Geric Plankton
With a mix of disappointment and anticipation, I continued to check the weather forecast, but my expression remained unchanged. The weather was getting worse day by day. When I landed at Fukuoka Airport in the evening, the atmosphere outside was filled with rain and humidity. I hurriedly boarded the subway, changed from the Fukuoka Airport Line to the new Nanakuma Line at Hakata Station, and headed to Yakuin-Oodori Station. The shop I was aiming for was called "Torikawa Suikyo." I had decided to revisit this shop to overwrite the sad memory of waiting in the cold last year, only to be told that there were only 10 pieces of torikawa left as I was about to enter, following a group of Korean tourists. As I approached the exit of Yakuin-Oodori Station, a humid and hot wind reminiscent of Southeast Asia licked my whole body. It seemed like it was about to start raining. The climate in this country no longer has four seasons, and I couldn't help but think it would be better to change it to a rainy season and a dry season. I made my way through the streets lined with mixed-use buildings and apartments. It was still not dark, but large red lanterns stood as if waiting for me. Were they customers waiting to enter the shop? There seemed to be only one man smoking a cigarette. Other than that, there was no one in sight, and I nervously entered the empty counter seats. I ordered a draft beer and looked through the menu. Of course, the "specialty torikawa" (180 yen per skewer) was the obvious choice. The lineup of torikawa, meticulously grilled, stimulated a subtle but intense appetite with its firm texture and unique sweet sauce flavor. The specialty Motsu skewers from Bibai City in Hokkaido would likely be ordered in quantities of 20 or 30 by local Fukuoka residents. I started with an order of 10 torikawa skewers. As I crunched on the cabbage appetizer, torikawa suddenly appeared in front of me and was placed on a plate. Although it didn't look like yakitori at first glance, when I brought it to my mouth, the firm, charred, oil-free texture and the unique sweet sauce flavor overwhelmed me. With a beer in one hand, I already had a new skewer in the other, eating the torikawa that clung to it. However, I had no intention of just focusing on torikawa because it was a torikawa shop. Along with another draft beer, I chose the recommended menu items "Soft Bone Meatballs" (190 yen), "Thick Fried Tofu" (380 yen), and "Sasami Shigi Yaki" (290 yen). The salaryman sitting to my right spoke in a cheerful tone, but I couldn't grasp whether he had a Kansai accent or a Kyushu accent. On the other hand, the female customer sitting at the far end on the left silently savored the torikawa and poured her own beer. Despite being familiar with the city, there was a sense of something different in the air. As my refill of draft beer ran out and I switched to a highball, the soft bone meatballs arrived. The small fist-sized meatballs lay in a rigid posture, as if to show off their presence. Eating the meatballs without adding anything, the unique texture of the soft bones resonated in my jaw. But as the meat crumbled like it was falling apart, a huge amount of heat dominated my throat, and I involuntarily used the highball to cool down. It had a satisfying eating experience, as expected from a recommended menu item. Just as I thought that, the thick fried tofu arrived. Its presence was as unwavering as the soft bone meatballs, and it attacked with a solid surface and a gentle interior, accompanied by the sauce. I poured a highball into my slightly sweaty body and sought more. A sense of satisfaction slowly crept in, although I wouldn't say I was full. The content of the summer in Kyushu, which was about to be hit by heavy rain, was =====.