Chinese Cashew Chicken {30-Minute Meal}

The apartment is quiet again. Everyone has gone home — Barbara back to Ashland, Ken back to Sacramento, the holiday energy dispersed like steam from a pot. I am alone with Miya and Brian and the leftover turkey, which I have been repurposing all week: turkey onigiri (surprisingly good), turkey miso soup (less good, the flavors fighting), turkey fried rice (excellent, the universal salvation of all leftovers).

Post-Thanksgiving is its own season — a liminal space between autumn's abundance and winter's austerity. The farmers market is winding down. The stalls are fewer, the offerings more limited: root vegetables, storage apples, dried beans, preserves. This is the market of patience, the market that says: learn to love what lasts. I bought a bag of dried shiitake mushrooms and thought of Fumiko, who has a cabinet full of dried things — mushrooms, kombu, bonito flakes, the pantry of a woman who learned from people who survived scarcity and never forgot it.

I made a hot pot this week — a simple nabe with tofu, napa cabbage, mushrooms, and thinly sliced pork in a kombu-dashi broth, cooked at the table. Brian and I sat across from each other, dipping ingredients into the simmering pot, and it was the most intimate we have been in weeks. There is something about sharing a single pot that requires cooperation — you have to take turns, you have to watch the other person's food, you have to share the broth. Hot pot is couples therapy conducted by a cooking pot, and it was more effective than Janet.

Miya is becoming opinionated about food. She likes rice (Fumiko would be pleased). She likes sweet potato (everyone likes sweet potato). She does not like anything green, which I am choosing to interpret as a phase rather than a character flaw. I put a tiny piece of broccoli on her tray and she picked it up, examined it, and threw it on the floor with the decisive authority of a food critic issuing a one-star review. I will try again next week. Persistence is the Nakamura way.

I wrote a blog post about leftovers — about the creativity that scarcity demands, about the Japanese concept of mottainai, the regret of wastefulness, the ethic that says every ingredient deserves to be used completely. The post was practical and philosophical at once, which is becoming my signature, if I have a signature: the recipe and the meaning, the food and the feeling, never one without the other.

The hot pot carried Brian and me through the quietest part of the week, but it was the stir-fry nights — fast, practical, deeply satisfying — that kept the rhythm of ordinary life going. This Chinese cashew chicken is exactly that kind of recipe: the one you reach for when the abundance of the holiday has faded and what remains is a chicken breast, a handful of cashews, and the pantry staples Fumiko would recognize without blinking. Mottainai in a skillet. It’s on the table in 30 minutes, which is all you need when the apartment is quiet and dinner should feel like a small, good thing.

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

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1-inch pieces
3/4 cup roasted unsalted cashews
1 medium red bell pepper, diced
1 cup broccoli florets
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
3 tablespoons soy sauce (or tamari for gluten-free)
2 tablespoons oyster sauce
1 tablespoon hoisin sauce
1 tablespoon rice vinegar
1 teaspoon sesame oil
2 teaspoons cornstarch
1/4 cup low-sodium chicken broth
2 tablespoons neutral oil (such as avocado or vegetable), divided
2 green onions, thinly sliced, for garnish
Steamed white rice, for serving

Instructions

Make the sauce. In a small bowl, whisk together the soy sauce, oyster sauce, hoisin sauce, rice vinegar, sesame oil, cornstarch, and chicken broth until smooth. Set aside.
Season the chicken. Pat the chicken pieces dry with a paper towel and season lightly with salt and pepper. Dry chicken browns; wet chicken steams — the difference matters.
Sear the chicken. Heat 1 tablespoon of oil in a large skillet or wok over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add the chicken in a single layer and cook without stirring for 2 to 3 minutes until golden on one side, then toss and cook another 2 minutes. Transfer to a plate.
Cook the vegetables. Add the remaining tablespoon of oil to the same pan. Add the bell pepper and broccoli and stir-fry for 3 to 4 minutes until just tender but still with some bite. Add the garlic and ginger and cook, stirring constantly, for 30 seconds until fragrant.
Combine and sauce. Return the chicken to the pan. Pour the sauce over everything and toss to coat. Cook for 1 to 2 minutes, stirring, until the sauce thickens and everything is glossy and well coated.
Add cashews and finish. Remove from heat and stir in the cashews. Taste and adjust seasoning if needed — a touch more soy sauce or a splash more vinegar if it needs brightness.
Serve. Spoon over steamed rice and scatter green onions over the top. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chinese Cashew Chicken {30-Minute Meal} — The Weeknight Dish That Keeps the Week Moving