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Chicken and Broccoli —rsquo; The Weeknight Stir-Fry That Feels Like Enough

Halloween in a pandemic is a strange, small thing. The Capitol Hill neighborhood tried ╬ôçö pumpkins on stoops, candy in bags left at the ends of driveways, a few kids in costumes walking with masked parents at careful distances. James carved a pumpkin and made it look like a cat, which I mocked until he pointed out that I had not carved a pumpkin and therefore had no standing to criticize. Fair. I roasted the pumpkin seeds with gochugaru and sesame oil ╬ôçö a compromise between the salted seeds of my Bellevue Halloweens and the Korean flavors I reach for now without thinking. They were addictive. James ate the entire bowl during a horror movie I couldn't watch because I am a twenty-seven-year-old woman who cannot handle jump scares and I have made my peace with this.

Kevin called Tuesday, early, before his shift at Stumptown. He's been officially promoted ╬ôçö head roaster, the title now matching the work he's been doing for months. He told me about the new Ethiopian lot he's roasting, a washed process with jasmine and bergamot notes, and the way he described it ╬ôçö precise, reverent, alive ╬ôçö I could hear the shape of who he's becoming. Not the Kevin who called me from hospitals. Not the Kevin who slept under a bridge in Tacoma at sixteen. This Kevin, the one who wakes up early because he wants to, who has found a craft that asks for his full attention and rewards it with something beautiful. His two-year anniversary is next week. He didn't mention it. I didn't either. But we both knew it was there, the way you know the sun is about to clear the ridge even before you see it.

I spent the week developing a new recipe ╬ôçö dakgalbi, spicy stir-fried chicken with cabbage and sweet potato and rice cakes, the sauce a red river of gochujang and gochugaru and garlic. It's a Chuncheon specialty, street food turned home food, the kind of dish meant to be cooked on a hot plate at the table, shared, communal. I don't have a hot plate so I used the biggest skillet I own and served it over rice with a side of pickled radish. The chicken was tender, the rice cakes chewy, the cabbage charred at the edges in a way that added sweetness to the heat. I made enough for four because I always make enough for four, even though it's just two of us. The leftovers are the point. Leftovers mean there's enough. Leftovers mean abundance, and abundance is never something I take for granted.

The dakgalbi that inspired this week got me thinking about what I reach for when I want that same feeling — something cooked hot and fast in a single pan, something savory and a little bold, something that makes the kitchen smell like a place where good things happen. Chicken and broccoli is that dish for me on the nights when I don’t have rice cakes or gochujang on hand but still need the ritual of a real meal: high heat, a sauce that coats everything, rice underneath to catch what spills. I always make enough for four. The leftovers are the point.

Chicken and Broccoli

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breast, sliced thin against the grain
  • 4 cups broccoli florets (about 1 large head)
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
  • 3 tablespoons soy sauce, divided
  • 2 tablespoons oyster sauce
  • 1/2 cup low-sodium chicken broth
  • 1 tablespoon sesame oil
  • 2 teaspoons cornstarch, divided
  • 1 teaspoon sugar
  • 2 tablespoons neutral oil (such as avocado or vegetable), divided
  • Cooked white rice, for serving
  • Sesame seeds and sliced scallions, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

  1. Marinate the chicken. In a medium bowl, toss sliced chicken with 1 tablespoon soy sauce and 1 teaspoon cornstarch until evenly coated. Set aside for 10 minutes while you prep everything else.
  2. Make the sauce. In a small bowl, whisk together the remaining 2 tablespoons soy sauce, oyster sauce, chicken broth, sesame oil, remaining 1 teaspoon cornstarch, and sugar until smooth. Set aside.
  3. Blanch the broccoli. Bring a medium pot of salted water to a boil. Add broccoli florets and cook 2 minutes until bright green and just tender. Drain and set aside.
  4. Sear the chicken. Heat 1 tablespoon oil in a large skillet or wok over high heat until shimmering. Add chicken in a single layer — work in batches if needed to avoid crowding. Cook 2 to 3 minutes per side until golden and cooked through. Transfer to a plate.
  5. Build the aromatics. Reduce heat to medium-high. Add remaining 1 tablespoon oil to the pan. Add garlic and ginger and cook, stirring constantly, for 30 seconds until fragrant.
  6. Combine and sauce. Return the chicken and broccoli to the pan. Pour the sauce over everything and toss to coat. Cook 1 to 2 minutes, stirring, until the sauce thickens and clings to the chicken and broccoli.
  7. Serve. Spoon over steamed rice and top with sesame seeds and scallions if using. Serve immediately, or store leftovers in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 4 days.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 305 | Protein: 37g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 13g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 810mg

Stephanie Park
About the cook who shared this
Stephanie Park
Week 240 of Stephanie’s 30-year story · Seattle, Washington
Stephanie is a software engineer in Seattle, a new mom, and a Korean-American adoptee who spent twenty-five years not knowing where she came from. She was adopted as an infant by a white family in Bellevue who loved her completely and never cooked Korean food. At twenty-eight, she found her birth mother in Busan — and then she found herself in a kitchen, crying over her first homemade kimchi jjigae, because some things your body remembers even when your mind doesn't.

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