Asian Chicken Thighs

Late July. The heat of Seattle summer — rare, celebrated, the whole city outdoors. James and I went to the farmers market in Fremont and bought summer produce: peaches, tomatoes, basil, the American summer bounty that my Korean kitchen absorbs and transforms. I made a Korean peach salad — sliced peaches with gochujang dressing, sesame seeds, perilla leaves — that was the most summery Korean dish I have ever created. The peach and the gochujang should not work together (sweet fruit, spicy chili paste) but they do, the way Korean and Taiwanese should not work together in a relationship and they do, the way adopted and belonging should not coexist and they do. The fusion is the rule, not the exception. Everything good in my life is a fusion.

Kevin visited from Portland — a weekend trip, just him and Lisa. He met James properly for the first time (they had FaceTimed but never met in person). The meeting happened at my apartment over Korean BBQ: galbi on the cast iron grill pan, the smoke alarm going off twice (tradition), lettuce wraps and ssamjang and kimchi. Kevin and James hit it off — two Asian-American men with dry humor and a love of craft. Kevin said, "If you can eat Steph's kimchi from the jar, you are in the family." James ate it from the jar. Kevin nodded. The kimchi-from-the-jar test: passed.

Kevin looks good — three and a half years sober, Bridge City thriving, Lisa beside him. The stability is not fragile anymore. It is structural. Kevin is built. Lisa is built. The coffee shop is built. The building was hard and the built is solid and my brother is a man who eats galbi wraps at my table with my boyfriend and his girlfriend and the table is full and the family is wider than it was and the widening is the joy.

Saturday: Bellevue with the whole crew — Kevin, Lisa, James, Karen, David, me. Karen made her chicken and dumplings. I brought galbi. David looked at the table — six people, two cuisines — and said, "This family has gotten complicated." Complicated. Yes. Beautifully, deliciously, galbi-and-dumpling-ly complicated. The best kind.

That Saturday table in Bellevue — galbi next to Karen’s chicken and dumplings, six people, two cuisines, one beautifully complicated family — is the image I keep coming back to every time I cook. These Asian chicken thighs are my weeknight answer to that same spirit: a bold, soy-and-ginger-forward marinade that feels just as at home beside a bowl of dumplings as it does next to a plate of kimchi. If your table is getting wider, this is the kind of recipe that grows with it.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

2 lbs bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs (about 4 thighs)
1/4 cup soy sauce
2 tablespoons honey
2 tablespoons rice vinegar
1 tablespoon sesame oil
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon sriracha or chili-garlic sauce (adjust to taste)
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
2 green onions, thinly sliced, for garnish
1 teaspoon sesame seeds, for garnish

Instructions

Make the marinade. In a small bowl, whisk together soy sauce, honey, rice vinegar, sesame oil, ginger, garlic, and sriracha until the honey is fully dissolved.
Marinate the chicken. Place chicken thighs in a zip-top bag or shallow dish. Pour the marinade over the chicken, turning to coat. Marinate for at least 15 minutes at room temperature, or up to 8 hours in the refrigerator.
Sear the chicken. Heat vegetable oil in a large oven-safe skillet over medium-high heat. Remove chicken from the marinade, reserving the marinade. Place chicken thighs skin-side down and sear for 4–5 minutes until the skin is golden and crispy. Flip and sear the other side for 2 minutes.
Roast until cooked through. Preheat oven to 400°F. Pour the reserved marinade over the chicken in the skillet. Transfer the skillet to the oven and roast for 25–28 minutes, until the internal temperature reaches 165°F and the sauce has thickened and caramelized around the thighs.
Rest and serve. Let the chicken rest for 5 minutes. Spoon pan sauce over each thigh, then garnish with sliced green onions and sesame seeds. Serve over steamed rice or alongside whatever else is on your table.

Nutrition (per serving)

Asian Chicken Thighs — The Fusion Is the Rule, Not the Exception