Ebi no Tempura (海老の天ぷら)

Tempura frightens people because the good ones look weightless. They imagine a secret hand. There is one, but it's a small secret: cold batter meets hot oil, and the shrimp leaves before the crust has time to grow heavy.

Ebi no tempura is a dish of restraint. The batter is barely mixed, lumpy on purpose. Mix it smooth and you wake the flour's gluten, which gives you bread rather than lace. Keep it cold and loose, and the hot oil sets it at once, making those fine ragged edges we like.

Begin with the shrimp, not the bowl of batter. Use firm, sweet shrimp that smell clean, never sharp or tired. The little cuts across the belly are not vanity. Shrimp curls because the muscle tightens in hot oil, and those cuts let it lie long enough for the batter to set evenly. Scrape the water from the tail, too, unless you enjoy being scolded by hot oil.

At the table, tempura should not wait politely in a heap. Fry in small batches and serve as each piece is ready, with tentsuyu, the dashi-soy dipping broth, and grated daikon. This is honmono made reachable: no heavy sauce, no disguise, only a good shrimp, a clean stock, and timing you can learn in one careful evening.