Curry Chicken Stew

The phone call with the agent. Her name is Sarah Chen. She's based in Brooklyn. She grew up in Queens, the daughter of Taiwanese immigrants. She found my blog through the Christmas tree post and read every entry and called her colleague and said, "This woman needs to write a book." We talked for forty-five minutes. She asked about Amma, about Anaya, about the kitchen, about the MCI diagnosis (I'd written about cognitive decline obliquely on the blog — never using the word Alzheimer's, but the urgency was there). She asked what the book would be. "My mother's recipes," I said. "But also my mother. The recipes are the door. The life is the house." "That's exactly what I hoped you'd say." She wants me to write a proposal — a sample chapter, an outline, a summary of what the book will be. She'll take it to publishers. If it sells, I'll write the book. If it doesn't, I'll write it anyway, because the writing is no longer optional. The proposal will take months. The book will take longer. And all of it depends on Amma — on her being here, being lucid, being able to tell me the stories that make the recipes more than ingredients. The clock. The clock is always running. I told Raj about the call. He said, "You're going to be published." "I'm going to write a proposal." "You're going to be published." "You don't know that." "I know you. You don't start things you don't finish." This is both the nicest and the most exhausting thing about being married to someone who believes in you — they never let you quit, even when quitting sounds reasonable. I made Amma's pepper chicken tonight — the dry-roasted version, black pepper and curry leaves, fiery and smoky. The dish she makes when she wants to assert dominance over the kitchen. I made it because I felt powerful. The phone call made me powerful. The yes made me powerful. A book. My mother's recipes. My stories. Our kitchen. The proposal starts tomorrow. The clock runs. I write faster.

The night the agent called, I didn’t celebrate with wine or takeout — I cooked, because that’s what the women in my family do when something shifts. I made Amma’s pepper chicken, that fiery dry-roasted version she reaches for when she wants the kitchen to know who’s in charge, and this curry chicken stew is the closest I can offer you of that feeling: warming, assertive, built on spices that mean business. If you’re writing something that terrifies you, or waiting on a call that could change things, make this — eat it standing up at the stove if you have to.

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

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into 1 1/2-inch pieces
2 tablespoons coconut oil or neutral oil
1 medium yellow onion, finely diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
1 1/2 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper (plus more to taste)
2 teaspoons curry powder
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric
1/2 teaspoon ground coriander
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 can (14 oz) diced tomatoes
1 can (14 oz) full-fat coconut milk
1 cup low-sodium chicken broth
1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt, divided
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
Fresh cilantro, for serving
Steamed rice or crusty bread, for serving

Instructions

Season the chicken. Pat the chicken pieces dry with paper towels and season with 3/4 teaspoon kosher salt and 1/2 teaspoon black pepper. Set aside.
Sear the chicken. Heat oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add the chicken in a single layer and sear without moving for 3–4 minutes until golden brown. Flip and cook another 2 minutes. Transfer to a plate; the chicken does not need to be fully cooked through.
Build the base. Reduce heat to medium. Add the diced onion to the pot and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and lightly golden, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and ginger and cook 1 minute more, until fragrant.
Bloom the spices. Add the curry powder, cumin, turmeric, coriander, remaining 1 teaspoon black pepper, and cayenne to the pot. Stir constantly for 60 seconds, toasting the spices into the onion mixture until deeply fragrant and the pot begins to look dry.
Add the liquids. Pour in the diced tomatoes with their juices, coconut milk, and chicken broth. Stir to combine, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot. Season with the remaining 3/4 teaspoon salt.
Simmer. Return the seared chicken and any accumulated juices to the pot. Bring to a gentle boil, then reduce heat to medium-low. Simmer uncovered for 20–25 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the chicken is cooked through and the stew has thickened slightly.
Finish and serve. Stir in the lemon juice and taste for seasoning — add more black pepper or salt as needed. Ladle over steamed rice and top with fresh cilantro.

Nutrition (per serving)

Curry Chicken Stew — The Dish I Make When I Need to Feel Powerful