Jeongi-gui Tongdak (Korean Rotisserie Whole Chicken)

Tongdak does not always mean fried chicken. Before the sauced boxes and the phone orders, there was the electric cabinet at the market, small chickens turning in a row while the fat fell away and the skin tightened. A child did not need a signboard. The smell found you first.

Master Seong-nyeo was not sentimental about modern food. If people ate it, she made me write it down. Notebook 52 says the bird must be small, the salt must be measured, and the skin must be dry before it sees the fire. That is the whole dish. No gochujang. No sweet glaze. Pepper-salt at the table, pickled radish on the side, and enough restraint to let the chicken taste like chicken.

The old shop had a turning spit. Your oven has a rack, and that is enough if you respect the method. 시대가 바뀌면 음식도 바뀌어야 해요 (when times change, food must change too). The safe corner to cut is the machine, not the salting, drying, trussing, or checking the temperature. Tonight this asks for patience more than skill: dry the skin, roast the bird evenly, rest it uncovered, then bring it to the table before anyone starts pretending they are not hungry.