Asia’s grilling culture is deep, delicious and anything but basic
In Asia, grilling isn’t just about placing meat over flames. It’s ancestral, ceremonial, improvisational. From cumin-dusted lamb skewers sizzling on the streets of Xinjiang to miniature hibachi flames in Tokyo coaxing the soul from a sardine, grill culture across Asia is anything but monolithic, involving fire pits, wire baskets, clay ovens, cast-iron grates and even banana leaves folded into heat domes.
What ties them together isn’t technique, but intimacy. Unlike the Western backyard barbecue, which prizes size and spectacle, Asian grill traditions often honour subtlety: texture, seasoning, smoke density, even the source of charcoal. Every country has its own philosophy on fat, heat and char. Often, there are religious or cultural rules about what belongs on the flame. Some grill with elegance; others with unapologetic chaos. Either way, it’s sensory theatre—and the stories aren’t just in the sear, but in the way they’re served: with bare hands, banana leaves or beer in a plastic stool alley at midnight.
Here’s a flavourful journey through Asia’s diverse grilling traditions.
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The grill is the table in Korea
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No country turns grilling into high drama quite like South Korea. At a proper samgyeopsal joint, the sizzle is your soundtrack and the banchan (side dishes) are supporting cast. Pork belly hits the grate alongside garlic, kimchi and bean sprouts—cooked and eaten all at once. The climax? The lettuce wrap: edible origami folded with rice, ssamjang, meat and whatever extras you can tuck in before the leaf gives out.
Outdoor grilling is just as compelling. In coastal Sokcho, grilled mackerel and squid come straight from the boat. In Andong, soy-grilled chicken legs—quietly served in jjimdak shops—are a local gem in their own right.
Celebrate satay and smoke in Indonesia
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Satay may be the global poster child of Indonesian grilling, but it’s just one chapter. Across Java and Bali, skewers of marinated meat—infused with sweet soy, galangal and lemongrass—are grilled over coconut shell embers. The glaze turns caramel-fragrant and sticky before it even hits your plate.
Regional spins deepen the story. Bali’s sate lilit wraps spiced minced meat around lemongrass stalks. Padang satay is rich with curry-like sauces. And wherever there’s smoke, there’s likely a roadside clay brazier.
See more: The best satay in Malaysia, according to chefs
In India, there’s tandoor, fire and showmanship
India’s grill culture revolves around one holy oven: the tandoor. Clay-lined, cylindrical and ancient, this upright inferno is the original vertical grill. Skewers of marinated meat, such as Punjabi tandoori chicken, steeped in yogurt, lime and a riot of spices, are lowered into its fiery depths, emerging smoky-red and blistered. Seekh kebabs, spiced minced lamb shaped onto metal rods, come out singing with garam masala, their char as important as their tenderness. It’s not grilling in the Western grate-and-flip sense, but tandoori cooking relies on the same principles: high heat fire, and a kiss of smoke. Vertical, earthen grilling, if you may.
But the story doesn’t end with the tandoor. Across the subcontinent, India’s streets crackle with coal-fired ingenuity. In Goa, choris sausages (descended from the Portuguese chouriço) sizzle over open coals, dripping spice-laced fat that fuels the flame. In Lucknow, kebabs roast on portable coal stoves called angithi that line the lanes like culinary lanterns. Whether it’s the controlled intensity of the tandoor or the chaotic romance of a roadside grill, India knows that good fire makes unforgettable food.
Enjoy China’s skewers, smokers and shaokao
China’s grill culture is massive, regional and wild. In the chilly cities of the northeast, you’ll find shaokao stalls braving the cold with lamb skewers dusted in cumin and chili flakes. Xinjiang’s Uyghur communities perfected these smoky sticks long before they showed up in Beijing’s nightlife.
Meanwhile, Sichuan brings the heat, both thermally and spice-wise. Here, skewers swim in chili oil or are grilled over open flame. Coastal towns offer butterflied squid grilled whole. Even tofu isn’t spared, smoked and charred until it mimics meat in all the right ways.
Char and chaos meet in Thailand barbecues
Walk through a night market in Chiang Mai and you’ll inhale grilling smoke long before you see the skewers. Thai grilling is fast, hot and never shy. Moo ping skewers are pork caramelised in coconut milk and fish sauce. Gai yang is chicken split butterfly-style and grilled flat over charcoal, served with sticky rice and sharp, sour jeow sauce.
The north and northeast regions go deeper: sai ua, the herbaceous sausage packed with lemongrass and chilies or grilled sticky rice wrapped in banana leaves, charred outside, chewy inside. It’s meat-and-rice alchemy.
Grilling means street culture in the Philippines
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You haven’t truly experienced everyday Filipino life until you’ve navigated a smoky sidestreet at dusk, fingers greasy with barbecued chicken or pork meat or offal. The national grill lexicon is vast, with regional specialties that include Bacolod’s inasal—chicken marinated in calamansi, lemongrass and achuete—and Cebu’s lechon belly, skin blistered to a glassy crisp.
And then there’s ihaw-ihaw, which is just the generic word for all sorts of grills. But ask for it, and you will be sent to the roadside stalls that appear like mushrooms after a rain, selling everything from mundane meats (the aforementioned pork and chicken skewers, as well as all kinds of sausages) to distinctively Pinoy delicacies (chicken or pork intestines, pig ears and cakes of coagulated blood playfully called “betamax” because of their blocky shape).
In Japan, grilling means precision, smoke and a little bit of theatre
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If Korea is a food opera, Japan is kabuki. Yakitori, yakiniku, robatayaki—grill culture here is both minimalist and highly codified. At a yakitori bar, you’re not just ordering chicken; you’re ordering cartilage, liver, tail, skin. Each skewer gets a different heat zone. Each bite, a culinary haiku.
Meanwhile, robata-style dining channels fishing village hearths, where chefs grill over charcoal on raised platforms. Expect everything from eggplant to whole sweetfish, called ayu, glazed in miso. And in Osaka, where no flavour is left behind, street stalls torch beef tendon skewers into smoky perfection.
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