When you visit Miyazaki, Kyushu(usually go by airplane from Tokyo)there is one dish that somehow becomes unavoidable: Chicken nanban.

At first glance, it looks almost suspiciously indulgent: fried chicken, sweet vinegar, and a generous spoonful of tartar sauce. A slightly guilty pleasure on a plate. But once you start, the balance of sweet, sour, and creamy makes perfect sense, and suddenly the plate is empty.

A local person told me something interesting: originally, chicken nanban did not come with tartar sauce. It began as a much simpler dish, and that rich white layer arrived later, as if the recipe itself decided life needed more comfort.

This is actually one of the most requested dishes in my survival cooking class too. People who already know a little about Japanese food often become surprisingly determined when they see it. “I want to learn this one.” It has that effect.

Another memorable Miyazaki moment came at night. From the window of the place I was staying, I suddenly saw flames rising outside and honestly thought, for one brief second, that something was on fire. It turned out to be local chicken being grilled directly over strong fire, part of the region’s very normal evening scene.

Miyazaki Jidori is famous for that direct heat and strong flavor. Even the smoke feels local.

Then there is Obi Castle, where the moat has carp swimming through it with remarkable confidence, as if they have fully accepted their historical importance.

Miyazaki feels open in every direction. The sea is close, the light is bright, and the food never hesitates.