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Quick Chicken — Broccoli Stir-Fry — When the Proportions Start Living in Your Hands

April. The cherry blossoms on Capitol Hill are blooming for nobody. The streets are empty and the trees don't care ╬ôçö they bloom anyway, extravagantly, rudely beautiful in a world that has stopped looking. James and I walk past them every evening on our pandemic walk, the one we take at 6 PM because the apartment is too small and the walls are too close and the walk is the only thing that separates the workday from the evening. The blossoms fall on the sidewalk like confetti at a party no one is attending.

I made my first batch of mandu this week. Pork and tofu, the classic filling, with chives and garlic and sesame oil. I spent Saturday afternoon making sixty dumplings ╬ôçö rolling the dough, filling, pleating, the repetitive meditative work that Korean grandmothers have done for centuries and that I am doing in a one-bedroom apartment in Seattle while a pandemic rages outside. The pleating took me an hour to learn from a YouTube video. My first twenty were ugly ╬ôçö open, leaking, the dough too thick. My last twenty were passable. Not beautiful. Not Jisoo's (I imagine Jisoo makes perfect mandu, because I imagine Jisoo does everything perfectly, because the imagined mother is always perfect and the real one, when I find her, will be human, and human is better than perfect). But passable. Mine.

James ate fourteen mandu in one sitting and said nothing except "more." The man communicates primarily through appetite. I pan-fried half and boiled half. The pan-fried ones were better ╬ôçö crispy on the bottom, the filling juicy, the dipping sauce of soy and vinegar and sesame oil that I make by feel now, no measuring, the proportions living in my hands the way Korean cooking proportions are supposed to live. Two and a half years of teaching myself Korean food and the proportions are starting to live in my hands. Progress.

Dr. Yoon and I had a video session Thursday. We talked about the pandemic as a container ╬ôçö how isolation forces you to sit with yourself in a way that normal life allows you to avoid. She asked what I'm sitting with. I said: the search. The birth mother. The question of who I am that I've been asking for twenty-six years and that a virus has paused but not erased. She said, "The question doesn't need an answer right now. It just needs you to keep asking." I'm asking. I'm folding mandu and asking.

The mandu took a full Saturday and sixty attempts to feel like mine — but the stir-fry I made the following Tuesday came together in twenty-five minutes, and I realized the proportions for that too were starting to live somewhere in my hands, the soy and sesame going in by feel, the garlic measured by instinct rather than teaspoon. It’s a quieter kind of progress than pleating sixty dumplings, but it’s progress all the same. If you’re somewhere in the middle of learning — of cooking, of searching, of anything — this is the recipe for a Tuesday when you need something warm and fast and grounding, something that smells like garlic hitting a hot pan and reminds you that you’re still here, still cooking, still asking.

Quick Chicken & Broccoli Stir-Fry

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 25 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts, sliced thin against the grain
  • 4 cups broccoli florets (about 1 large head)
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
  • 2 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided
  • 1/4 cup low-sodium soy sauce
  • 2 tablespoons oyster sauce
  • 1 tablespoon rice vinegar
  • 1 teaspoon sesame oil
  • 1 teaspoon cornstarch
  • 1/4 cup water or low-sodium chicken broth
  • 1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
  • Cooked white or brown rice, for serving
  • Sesame seeds and thinly sliced scallions, for garnish

Instructions

  1. Make the sauce. In a small bowl, whisk together the soy sauce, oyster sauce, rice vinegar, sesame oil, cornstarch, and water until smooth. Set aside.
  2. Blanch the broccoli. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add broccoli florets and cook for 90 seconds, just until bright green and barely tender. Drain and set aside. (You can skip this step and stir-fry the broccoli directly if you prefer a bit more char.)
  3. Sear the chicken. Heat 1 tablespoon of the vegetable oil in a large skillet or wok over high heat until shimmering. Add the chicken in a single layer — work in batches if needed — and cook undisturbed for 2 to 3 minutes until golden on one side. Flip and cook another 1 to 2 minutes until cooked through. Transfer to a plate.
  4. Saute aromatics. Reduce heat to medium-high. Add the remaining tablespoon of oil to the pan. Add garlic, ginger, and red pepper flakes if using. Stir constantly for about 30 seconds until fragrant — watch it, this goes fast.
  5. Bring it together. Return the chicken and broccoli to the pan. Pour the sauce over everything and toss to coat. Cook for 1 to 2 minutes, stirring, until the sauce thickens and everything is glossy and well combined.
  6. Serve. Spoon over steamed rice and finish with a scatter of sesame seeds and scallions. Eat immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 38g | Fat: 10g | Carbs: 14g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 720mg

Stephanie Park
About the cook who shared this
Stephanie Park
Week 211 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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