Miso Butter Roasted Chicken

Year four begins quietly. The cherry blossoms return to Capitol Hill, pink confetti on the same streets where I walked three years ago not knowing how to make rice. Now I walk through them as a woman who makes kimchi from scratch, speaks intermediate Korean, has been to Korea, has found her birth mother, attends monthly adoptee meetups, and teaches kimchi to other adoptees. The blossoms are the same. I am not. The differential is three years of cooking and therapy and the patient, persistent work of becoming.

This week I signed up for a Seattle Asian Americans in Tech meetup that Sujin mentioned. The event is Thursday at a co-working space in South Lake Union. Sujin says the crowd is mixed — engineers, PMs, designers, founders — and overwhelmingly Asian-American, which means a room where my face is the norm. The prospect of being in a room full of people who understand the model minority thing, the between-two-cultures thing, the chopstick-proficiency-as-identity thing, is compelling enough to overcome my natural introversion. I am going. I am wearing my Korean earrings from Insadong.

Dr. Yoon and I discussed what I want from the meetup. Not networking (I have a job). Not career advice (I have a career). Connection. The specific connection of being in a room with people who speak the language of between. She said, "You have spent three years building the Korean. Now you are ready to share it." Ready to share. Ready to be seen. Ready to walk into a room as the Korean-American woman I built and let the room see her.

This week I cooked the Korean weeknight rotation: Monday kimchi jjigae, Tuesday doenjang jjigae, Wednesday bulgogi, Thursday bibimbap. The rotation runs itself now, automatic, the way breathing runs itself. The cooking is not a project anymore. It is a practice — daily, integrated, mine.

Saturday: Bellevue. Karen made pot roast. I brought japchae. The eternal exchange, the weekly ritual, the Saturday that holds everything. Karen asked about the meetup and I said, "Thursday. I am going to a room full of Asian-American tech workers." She said, "Wear something nice." I said, "I am wearing my Insadong earrings." She said, "Perfect." Karen, advising on accessories for a Korean identity event. Three years ago she did not know what Insadong was. The world has changed, David said once. The world keeps changing.

The weeknight rotation runs itself now—that’s the thing I keep returning to. But Saturday at Karen’s, after the japchae was on the table and she was asking about Thursday’s meetup, I thought about what I’d make when I got home—something that lives in the space between the two kitchens I belong to. Miso butter roasted chicken is that dish: it starts with the fermented depth that pulls me toward Korea and finishes with the kind of simple, golden comfort that has always meant home in Karen’s house. It is a meal for a woman who is ready to be seen, which, as Dr. Yoon would say, is exactly where I am.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 1 hr 15 min | Total Time: 1 hr 30 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 whole chicken (3 1/2 to 4 lbs), patted dry
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
2 tablespoons white (shiro) miso paste
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 tablespoon honey
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon sesame oil
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon grated fresh ginger
1 lemon, halved
4 sprigs fresh thyme
1 tablespoon neutral oil (such as grapeseed or avocado oil)
Flaky sea salt, to finish

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Heat oven to 425°F (220°C). Let the chicken sit at room temperature for 20 minutes while you prepare the miso butter.
Make the miso butter. In a small bowl, mix together the softened butter, miso paste, soy sauce, honey, garlic, sesame oil, black pepper, and grated ginger until smooth and fully combined.
Butter the chicken. Place the chicken breast-side up in a roasting pan or cast iron skillet. Using your fingers, gently loosen the skin over the breast and thighs. Push half the miso butter directly under the skin and spread evenly. Rub the remaining miso butter all over the outside of the chicken. Brush the skin lightly with neutral oil to encourage browning.
Stuff and season. Squeeze one lemon half into the cavity and tuck both halves inside along with the thyme sprigs. Sprinkle flaky sea salt over the exterior.
Roast. Roast for 60 to 75 minutes, or until the skin is deep golden brown and the thickest part of the thigh reads 165°F (74°C) on an instant-read thermometer. If the skin browns too quickly, tent loosely with foil after 45 minutes.
Rest and serve. Remove from the oven and let the chicken rest uncovered for 10 minutes before carving. Spoon any pan juices over the pieces before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Miso Butter Roasted Chicken — The Week Before the Room Full of People Who Understand