Ma has the kids this week. All three of them. At her house in Alief. I dropped them off Sunday night with overnight bags and a sense of vague terror.
Mai Tran at seventy is not a woman who takes it easy. She has a schedule for these kids and the schedule starts at 7 AM. Tyler, Emma, and Lily are going to learn how to cook Vietnamese food whether they like it or not. This is not a request. This is a grandmother's mandate.
I called Tuesday night to check in. Tyler answered. He sounded tired. "She had us making spring rolls at eight in the morning, Dad. Eight. In the morning." I said, "How were they?" He said, "Actually really good." That's my mother's teaching method — you complain while you learn and then you admit it was worth it.
Emma got on the phone and was ecstatic. "Ong Noi taught me how to make the dipping sauce! The nuoc cham! I can make it from memory now!" She called my mother Ong Noi, which is wrong — that's for grandfather — but Ma doesn't correct her because Ma thinks Emma is perfect and will let her call her anything.
Lily got on the phone and said, "Grandma made me eat pho and I liked it." This is the headline. This is the moon landing. Lily, my chicken-nuggets-or-death child, ate pho and liked it. I almost drove over there to witness it in person but restrained myself.
With the kids at Ma's, I had the week to myself. I should've relaxed. Instead, I deep-cleaned the smoker, reorganized the spice cabinet, pressure-washed the back patio, and made three different experimental sauces for no reason. I don't know how to sit still. Never have. The shrimp boats beat it out of me — on a boat, idle hands get you killed. On dry land, idle hands just mean I'm rearranging the garage at 11 PM.
Made myself ga kho gung — chicken braised with ginger — on Wednesday night. Solo dinner. This is a comfort dish, the kind of thing Ma made when it was raining or when someone was sick. Chicken thighs, a mountain of sliced ginger, fish sauce, sugar, black pepper, a little caramel sauce. You braise it in a clay pot until the chicken is falling off the bone and the ginger has gone soft and sweet and the sauce is thick and dark. Eat it over rice. That's it. That's dinner. That's the whole religion.
I ate it at the kitchen table alone and it was fine. Solo dinners don't bother me anymore. I've made peace with my own company. Took a long time to get here. There were years when being alone in this house felt like punishment. Now it feels like a choice. That's the difference sobriety makes — you go from being alone because no one can stand you to being alone because you've earned the right to be comfortable with yourself.
Ga kho gung is Ma’s recipe and it’ll stay Ma’s recipe — I’m not putting that one on the internet while she’s still alive and able to have opinions about it. But that Wednesday night craving for something sticky and sweet and savory over rice? This baked sweet and sour chicken hits that same frequency. It’s not Vietnamese, but the logic is the same: coat the chicken, build a glossy sauce, let the oven do the work, eat it over white rice and feel like someone took care of you. After a week of pressure-washing and reorganizing and making myself useful in an empty house, I needed a recipe that asked nothing of me except to show up.
Baked Sweet and Sour Chicken
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 55 min | Total Time: 1 hr 10 min | Servings: 4–6
Ingredients
- 2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs or breasts, cut into 1-inch pieces
- 1/2 cup cornstarch
- 2 large eggs, beaten
- 3 tablespoons vegetable oil
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- Sweet and Sour Sauce:
- 3/4 cup granulated sugar
- 1/2 cup ketchup
- 1/4 cup white vinegar
- 2 tablespoons soy sauce
- 1 teaspoon garlic powder
Instructions
- Preheat. Heat your oven to 325°F. Lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking dish and set aside.
- Season and coat the chicken. Season the chicken pieces with salt and pepper. Working in batches, toss the chicken in cornstarch until fully coated, then dip each piece into the beaten egg.
- Pan-fry until golden. Heat the vegetable oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Sear the coated chicken pieces in batches, about 1–2 minutes per side, just until the exterior is golden and set. Do not cook through — the oven finishes the job. Transfer to the prepared baking dish.
- Make the sauce. In a medium bowl, whisk together the sugar, ketchup, white vinegar, soy sauce, and garlic powder until the sugar is mostly dissolved and the sauce is smooth.
- Bake. Pour the sauce evenly over the chicken in the baking dish. Bake uncovered for 45–55 minutes, stirring and turning the chicken every 15 minutes to coat it as the sauce thickens and caramelizes. The sauce should be dark, sticky, and glossy when done.
- Rest and serve. Let the dish rest for 5 minutes before serving. Spoon generously over steamed white rice.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 415 | Protein: 31g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 46g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 670mg
About the cook who shared this
Bobby Tran
Week 16 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.