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Baked Honey Sesame Chicken — The Dark and Glossy Dish That Brings Us Back to the Table

Tet. Year of the Dog. February 16, 2018. Ma's house. The altar is set: incense, fruit, Huy's photo, the ancestors' photos. The banana leaf rolls of banh tet are stacked like cordwood. The spring rolls are made — two hundred of them, because Ma doesn't understand the concept of "enough." The thit kho is in the pot, dark and glossy. The house smells like a temple and a kitchen had a baby. All three kids came. Tyler drove himself — the Civic now has a "Texans" bumper sticker and a pine air freshener, both of which I find objectionable but it's his car. Emma came in her ao dai — a traditional Vietnamese dress I bought her last year. She looks beautiful in it, tall and graceful, and she wears it without self-consciousness, which at fourteen is remarkable. Lily wore a red dress because Ma told her red is lucky and Lily takes Ma's fashion advice with the seriousness of papal decree. The red envelopes: Ma gave each kid $50. I gave each kid $20. The math doesn't work in my favor. Ma said, "Grandmothers give more. That's the rule." There is no such rule. Ma invented it. I don't argue with Mai Tran's invented rules. We ate for three hours. The banh tet I helped make was on the table alongside Ma's — they were visibly different. Hers: tight, cylindrical, perfectly wrapped. Mine: lumpy, slightly lopsided, wrapped with the confidence of someone who's done it twice. Lily pointed this out. "Dad, yours looks funny." Ma said, "It tastes the same." This is the closest thing to a compliment Ma has ever given my wrapping technique. After dinner, Ma told stories again. Not the boat this time — the before. Tet in Saigon in the 1960s, before the war changed everything. The flower market on Nguyen Hue Boulevard. The firecrackers that went on for hours. Her mother's kitchen, full of women cooking and talking and laughing. Her father reading the newspaper in his chair. She described her mother's banh tet — the recipe she's been making for fifty years, passed down from a woman she never saw again after 1975. When Ma makes banh tet, she's not making rice cakes. She's rebuilding her mother's kitchen in a house in Houston, one banana leaf at a time. Tyler listened. Emma wrote in her notebook. Lily held Ma's hand. I sat at the table and watched my mother give my children something no school can teach: a history that lives in food. Chuc mung nam moi. Again. Always.

I’ll never wrap banh tet as well as Ma, and I’ve accepted that. But watching that pot of thit kho — dark, glossy, almost lacquered — sitting on her stove all afternoon, I kept thinking about what makes a dish feel like a ceremony. It’s the glaze. The patience. The way the sauce reduces into something that coats everything it touches and refuses to let go. This baked honey sesame chicken isn’t thit kho — Ma would laugh if I called it that — but it chases the same thing: that deep, sweet, sticky finish that makes a table go quiet for a few minutes before the stories start again.

Baked Honey Sesame Chicken

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 4–6

Ingredients

  • 2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into 2-inch pieces
  • 1/3 cup honey
  • 1/4 cup low-sodium soy sauce
  • 2 tablespoons sesame oil
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
  • 1 tablespoon rice vinegar
  • 2 tablespoons cornstarch
  • 1 tablespoon neutral oil (vegetable or avocado)
  • 1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
  • 2 tablespoons sesame seeds, for garnish
  • 3 green onions, thinly sliced, for garnish
  • Cooked white rice, for serving

Instructions

  1. Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 400°F. Line a 9x13-inch baking dish with foil and lightly grease it with neutral oil.
  2. Make the glaze. In a medium bowl, whisk together the honey, soy sauce, sesame oil, garlic, ginger, rice vinegar, and red pepper flakes (if using) until fully combined.
  3. Coat the chicken. Toss the chicken pieces with cornstarch until lightly coated, then arrange them in a single layer in the prepared baking dish. Pour the glaze evenly over the top.
  4. Bake. Bake uncovered for 25 minutes. Remove the pan, spoon the accumulated sauce over the chicken, then return to the oven for another 8–10 minutes until the glaze is dark, thick, and beginning to caramelize at the edges and the chicken is cooked through (internal temp 165°F).
  5. Rest and glaze again. Let the chicken rest in the pan for 5 minutes. The sauce will tighten further as it cools slightly — spoon it over the pieces one more time before serving.
  6. Garnish and serve. Sprinkle generously with sesame seeds and sliced green onions. Serve over steamed white rice with extra pan sauce spooned over the top.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 27g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 21g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 620mg

Bobby Tran
About the cook who shared this
Bobby Tran
Week 98 of Bobby’s 30-year story · Houston, Texas
Bobby Tran was born in a refugee camp in Arkansas to parents who fled Saigon with nothing. He grew up in Houston straddling two worlds — Vietnamese at home, Texan everywhere else — and learned to cook from his mother's pho and a neighbor's BBQ smoker. He's a former shrimper, a recovering alcoholic, a divorced dad of three, and the guy who marinates brisket in fish sauce and lemongrass because he doesn't believe in borders, especially when it comes to flavor.

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