Yakitori Sunagimo (砂肝, chicken gizzard)

Sunagimo scares people before it ever touches the grill. It is an organ, and the English word gizzard sounds as if it arrived wearing boots. Fine. Name the hesitation and it shrinks. This skewer asks for no disguise: trim cleanly, salt plainly, and grill close enough to the coals that the outside crisps while the center keeps its spring.

The cut decides it. A chicken gizzard is the bird's little mill, a firm muscle made to grind, so tenderness in the soft sense is not the goal. We want a clean crunch, a lively bounce under the teeth, then salt and lemon. Remove the pale membrane and any yellow lining because they will never become pleasant; keep the dark red lobes because that is the honmono bite.

At a yakitori table, sunagimo usually comes shio, with salt, not tare. There is nothing hidden and no sauce doing rescue work. Dry the pieces well, score the thick side just enough, and turn them often over clean charcoal. The one detail to watch is timing: pull them the moment they are cooked through and still springy. Leave them too long and they punish you for gossiping.