Buri no Teriyaki (鰤の照り焼き, yellowtail teriyaki)

Buri is a winter fish in its best clothes. At its shun, the flesh is firm and rich, with enough clean fat to meet a soy-dark glaze without being buried under it. If the fish in front of you smells strong or looks dull, don't ask the sauce to perform charity. Choose another dish that day. Nothing hidden.

Teriyaki looks more difficult than it is because the finished fish shines like someone has been polishing it with a tiny brush. The method is plain: salt the fish, wipe it dry, sear it first, then glaze it in stages. Dry fish browns. Wet fish steams in its own surface moisture and sulks in the pan, which is not a culinary virtue, however common it is.

The one detail that decides this dish is timing the tare, the glaze. Soy sauce, mirin, sake, and sugar turn glossy as water cooks away, but that same sugar burns if you rush it. Add the sauce after the fish has browned, spoon it over as it thickens, and stop when the bubbles grow slow and shiny. Teriyaki means shine-grilled, not scorched-and-apologized-for.

Serve it with rice, soup, and one quiet vegetable, and the meal is complete. This is washoku by method, not by decoration: a seasonal fish, a restrained sauce, and the discipline to let the surface gleam without hiding the flesh beneath.