Pineapple-Ginger Chicken Stir-Fry

The week everything accelerated. Monday we were in school and by Friday we were not. Governor Edwards declared a public health emergency. The NBA suspended its season. Tom Hanks tested positive. Schools announced they were closing effective March 13th for at least two weeks, pending developments. Scotlandville Magnet sent the email Thursday afternoon and the school hallways on Friday morning had a quality I had never felt in a building before: the specific disorientation of something ending without warning, in the middle of things.

I cleaned out my locker on Friday. Naomi and Kevin and I stood in the AP Chemistry hallway for a few minutes, not saying much. Mr. Okonkwo had sent us all an email with the upcoming chapter reading assignments and said he would be setting up a video call system for the study group. Marcus said, "Is this real?" I said it was real. He said, "How long?" I said I didn't know. None of us knew.

Mama had asked me to stop at the grocery store on the way home. The shelves were beginning to look different — gaps in the paper goods section, the pasta aisle thinner than usual. I bought what was on the list: proteins, beans, rice, flour, canned tomatoes. The foundations. The pantry staples that can become anything. I thought about this as I pushed the cart: the history of cooking under constraint, the dishes that emerged from necessity, the way Louisiana food had always been about making something from what was available. We were going to be fine. We had always known how to feed ourselves.

I came home and put everything away and made dinner from what was in the refrigerator without buying anything new. Shrimp fried rice, vegetables, a quick sauce. Fast and satisfying and made from what we had. Mama came home from a long shift and ate without speaking for five minutes. Then she said, "Good." That was enough.

That Friday I made shrimp fried rice from what was in the refrigerator, but in the weeks that followed, this Pineapple-Ginger Chicken Stir-Fry became the dish I kept coming back to — because it asks almost nothing of you and gives back something real. Canned pineapple, ginger, soy sauce, a protein: the kind of ingredients that were already in the pantry when I was stocking up on foundations. It’s fast enough for a tired parent coming off a long shift, and grounded enough to feel like you meant it.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 lb boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 can (20 oz) pineapple chunks in juice, drained (reserve 1/4 cup juice)
3 tablespoons soy sauce
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, minced (or 1 teaspoon ground ginger)
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided
1 red bell pepper, thinly sliced
1 cup snap peas or frozen peas, thawed
2 green onions, sliced
1 tablespoon cornstarch
1 teaspoon sesame oil
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
Cooked white or brown rice, for serving

Instructions

Make the sauce. Whisk together the reserved pineapple juice, soy sauce, cornstarch, and sesame oil in a small bowl until smooth. Set aside.
Cook the chicken. Heat 1 tablespoon of vegetable oil in a large skillet or wok over high heat until shimmering. Add the chicken in a single layer and cook without stirring for 2—3 minutes until golden on one side. Stir and cook another 2—3 minutes until cooked through. Transfer to a plate.
Bloom the aromatics. Add the remaining tablespoon of oil to the pan. Add the garlic, ginger, and red pepper flakes if using. Stir constantly for about 30 seconds until fragrant — don’t let it burn.
Stir-fry the vegetables. Add the bell pepper and snap peas. Toss and cook over high heat for 2—3 minutes until just tender but still crisp.
Bring it together. Return the chicken to the pan and add the pineapple chunks. Pour the sauce over everything and toss to coat. Cook 1—2 minutes, stirring, until the sauce thickens and everything is glazed and hot.
Serve. Spoon over cooked rice and top with sliced green onions.

Nutrition (per serving)

Pineapple-Ginger Chicken Stir-Fry — What We Had Was Enough