The first half of the word teriyaki 照り焼き is teri, which means shine. The technique is named for the lacquered gleam its sauce gives: soy sauce, mirin and sugar thicken in the heat of the grill and turn the meat into a mirror. Applied to fish in Japan for centuries, the method won its greatest fame abroad with chicken; today, nearly everywhere in the world, teriyaki means chicken first.

The Chicken Roll carries that gleam into the form of sushi. The smoky tenderness of grilled chicken takes a sweet and salty glaze; rice and nori translate it into the counter’s language. There is no raw fish; the formal discipline of sushi stays exactly where it was.

At the heart of Japanese hospitality stands omotenashi, generosity that expects nothing in return, and it has a practical consequence: the table is set for everyone. A guest who keeps a distance from raw fish is not left outside the sushi table; a roll wrapped with the same care is set before them.

Not every road to sushi leads through the sea. This roll is the road of those who come by land, and it ends at the same counter.