Baked Honey Sesame Chicken Drumsticks

Year two. The smoker is still here. The route is still mine — for now. Rosetta is still right about everything. And I am still Big E, fifty-eight years old, walking the mail through Midtown Memphis with a knee that sounds like a bowl of Rice Krispies and a heart that is, despite the cholesterol, as full as it has ever been.

This week I marked the beginning of year two the way I mark most beginnings: by not marking it at all. Beginnings are for people who measure their lives in milestones. I measure mine in smoke — how many shoulders have I smoked, how many ribs have I rubbed, how many fires have I started in Uncle Clyde's steel drum, and the answer is: I lost count decades ago, which is exactly the right number, because counting is the enemy of devotion. You don't count how many times you've kissed your wife. You just keep kissing her.

Trey turned two this week — Walter Jr.'s youngest, the baby of the family, the child who entered the world at eight pounds and has been trying to eat everything in it ever since. The birthday party was at Walter Jr.'s house in Cordova: twelve toddlers, their exhausted parents, a bounce house that cost more than my first car, and a cake shaped like a fire truck that Tamika ordered from a bakery in Germantown. I brought the food, because what else would I bring? I smoked chicken drumsticks — two dozen, small enough for small hands — and served them with a mild sauce, no cayenne, because two-year-olds and cayenne are a combination that ends in tears and Tamika would never forgive me.

Trey was fascinated by the candles on his cake. Not interested in the cake itself — just the fire. He stared at those two little flames with the concentration of a jeweler examining a diamond, or a pitmaster examining his coals. I said to Walter Jr., "That boy's got the fire in him." Walter Jr. said, "He's two, Dad. He just likes shiny things." Maybe so. But I saw what I saw, and what I saw was Clyde in miniature, and the line from the steel drum on Lamar Avenue in 1972 to a birthday candle in Cordova in 2017 is straighter than anyone thinks.

Saturday was a quieter cook. I made a pot of gumbo — real gumbo, the kind that starts with a roux and takes all day, because gumbo is not a meal, it's a commitment. The roux: equal parts flour and oil, stirred constantly over medium heat for forty-five minutes until it turns the color of dark chocolate, and if you stop stirring for thirty seconds, it burns, and if it burns, you start over, because a burned roux cannot be saved and a gumbo built on a burned roux is a gumbo built on a lie. Into the roux goes the trinity — onion, celery, bell pepper — then chicken stock, okra, smoked sausage (my own), chicken thighs, and a generous hand of Cajun seasoning. Simmer for two hours. Serve over rice. Eat slowly. Think about Louisiana and the people who invented this and the long chain of cooks that connects a shotgun house in Orange Mound to a shrimp boat on the bayou.

Rosetta ate her gumbo and said, "You're getting better at this." I said, "I've been making gumbo for twenty years." She said, "Yes. You're getting better." The woman delivers compliments on a twenty-year delay. I'll take it.

Rosetta’s backhanded compliment stayed with me all week — twenty years to earn a nod, and I’m already thinking about what comes next. That’s the thing about cooking for someone who really knows food: it doesn’t let you rest. So I turned my attention to something simpler and a little sweeter, a dish that trades the low-and-slow patience of gumbo for a hot oven and a sticky honey-sesame glaze — these baked drumsticks have become my go-to when I want big flavor without babysitting a pot for two hours. Here’s how I make them.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr | Servings: 24 drumsticks (12 servings)

Ingredients

24 chicken drumsticks (small to medium, about 6 lbs total)
1/3 cup honey
1/4 cup low-sodium soy sauce
2 tablespoons sesame oil
2 tablespoons rice vinegar
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated (or 1 teaspoon ground)
2 tablespoons cornstarch
2 tablespoons cold water
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
2 tablespoons sesame seeds, for finishing
2 green onions, thinly sliced, for finishing
Neutral oil (canola or vegetable), for the pan

Instructions

Heat the oven. Preheat to 400°F. Line two large rimmed baking sheets with foil and brush lightly with neutral oil. Arrange drumsticks in a single layer with a little room between each — crowding is the enemy of a good crust.
Season and roast the first round. Pat drumsticks dry with paper towels, then season all over with salt and pepper. Roast for 25 minutes, turning once halfway through, until the skin begins to color and pull back from the bone ends.
Build the sauce. While the chicken roasts, combine honey, soy sauce, sesame oil, rice vinegar, garlic, and ginger in a small saucepan over medium heat. Bring to a gentle simmer, stirring to blend. In a small bowl, whisk the cornstarch into the cold water until smooth, then stir into the saucepan. Cook 2—3 minutes until the sauce thickens to a glossy glaze. Remove from heat.
Glaze and finish. Pull the drumsticks from the oven and brush generously with the glaze. Return to the oven for 15—18 more minutes, brushing with glaze once more halfway through, until the chicken is cooked through (internal temperature 175°F) and the glaze is caramelized and tacky.
Finish and serve. Transfer to a platter, scatter sesame seeds and sliced green onions over the top, and serve warm. These hold well at room temperature for up to an hour — useful when you’re managing a bounce house and twelve toddlers at the same time.

Nutrition (per serving, 2 drumsticks)

Baked Honey Sesame Chicken Drumsticks — Small Hands, Big Smoke