds the deep brown color and roasted, savory complexity, while the sugar itself caramelizes into bitter-sweet, smoky notes; both accelerate sharply above about 150°C, which is why direct high heat and a little surface char matter. The glaze is a reduction of soy sauce, sugar (often brown), and usually a splash of mirin or sake; as water boils off, the sugars concentrate and the sauce thickens and turns glossy. Where Japanese tare stays thin and is built largely on mirin, the Seattle glaze leans on cheap granulated sugar and is frequently finished with a cornstarch slurry, whose gelatinized starch granules thicken the sauce so it clings to the meat instead of running off. Chicken thigh is chosen for its higher fat and connective tissue, which keep it moist through aggressive grilling; the marinade both seasons the meat and, with its sugar, primes the surface to brown faster.