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Tam To Korean Spicy Braised Chicken — The Fire That Keeps Burning

The Bayou City BBQ Festival. Solo entry. Brisket category. Sixty-eight teams. Setup Friday night. Fire lit at 1 AM Saturday. The brisket — an eighteen-pound prime packer, the best piece of beef I've ever trimmed — went on at 1:30 AM. Fish sauce marinade. Post oak with cherry. Fusion rub. The lemongrass finishing butter waited in the cooler. Emma was my assistant again. She ran the prep station, managed the cooler temps, and timed my spritzes. At 5 AM she fell asleep in the truck. At 7 AM she woke up and immediately checked the brisket temp. "171 internal. We're on track." She'd been dreaming in temperatures. The butter went on at noon. The bark was already magnificent — dark, tight, peppered with the crystallized fish sauce that makes my brisket look different from everyone else's. The butter melted into the surface and created a sheen that caught the light. Pulled at 1 PM. 203 internal. Perfect probe tender — the thermometer slid in like a hot knife through room-temperature butter. Rested in a cooler for ninety minutes. Turn-in at 3 PM. Six slices. Each one a cross-section of everything I know: the smoke ring from the fire, the bark from the rub and marinade, the moisture from the wrap, the richness from the butter. Emma arranged them in the box with the precision of someone arranging jewelry. Results at 6 PM. They read tenth through sixth. Not us. Fifth. Not us. Fourth. Not us. Third: a team from Katy. Second: the Lockhart team. My nemesis. First place: Bobby Tran BBQ. First place. Emma grabbed my arm and I grabbed hers and we stood in a parking lot in Houston and the announcer said my name and I walked up to a folding table and accepted a trophy that was bigger than the Pearland one and I held it and thought about Mr. Clarence and Ma and Huy and the shrimp boats and the kitchen floor and the La Croix and the fish sauce and the fire I've been tending for twenty years. First place. The fish sauce brisket. The half-Vietnamese shrimp boat dropout's fusion rub. They chose mine. Emma took a photo. I'm holding the trophy and grinning and the smoker is behind me and if you look closely, in my left hand, I'm holding a can of La Croix. I beat Lockhart. I beat everybody. The fire kept burning. And today it burned the brightest.

After a night like that — after holding that trophy and thinking about Ma and the shrimp boats and twenty years of fire — you don’t want to cook something quiet. The dish I keep coming back to when I need to feel that same convergence of heat and patience and layered flavor is this Korean spicy braised chicken. It’s not brisket, but it’s cut from the same cloth: bold umami backbone, a slow build of spice, and the kind of depth that only comes when you stop being afraid to put something unexpected in the pot. Emma makes me cook this whenever she visits. She says it tastes like winning.

Tam To Korean Spicy Braised Chicken

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 50 min | Total Time: 1 hr 10 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 3 lbs bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs and drumsticks
  • 3 tablespoons gochujang (Korean red pepper paste)
  • 2 tablespoons soy sauce
  • 1 tablespoon fish sauce
  • 1 tablespoon sesame oil
  • 1 tablespoon rice wine or dry sherry
  • 1 tablespoon brown sugar
  • 6 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
  • 1/2 cup chicken broth
  • 2 medium Yukon gold potatoes, cut into 1-inch chunks
  • 1 large carrot, sliced into 1/2-inch rounds
  • 1/2 yellow onion, cut into wedges
  • 2 teaspoons neutral oil (vegetable or avocado)
  • 3 green onions, sliced, for garnish
  • 1 teaspoon toasted sesame seeds, for garnish
  • Steamed white rice, for serving

Instructions

  1. Make the braising sauce. In a bowl, whisk together the gochujang, soy sauce, fish sauce, sesame oil, rice wine, brown sugar, garlic, and ginger until smooth. Set aside.
  2. Sear the chicken. Heat neutral oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Pat chicken pieces dry and sear skin-side down for 4–5 minutes until golden. Flip and sear another 2 minutes. Remove chicken and set aside. Pour off all but 1 tablespoon of fat.
  3. Soften the aromatics. Reduce heat to medium. Add onion wedges to the pot and cook 2–3 minutes, stirring occasionally, until they begin to soften and pick up some color.
  4. Build the braise. Return chicken to the pot. Pour the braising sauce over the chicken, then add chicken broth. Stir gently to coat everything. Nestle in the potato chunks and carrot rounds around the chicken pieces.
  5. Braise low and slow. Bring to a gentle boil, then reduce heat to medium-low. Cover and cook 35 minutes, turning chicken once halfway through, until chicken is cooked through and potatoes are fork-tender.
  6. Reduce and glaze. Uncover the pot, increase heat to medium, and cook an additional 8–10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the sauce reduces into a thick, glossy glaze that coats the chicken and vegetables.
  7. Rest and garnish. Remove from heat and let rest 5 minutes. Taste and adjust salt if needed. Transfer to a serving dish and top with sliced green onions and toasted sesame seeds.
  8. Serve. Spoon generously over steamed white rice, making sure to ladle plenty of that braising glaze over each bowl.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 520 | Protein: 42g | Fat: 24g | Carbs: 28g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 980mg

Bobby Tran
About the cook who shared this
Bobby Tran
Week 160 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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