Truck Chicken

The siren call of fried chicken!

We were in the Roppongi Hills shopping complex, minding our own business, actually planning a modest picnic of our own (rice balls, edamame, no big). I saw some food trucks, so I did the stroll-by, just sort of sniffing the air. It turned out the om-rice truck (omelet filled with rice--I know!) was doing a brisk business in boneless fried chicken thighs sprinkled with Japanese sea salt, you know, the fancy sea salt that looks a bit like dirty beach sand but tastes extra briny.

Check out the hip daddy-o waiting on his chicken and om-rice.

The thigh meat is sort of flattened out, which solves the centuries old conundrum of the uneven crispy coating to juicy meat ratio.  Science, people. Science. It was piping hot, and the crust was somewhere between the lightness of tempura and the crunch of southern fried chicken which eludes me in my own kitchen.

I only regret that I don't know where this truck is at all times. Though maybe that's best.