Indonesian Peanut Chicken

I found a therapist. Dr. Mehta — an Indian-American psychologist in Princeton who specializes in children of immigrants and the specific mental health challenges that come with navigating two cultures. The first session was Wednesday at 7 PM, over Zoom (because everything therapeutic in my life happens over Zoom). Raj watched the kids. I sat in the bedroom with the door locked and the laptop open and a woman on the screen who looked at me with the calm, knowing gaze of someone who has heard stories like mine before. "What brings you here?" she asked. I intended to say something measured and clinical — to describe the anxiety in pharmacological terms, to present my symptoms like a case study. Instead, I said: "My mother has Alzheimer's and I've been managing my anxiety alone since I was twelve and I'm afraid that if I keep holding all of this I'm going to break." And then I cried. For forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes of tears that have been accumulating since middle school, since Amma said "we don't have anxiety," since I learned to manage the racing heart and the catastrophic thinking and the midnight worry through breathing exercises and cooking and the sheer determination of a woman who was not allowed to be anxious. Dr. Mehta listened. She didn't fix anything — you can't fix twenty years of suppression in one session. But she heard me. And being heard is the first step. "We don't have anxiety," I told her. "That's what my mother says." "Do you believe her?" "I have anxiety. It doesn't matter what I believe." "It matters that you're here." It matters that I'm here. In a locked bedroom, on a Zoom call, crying to a stranger who understands what it costs to be the good daughter in a family that measures love in sambar and silence. I made Amma's rasam when I came out — the comfort version, peppery and hot. The rasam that says: today was hard. Tomorrow might be hard too. But the pepper is real and the warmth is real and you're alive. I'm alive. I'm in therapy. I'm not okay. But I'm here.

I didn’t make rasam that night — I made this instead, because the peanut sauce has that same quality rasam has always had for me: it is warm from the inside out, it is unapologetic in its heat, and it asks nothing of you except that you sit down and let it do its work. After forty-five minutes of crying to Dr. Mehta, after unlocking the bedroom door and stepping back into the ordinary noise of my own house, I needed something that felt like being held without having to explain why. The ginger and garlic hit the pan and the smell alone was enough to make me feel, just briefly, like everything was going to be okay — not fixed, not fine, but okay. This is that recipe.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into 1-inch pieces
2 tablespoons coconut oil or neutral oil, divided
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric
1/2 cup creamy natural peanut butter
1/2 cup full-fat coconut milk
3 tablespoons low-sodium soy sauce
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice (about 1 large lime)
1 tablespoon brown sugar or coconut sugar
1 tablespoon fish sauce (or extra soy sauce to keep it vegetarian)
1 teaspoon sriracha or sambal oelek, plus more to taste
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, finely grated
2 scallions, thinly sliced, for serving
2 tablespoons roasted peanuts, roughly chopped, for serving
Cooked jasmine rice or steamed rice, for serving

Instructions

Season the chicken. Toss the chicken pieces with salt, pepper, and turmeric until evenly coated. Set aside for 5 to 10 minutes while you prepare the sauce.
Make the peanut sauce. In a medium bowl, whisk together the peanut butter, coconut milk, soy sauce, lime juice, brown sugar, fish sauce, and sriracha until smooth and fully combined. Taste and adjust heat or sweetness as needed. Set aside.
Sear the chicken. Heat 1 tablespoon of oil in a large skillet or wok over medium-high heat. Add the chicken in a single layer and cook, undisturbed, for 3 to 4 minutes until golden on the bottom. Flip and cook another 2 to 3 minutes. Transfer to a plate.
Build the aromatics. Reduce heat to medium and add the remaining 1 tablespoon of oil to the pan. Add the garlic and ginger and cook, stirring constantly, for about 60 seconds until fragrant — do not let it burn.
Simmer in sauce. Return the chicken to the pan and pour the peanut sauce over everything. Stir to coat, then reduce heat to medium-low. Simmer uncovered for 8 to 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the sauce thickens slightly and the chicken is cooked through (internal temperature of 165°F).
Finish and serve. Remove from heat. Serve over jasmine rice, topped with sliced scallions and chopped roasted peanuts. Add an extra squeeze of lime if the sauce feels heavy. Eat while it’s hot.

Nutrition (per serving)

Indonesian Peanut Chicken — The Warmth You Make When You Finally Let Yourself Break