Karl Jenkins and the Mystery of the Chicken Teriyaki

There once was a lady fiddling around on the internet, searching for a recipe to introduce her picky boyfriend to delicious Asian cuisine while listening to some tunes on the YouTubes.  While traipsing around on said ‘Tubes, one of her shoelaces was inadvertantly caught upon something foreign.  When she stooped to examine the curious object, she was assaulted—

—by the sweet, sweet vocal stylings of Adimeus and their “Sol-Fa/Song of Aeolus” and “Elegia”, beautiful melodies wrapped around nonsense syllables and tribal beats and tied up with a hint of wilderness.  It was brilliantly stunning and stunningly presented, and, unable to shield her ears from the call, she was swept into a swirling pool of color and recipes for chicken teriyaki.

The voices pulled her in more directions than On-Star, pushing her towards one site, then another, yet another, still another, more sites than memory can provide.  The dish she sought was slightly sweet, a touch sour, deep and savory, but simple enough not to deter the daintiest of eaters; no exotic ingredients like squid ink or dried, fermented oysters, but no manufactured-namby-pamby sauce would do, either.  Her search was widespread and intense, frantic clicks sending vibrations through the desk and the floor to the room below, barely disturbing the surface of the fishbowl on a desk in said sanctum.  The scroll wheel of her mouse developed a cramp and begged to be retired, but she would have none of it, not until she unraveled the mystery of the Chicken Teriyaki.

And then she found it.

The perfect recipe, containing a mere handful of ingredients to craft a sauce of epic proportions, strong by nature but tamed by gentle hands, perfectly suited to envelop bite-sized pieces of tender young bird-flesh.

The food appeared and was promptly devoured.

All in all, a rather good evening.

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