Pheasant Stir Fry

The book tour continues. Fourth stop: Charlotte. Isaiah came to the reading — sat in the back row like a man trying not to be noticed, which is impossible when you're six-foot-two and wearing a GREENS KING apron that you brought specifically to embarrass your stepmother. When I read the section about his collard greens — the Tuesday night in 2021, the crying over the pot, the "Can you teach me how to make those?" — he put his head down. Not in embarrassment. In memory. The room was quiet. Forty people in Charlotte heard the story of a twelve-year-old boy who sat at a table and asked to learn and the asking was the beginning of everything.

After the reading, a woman approached Isaiah. She said, "You're the greens boy." He said, "Yes ma'am." She said, "My son won't eat anything I cook. What do I do?" Isaiah looked at me. I looked at him. He said, "Cook anyway. He'll come around." The advice of a twenty-one-year-old man who once refused to eat his stepmother's food for three months and now makes collard greens at 5 AM on Christmas. Cook anyway. He'll come around. That's the sermon. That's the book. That's everything.

Made a big pot of seafood gumbo to celebrate the Charlotte reading — the everything-belongs pot, with shrimp and crab and sausage and Isaiah's greens on the side because every gumbo I make now has greens beside it, the way every sentence I write now has Mama beside it. The greens are the greens. The greens are also Isaiah. The food is the food. The food is also the family.

After Charlotte — after Isaiah and the apron and the woman whose son won’t eat and the whole holy mess of it — I needed something loud and fast and celebratory to make in that hotel kitchenette, something that required attention and heat and wouldn’t let me sit still and cry about it. This pheasant stir fry was exactly that: bold, a little unexpected, everything in the pan at once. It’s the kind of dish you make for someone who isn’t sure they want what you’re offering yet — and you make it anyway, because Isaiah was right, and Isaiah learned it from me, and I learned it from every woman who ever cooked into the silence and waited for the room to fill.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs pheasant breast, thinly sliced against the grain
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 tablespoon oyster sauce
1 tablespoon sesame oil
2 teaspoons cornstarch
1 teaspoon fresh ginger, minced
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided
1 red bell pepper, thinly sliced
1 cup broccoli florets
1 cup snap peas, trimmed
1/2 cup carrots, julienned
3 green onions, sliced (plus more for garnish)
1 tablespoon toasted sesame seeds
Cooked white or brown rice, for serving

Instructions

Marinate the pheasant. In a medium bowl, combine sliced pheasant with soy sauce, oyster sauce, sesame oil, and cornstarch. Toss well to coat and let rest for at least 10 minutes while you prep the vegetables.
Heat the wok. Place a wok or large heavy skillet over high heat until it just begins to smoke. Add 1 tablespoon of vegetable oil and swirl to coat.
Sear the pheasant. Add the marinated pheasant in a single layer. Cook undisturbed for 90 seconds, then stir-fry for another 2–3 minutes until cooked through and lightly caramelized. Transfer to a plate and set aside.
Stir-fry the aromatics. Add the remaining tablespoon of oil to the wok. Add the garlic and ginger and stir constantly for 30 seconds until fragrant — do not let them burn.
Cook the vegetables. Add the carrots and broccoli first and stir-fry for 2 minutes. Add the bell pepper, snap peas, and green onions and continue stir-frying for another 2 minutes until vegetables are crisp-tender and bright.
Bring it together. Return the pheasant to the wok. Toss everything together over high heat for 1 minute until combined and heated through. Taste and adjust seasoning with a splash more soy sauce if needed.
Serve. Spoon over steamed rice and garnish with toasted sesame seeds and sliced green onions.

Nutrition (per serving)

Pheasant Stir Fry — Cook Anyway, He’ll Come Around