Gooey Ginger Chicken

The Fourth of July came and went, and I did not celebrate it and I did not ignore it. I occupied it the way I occupy most things now — partially, with one foot in the present and one foot in the past, balancing between the life I am living and the life I lived before March 3rd. Calvin suggested a quiet dinner. I made baked chicken and coleslaw and fresh corn from the farmers market and we ate on the back porch and we did not mention the cookouts of years past, the ribs, the fireworks, the boy in the backyard with his cousins. We did not mention him. We did not need to. He was at the table. He is always at the table.

CJ came for the weekend. He looked tired but whole, the kind of tired that comes from working through grief without stopping, which is how CJ grieves — by working, by moving, by refusing to sit still long enough for the sadness to catch him. I fed him. I fed him the way I feed everyone — generously, silently, with the understanding that food is my language and my son speaks it fluently. He ate fried chicken and mac and cheese and cornbread and I watched him eat and thought about the other son, the one who ate faster and laughed louder and asked for seconds before his first plate was clean, and the thinking was a knife but I let it cut because the alternative is not thinking about Marcus, and not thinking about Marcus is not an option. I will think about him every day until my last day. The thinking is the honoring. The pain is the proof that he was real.

Destiny called Saturday and asked if she could come home next weekend to cook with me. She said she wants to learn Mama's cornbread. She said she wants to learn the collard greens. She said she wants to learn all of it, everything, every recipe, because — and she paused here, and the pause was heavy — because somebody needs to know. Somebody needs to carry the recipes. Somebody needs to stand at the stove after I cannot stand at the stove anymore. She did not say the rest. She did not say: because Marcus was supposed to learn. She did not say: because the future Loretta Simms planned included a son at Tuskegee who would come home on holidays and eat her cooking and eventually bring his own children to the table. She did not say any of that. She said somebody needs to know. I said yes, baby. Come home. I will teach you.

The teaching is the next thing. The teaching is how the recipes survive. The teaching is how Marcus stays alive — not in a body, but in a taste, in a technique, in the way Destiny will one day crack an egg with one hand the way I crack an egg, the way Mama cracks an egg, the way the women in this family have been cracking eggs since before any of us can remember. The lineage continues. The food continues. The love continues. Even when the boy does not.

When CJ came that weekend, I did not think about what to make — I thought about him, and the food followed. This gooey ginger chicken is the kind of dish that asks nothing of the person eating it except that they sit down and let you take care of them for a little while. The glaze goes sticky and dark in the oven, and it smells like effort, like intention, like somebody planned this for you — because somebody did. I have made this more times than I can count in the last several months, and every time I slide it out of the oven I think: this is what I have to give. It is enough. It has to be enough.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 50 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 5 minutes | Servings: 4–6

Ingredients

3 lbs bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs and drumsticks (about 6–8 pieces)
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1 tablespoon neutral oil (vegetable or canola)
1/3 cup low-sodium soy sauce
1/4 cup honey
2 tablespoons light brown sugar, packed
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, finely grated (about a 1-inch knob)
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon cornstarch
2 tablespoons cold water
3 green onions, thinly sliced, for serving
Sesame seeds, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 400°F. Pat the chicken pieces completely dry with paper towels — this is what gets you crisp skin. Season all over with salt, pepper, and garlic powder.
Sear the chicken. Heat the neutral oil in a large oven-safe skillet or cast iron pan over medium-high heat. Place the chicken skin-side down and sear without moving it for 5–6 minutes, until the skin is golden and releases easily from the pan. Flip and sear the other side for 3 minutes. Transfer chicken to a plate and set aside. Pour off all but about 1 tablespoon of fat from the pan.
Build the glaze. Reduce heat to medium. Add the minced garlic and grated ginger to the same pan and stir constantly for about 60 seconds until fragrant. Pour in the soy sauce, honey, brown sugar, apple cider vinegar, and sesame oil. Stir to combine and bring to a gentle simmer, about 2 minutes.
Thicken the sauce. In a small bowl, whisk the cornstarch and cold water together until smooth. Pour into the simmering sauce and stir immediately. Cook for 1–2 minutes until the glaze thickens and turns glossy. Remove from heat.
Coat and bake. Return the chicken to the skillet, skin-side up. Spoon the glaze generously over each piece, making sure to coat the tops well. Transfer the skillet to the oven and bake for 30 minutes.
Glaze again and finish. Remove the pan from the oven. Spoon the pooled glaze from the bottom of the pan back over each piece of chicken. Return to the oven for another 10–15 minutes, until the glaze is deep, sticky, and caramelized and the internal temperature of the thickest piece reads 165°F.
Rest and serve. Let the chicken rest in the pan for 5 minutes before serving. Spoon any remaining glaze over the top, then scatter with sliced green onions and sesame seeds if using. Serve over white rice or alongside cornbread to catch every drop of the sauce.

Nutrition (per serving)

Gooey Ginger Chicken — The Recipe That Carried Us Through