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Sesame Chicken With Creamy Satay Sauce — The Celebration Dinner I Cook When Something Has Been Survived

Ma walked to the temple. Sunday, July 19th. Three months after the hospital. She put on her orthopedic shoes and her sun hat and she walked 1.2 miles to the Vietnamese Buddhist temple and 1.2 miles back. I walked beside her. She didn't hold my arm this time — she walked on her own, at her own pace, which was slower than before but steady. She was winded at the temple. We sat on the bench in the courtyard — our bench, the one we've been sitting on since the walks started two years ago — and she caught her breath and I didn't say anything because she didn't need me to say anything. She went inside to pray. I sat on the bench. The incense smelled the same. The courtyard looked the same. Everything was the same except that three months ago my mother was breathing through a tube on the sixth floor of Memorial Hermann and now she was praying in the temple she walks to every Sunday. When she came out, she said, "I told your father I'm fine." She talks to Huy at the temple. She prays to him, or at him, or with him — I don't know the theology. But she tells him things. She tells him about the grandchildren, about the pho, about the virus. She tells him she's fine. Whether he hears her or not, the telling is the point. We walked home. She made congee. I ate it at her table. The routine, restored. Not the same as before — she's slower, the walks take longer, the congee has less fish sauce because her taste still isn't fully back. But the routine holds. The bones of the life hold. The Bobby Tran BBQ rub has sold 2,500 jars in three weeks. The royalty checks are arriving. It's not enough to live on but it's enough to breathe. The day job is stabilizing — back to four days a week, possibly five by September. The math is getting better. Made myself a celebration dinner: cha ca La Vong. The turmeric fish with dill. The dish I make on anniversaries, on days that matter, on days when something has been survived. Ma walked to the temple. That's an anniversary. That's a day that matters. The fire keeps burning. The woman keeps walking. The fish keeps sizzling in the pan.

I don’t have cha ca La Vong every day — I save it for the days that earn it, the days when something shifts and the world looks different than it did that morning. Ma walked 2.4 miles on her own and came home steady, and that called for a pan on the stove and something that smells like occasion. When the fish wasn’t available at the market, I reached for the dish that comes closest to that feeling for me: sesame chicken in a creamy satay sauce, fragrant and rich, the kind of thing that makes the kitchen feel like it’s celebrating with you. The routine restored — and dinner worthy of the day.

Sesame Chicken With Creamy Satay Sauce

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

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into 1-inch strips
  • 2 tablespoons sesame oil, divided
  • 2 tablespoons soy sauce
  • 1 tablespoon rice vinegar
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
  • 2 tablespoons toasted sesame seeds
  • 3 green onions, thinly sliced, for garnish
  • For the creamy satay sauce:
  • 1/2 cup creamy peanut butter
  • 1/4 cup full-fat coconut milk
  • 2 tablespoons soy sauce
  • 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
  • 1 tablespoon honey
  • 1 teaspoon sriracha or sambal oelek
  • 3 to 4 tablespoons warm water, to thin

Instructions

  1. Marinate the chicken. In a medium bowl, combine the chicken strips with 1 tablespoon sesame oil, 2 tablespoons soy sauce, rice vinegar, garlic, and ginger. Toss to coat evenly and let sit for at least 10 minutes while you prepare the sauce.
  2. Make the satay sauce. In a small saucepan over low heat, whisk together peanut butter, coconut milk, soy sauce, lime juice, honey, and sriracha. Stir until smooth and warmed through, 3 to 4 minutes. Add warm water one tablespoon at a time until the sauce reaches a pourable, creamy consistency. Keep warm over the lowest heat setting.
  3. Sear the chicken. Heat the remaining 1 tablespoon sesame oil in a large skillet or wok over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add the marinated chicken in a single layer — work in batches if needed to avoid crowding. Cook 4 to 5 minutes per side until cooked through and golden at the edges.
  4. Toast the sesame seeds. If your sesame seeds are not pre-toasted, add them to the pan during the last 2 minutes of cooking, stirring frequently until fragrant and lightly golden.
  5. Plate and serve. Arrange the chicken on a platter or individual bowls over steamed jasmine rice. Drizzle generously with the warm satay sauce, scatter green onions over the top, and finish with any remaining sesame seeds.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 435 | Protein: 38g | Fat: 24g | Carbs: 14g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 720mg

Bobby Tran
About the cook who shared this
Bobby Tran
Week 225 of Bobby’s 30-year story · Houston, Texas
Bobby Tran was born in a refugee camp in Arkansas to parents who fled Saigon with nothing. He grew up in Houston straddling two worlds — Vietnamese at home, Texan everywhere else — and learned to cook from his mother's pho and a neighbor's BBQ smoker. He's a former shrimper, a recovering alcoholic, a divorced dad of three, and the guy who marinates brisket in fish sauce and lemongrass because he doesn't believe in borders, especially when it comes to flavor.

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