Angela married James Park on Saturday, August eleventh, at a park overlooking the Chugach Mountains with the particular Alaskan grandeur of a place where the mountains are the backdrop and the sky is so blue it hurts. The ceremony was outdoors — a gamble in Alaska, where weather is a suggestion rather than a forecast — and the sky cooperated, blue and clear and warm, sixty-eight degrees, which in Alaska is wedding weather and in Florida is jacket weather.
I stood next to Angela in the green dress. The dress looked terrible, as predicted, but nobody was looking at me because Angela was luminous — the word people use when they can't find a better one for a bride who is so purely happy that she appears to generate her own light. James stood across from her in a dark suit, crying before the ceremony started, which made Lourdes cry, which made me cry, which made Joseph — who had arrived from Kodiak smelling faintly of fish — cry, which meant the entire front row was weeping before the officiant said a word.
The food. The food was everything. The lechon arrived at noon, golden and crackling, carried by two men from Eagle River who deposited it on the serving table like they were delivering a diplomatic gift. The adobo — my adobo, cooked Friday night with Lourdes, thirty pounds of chicken thighs braised in vinegar and soy — filled four hotel pans. The pancit was warm and fragrant. And the lumpia — five hundred of them, fried live at the venue, the oil popping and the kitchen volunteers working in shifts — were golden and perfect and every single one was consumed. Five hundred lumpia. Zero leftovers. Lourdes surveyed the empty platters with the satisfaction of a commander who has achieved total victory.
I gave my speech. The kitchen speech. The Angela-saved-my-life speech, written around the truth the way I write around the floor. I looked at my sister and said the words and my voice shook and the room was quiet and Jason was crying and Lourdes was crying and Mark was doing the military thing where he stares straight ahead and his jaw is clenched and that's how Mark cries.
After the speeches, after the cake, after the first dance, I stood in the kitchen of the venue and washed hotel pans. The party was still going. The karaoke had started. Lourdes was singing. I stood at the sink in my green dress, elbow-deep in soapy water, washing the pans that held thirty pounds of my adobo, and I felt — complete. Not happy exactly. Something deeper. The feeling of having fed a wedding. Of having held my sister on the most important day of her life. Of having stood in the kitchen and done the work. That's the feeling. The work. The feeding. The standing. Always the standing.
I have stood elbow-deep in hotel pans washing the remnants of thirty pounds of adobo, and I can tell you: the magic of that dish is the soy, the vinegar, the long braise, and the patience. When I got home from Angela’s wedding and needed something that felt like that kitchen — that same low, savory warmth without the full wedding-scale production — I turned to this slow cooker teriyaki chicken. It’s not adobo, but the soy-forward depth and the hands-off braise give it the same spirit: you do the setup, you walk away, and the kitchen does the work while you stand. Always the standing.
Slow Cooker Teriyaki Chicken
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 4 hours | Total Time: 4 hours 10 minutes | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs
- 1/2 cup low-sodium soy sauce
- 1/4 cup honey
- 2 tablespoons rice vinegar
- 2 tablespoons brown sugar, packed
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
- 1 tablespoon sesame oil
- 2 tablespoons cornstarch
- 2 tablespoons cold water
- Sesame seeds and sliced green onions, for garnish
- Cooked white rice, for serving
Instructions
- Mix the sauce. In a medium bowl, whisk together the soy sauce, honey, rice vinegar, brown sugar, garlic, ginger, and sesame oil until the sugar is dissolved.
- Load the slow cooker. Place the chicken thighs in a single layer in the bottom of a 6-quart slow cooker. Pour the teriyaki sauce evenly over the chicken.
- Slow cook. Cover and cook on Low for 6–7 hours or on High for 3–4 hours, until the chicken is tender and cooked through to an internal temperature of 165°F.
- Shred and thicken the sauce. Remove the chicken and shred it with two forks. In a small bowl, whisk the cornstarch and cold water together into a slurry. Pour the cooking liquid into a small saucepan over medium heat, stir in the slurry, and simmer for 3–4 minutes until the sauce thickens to a glaze.
- Combine and serve. Return the shredded chicken to the slow cooker, pour the thickened glaze over the top, and toss to coat. Serve over white rice and garnish with sesame seeds and sliced green onions.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 310 | Protein: 32g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 24g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 780mg