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Lemon Chicken Pasta — The Week I Shipped Everything and Slowed Down

The packages to Korea shipped Tuesday. Jisoo's box — letter, photograph, kimchi jar (triple-wrapped), ceramic bowls (wrapped in sweaters). Eunji's box — Seattle cookbook, a small charm I bought at the Market. Jihoon's box — Mariners cap, a handwritten note, a Starbucks gift card because James made me include it as a joke and I kept it in because it felt appropriate. The agency coordinator helped me navigate the customs forms. She said, "This is the first reunion family we've had who shipped Christmas gifts. Most people send cards." I said, "I'm an overachiever." She laughed.

I also shipped a box to Kevin and Lisa on Wednesday. Inside: James's coffee equipment gift (a precise temperature-controlled electric kettle that Kevin does not need but will love), my houseplant gift (shipped in a heat pack for December), and a card from Karen that she had me handwrite for her — her shaking hands cannot manage a long note anymore, so she dictates and I write, which is a new service I am offering my mother for free. The card said: "Lisa, you are our family now. Welcome. Love, Karen."

I wrote Jisoo a long letter this week about Karen. About Karen's declining hands and her improving grace. Jisoo wrote back: "She sounds like a woman I would have liked to be friends with. I am glad you have her. I am glad she has you." Jisoo does not feel the need to compete. This is one of the best things about her.

Karen called Thursday night. She was tired but chipper. She said, "David's sister Margaret is coming for Christmas." Margaret is David's only sibling; she lives in Spokane. She comes every other year. Margaret is fine but not my favorite — she has a way of saying things like "Stephanie, you look more Asian than I remembered," with the guilelessness of someone who thinks she is giving a compliment. I told Karen I was excited to see Margaret. Karen said, "Liar." I laughed. Karen said, "She's your aunt. Be nice." I said, "I'm always nice." Karen said, "Nice-ish." I conceded.

I tried jjampong for Eunji on Sunday. Jjampong is Korean-Chinese: spicy seafood noodles in a fiery red broth. Shrimp, squid, mussels, cabbage, onion, zucchini, mushroom, garlic, ginger, chili oil, chili paste, anchovy stock. My first attempt was decent. Too salty. James said, "Try it again. You'll get it." I will try it again next week. I sent Eunji a photo of the pot. She wrote back in short English: "Looks right! Almost. Try less salt." I laughed. Little sister advice from 5,000 miles away.

Work: winding down. Three meetings on Monday, two on Tuesday, one on Wednesday, none on Thursday, Friday off. I made a kimchi-pork stew for lunch on Thursday and ate it at my kitchen table with the laptop closed for ninety minutes. This was the calmest work lunch I have had in the year 2021.

Dr. Yoon: we went deeper on the business idea. I told her the name I had been turning over in my head: Banchan Labs. She said, "I like that." I said, "Banchan are the small side dishes. They are what a Korean meal is built around. Plural. Many little things." She said, "So the company would be about small things, plural, many." I said, "Yes." She said, "That's you." I said, "I know." It was the most confident career sentence I had said out loud in years.

The recipe this week is jjampong, attempt one. I will not publish it until I get it right. Next week, probably. Or the week after.

I did not make jjampong this week — or rather, I made it, but I’m not ready to share it yet. Eunji says the salt is still off. She’s right. What I did make, on Thursday after the boxes were gone and the laptop was closed and Karen’s card was already on its way to Lisa, was this lemon chicken pasta — quick, bright, uncomplicated, the kind of thing you cook when you have been giving all week and need something that gives a little back. It felt right for a December that has asked a lot of me in the best possible way.

Lemon Chicken Pasta

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 12 oz linguine or spaghetti
  • 1 lb boneless, skinless chicken breasts, sliced thin
  • 3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
  • 4 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
  • 1/2 cup dry white wine (or chicken broth)
  • 1/2 cup chicken broth
  • Zest and juice of 2 lemons
  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
  • 1/4 cup fresh parsley, roughly chopped
  • 1/3 cup grated Parmesan, plus more for serving
  • Salt and black pepper to taste

Instructions

  1. Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of well-salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until al dente. Reserve 1/2 cup pasta water before draining. Set pasta aside.
  2. Season and sear the chicken. Pat chicken slices dry and season generously with salt and pepper. Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add chicken in a single layer and cook 3–4 minutes per side until golden and cooked through. Transfer to a plate and tent loosely with foil.
  3. Build the sauce. Reduce heat to medium. Add remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil to the same skillet. Add garlic and red pepper flakes and cook, stirring, for about 60 seconds until fragrant. Pour in white wine and let it reduce by half, about 2 minutes. Add chicken broth, lemon zest, and lemon juice. Simmer 3 minutes.
  4. Finish with butter. Stir in butter until melted and the sauce looks glossy. Taste and adjust salt as needed.
  5. Toss and combine. Add the drained pasta directly to the skillet along with the cooked chicken. Toss everything together over low heat, adding splashes of reserved pasta water as needed to loosen the sauce and coat the noodles evenly.
  6. Add herbs and serve. Remove from heat. Fold in parsley and Parmesan. Serve immediately with extra Parmesan on top.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 520 | Protein: 38g | Fat: 16g | Carbs: 54g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 420mg

Stephanie Park
About the cook who shared this
Stephanie Park
Week 299 of Stephanie’s 30-year story · Seattle, Washington
Stephanie is a software engineer in Seattle, a new mom, and a Korean-American adoptee who spent twenty-five years not knowing where she came from. She was adopted as an infant by a white family in Bellevue who loved her completely and never cooked Korean food. At twenty-eight, she found her birth mother in Busan — and then she found herself in a kitchen, crying over her first homemade kimchi jjigae, because some things your body remembers even when your mind doesn't.

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