Aji Fry (アジフライ, panko-fried horse mackerel)

People hesitate over aji fry because it begins as a whole fish, silver, bright-eyed, and a little accusatory on the board. Good. It should look alive enough to make you pay attention. In early summer, when ma-aji is at its prime, this dish asks for very little beyond freshness, a clean butterfly cut, and oil held steady. Not difficult, just unfamiliar with a tail.

The one detail that decides it is dryness. Salt the opened fish briefly, wipe away the beads of moisture, then give it flour, egg, and panko in a thin coat. Water makes breading slide and oil sulk; a dry surface lets panko stand up in little ragged edges. Those edges are why aji fry feels light instead of armored.

We fry it quickly because aji is small. Long cooking would punish the sweet flesh for the sake of the crust, which is poor manners. At the right heat, the panko browns just as the fish turns opaque at the hinge. If you saved the center bone, fry it separately until it snaps crisp; if it bends, it isn't food yet.

At the table, aji fry belongs to the teishoku rhythm: rice, miso soup, shredded cabbage, lemon, and a dark slosh of tonkatsu sauce. Don't drown it. The sauce is a companion, not a disguise. When the fish is glistening fresh, honmono needs less hiding than people think.