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Hoisin Sriracha Sheet-Pan Chicken — The Roast Chicken That Held Us Together

The stay-at-home advisory. The governor announced it on Sunday and the city contracted overnight. The streets outside our window, which are normally alive with Sunday morning energy, were quiet Monday morning in the way they're quiet at four AM but it was nine o'clock and it wasn't the usual quiet. Sean and I stood at the kitchen window before Liam woke up and looked at the empty street and didn't say anything for a while.

Thirty-nine weeks. The baby could be here any day. The hospital is operating under COVID protocols—full PPE in labor and delivery, one support person only, no other visitors, masks throughout. I know these protocols because I helped write protocols like them two weeks ago. Sean will be there and that's enough. It's enough.

Liam is home. He knows something is different—the street is quiet, we're not going anywhere, Daddy is home working from his phone, the daycare is closed—and he's processing it the way a two-year-old processes: by asking "why" about everything and accepting whatever answer he gets and then asking "why" again. Why is school closed? Because of a sickness. Why is Daddy home? Because of the sickness. Why can't we see Grandma? Because we want to keep Grandma safe. He processes it. He moves on. He is, right now, my model of equanimity.

I made roast chicken on Sunday. The one my mother makes—butter under the skin, salt, patience. I ate it standing at the counter with Liam on the stool next to me and the world outside the window very quiet and the apartment warm and the smell of the chicken the smell of everything being okay even when things are not entirely okay. Some meals are like that.

My mother’s version is butter and salt and time — and I’ll make that one again. But when I finally got the energy to cook again after those first surreal weeks, I wanted something with a little more heat to it, something that matched the complicated feeling underneath the calm I was performing for Liam. This hoisin sriracha sheet-pan chicken does exactly that: it’s still a roast, still that same hands-off patience, still the smell of everything being okay filling the apartment — just with a glaze that has a little fire in it.

Hoisin Sriracha Sheet-Pan Chicken

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 55 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 2 1/2 lbs bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs and drumsticks (about 4–6 pieces)
  • 3 tablespoons hoisin sauce
  • 1 1/2 tablespoons sriracha
  • 1 tablespoon soy sauce
  • 1 tablespoon sesame oil
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
  • 1 tablespoon honey
  • 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
  • 2 scallions, thinly sliced, for garnish
  • 1 teaspoon sesame seeds, for garnish

Instructions

  1. Preheat. Heat the oven to 425°F. Line a large rimmed sheet pan with foil and lightly grease with vegetable oil.
  2. Make the glaze. In a small bowl, whisk together hoisin sauce, sriracha, soy sauce, sesame oil, garlic, ginger, honey, and black pepper until smooth.
  3. Coat the chicken. Pat chicken pieces dry with paper towels and arrange skin-side up on the prepared pan. Spoon or brush about half the glaze generously over the chicken, reserving the rest.
  4. Roast. Roast for 25 minutes, then pull the pan out and brush the remaining glaze over the chicken. Return to the oven and roast another 15–20 minutes, until the skin is caramelized and the internal temperature reaches 165°F.
  5. Rest and garnish. Let the chicken rest on the pan for 5 minutes. Scatter scallions and sesame seeds over the top before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 410 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 24g | Carbs: 12g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 680mg

Kate Donovan
About the cook who shared this
Kate Donovan
Week 208 of Kate’s 30-year story · Boston, Massachusetts
Kate is a thirty-five-year-old nurse practitioner in Boston and a widowed mother of two whose husband Sean died of brain cancer at thirty-three. She makes Irish soda bread and beef stew and shepherd's pie because the recipes are all she has left of a man who was supposed to grow old with her. She writes about cooking through grief and finding out you can still feed your children on the worst day of your life.

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