Korean Fried Chicken

December again. The lights, the rain, the countdown to a holiday season I am already tired of before it begins. Anticipatory fatigue — my therapist's term, my constant companion. The body is tired before the event because the mind has already lived through the event twelve times, each time with a different catastrophe, and by the time the actual event arrives, I am exhausted from the rehearsals.

I made osechi preparations with less ambition this year — just the essentials: kuromame, datemaki, ozoni ingredients. No gobo maki, no kazunoko, no attempt at the full spread. The simplification feels right. Not everything needs to be a production. Some years the memorial is a full table. Some years the memorial is a single bowl of soup. The love is the same. The grief is the same. The scale is different, and the difference is not failure. The difference is wisdom.

I went to the Callahan Christmas, brought the karaage and the shortbread, performed the daughter-in-law role with the efficiency of a woman who has been performing it for six years and has the routine memorized. Eileen hugged me. Patrick ate six shortbread cookies. Brian's brother Sean asked about the blog, which was kind. I smiled. I engaged. I held Miya on my hip and navigated the loud, warm chaos of the Callahan holiday the way I always navigate it: as a visitor in a friendly country, fluent in the language but not a native speaker.

On Christmas morning, Miya opened her presents and Brian and I drank coffee and watched her and for one hour we were a family in the way that families are supposed to be: warm, present, unified around a child and a tree and the tissue paper on the floor. One hour. I held the hour like a stone in my palm — smooth, warm, something to carry into the not-warm hours that will follow. One good hour is evidence. One good hour means the goodness exists, even if it is surrounded by hours of empty silence and four beers and the sound of Brian coming home at midnight. The goodness exists. It is not enough. But it exists.

The karaage I brought to the Callahans was the dish I always bring when I need something that will work — something reliable, crowd-pleasing, something I can make on autopilot when my hands need to move but my brain is already somewhere else. Korean fried chicken is that dish for me: twice-fried, lacquered, impossible not to reach for. It is not a grief dish or a ceremony dish. It is a dish that says I showed up, and sometimes that is the entire sentence.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

3 lbs chicken wings or drumettes, patted dry
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp black pepper
1/2 tsp garlic powder
3/4 cup potato starch (or cornstarch)
Neutral oil for frying (vegetable or canola)
Sauce:
3 tbsp gochujang (Korean chili paste)
2 tbsp soy sauce
2 tbsp honey
1 tbsp rice vinegar
1 tbsp sesame oil
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tsp fresh ginger, grated
1 tbsp toasted sesame seeds, for garnish
2 green onions, thinly sliced, for garnish

Instructions

Season the chicken. Toss the chicken pieces with salt, black pepper, and garlic powder in a large bowl. Let sit at room temperature for 15 minutes to absorb the seasoning.
Coat with starch. Add the potato starch to the bowl and toss until each piece is thoroughly and evenly coated. Shake off any excess.
First fry. Heat 2–3 inches of oil in a heavy pot or Dutch oven to 325°F. Working in batches, fry the chicken for 6–7 minutes until just cooked through but not yet browned. Transfer to a wire rack and let rest for 5 minutes. This step cooks the chicken through without over-darkening the crust.
Make the sauce. While the chicken rests, whisk together gochujang, soy sauce, honey, rice vinegar, sesame oil, garlic, and ginger in a small saucepan over medium-low heat. Cook, stirring, for 2–3 minutes until the sauce thickens slightly and is fragrant. Remove from heat.
Second fry. Raise the oil temperature to 375°F. Fry the chicken again in batches for 3–4 minutes until deeply golden and shatteringly crisp. The double fry is what gives Korean fried chicken its signature crunch.
Sauce and serve. Transfer the hot chicken to a large bowl. Pour the sauce over and toss quickly to coat, or serve the sauce on the side for dipping. Garnish with sesame seeds and sliced green onions. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Korean Fried Chicken — The Dish I Brought to Christmas When I Had Nothing Left to Give