Spicy Apricot-Glazed Chicken

The in-law dinner happened. It went well. I am writing this on Sunday night with a glass of wine and James asleep next to me on the couch, and I am reporting from a calm place I did not expect to reach.

Saturday: James and I arrived in Bellevue at 10 AM with two coolers of ingredients. We cooked all day. He made beef noodle soup broth first thing, which took six hours. I made the bulgogi marinade, the doenjang jjigae base, the pajeon batter, the banchan prep. Karen sat at the kitchen island on a stool (she cannot stand long anymore) and watched us work. She directed traffic. She kept the coffee cups full. She laughed. She looked, I thought, happier than I had seen her in months. She likes a busy kitchen. She likes the noise. She likes the way I bossed James around and James bossed me back and we played a version of a chef-adjacent marriage that she, I think, recognized as happy.

Ming and Wei-Chen arrived at 6 PM with a bottle of single malt scotch for David and a box of pineapple cakes. Ming is small, sharp, elegant; Wei is tall, kind, quiet. Karen met them at the door and greeted them in the way Karen greets people, which is with more warmth than seems reasonable for strangers. Ming said, right away, "Your home is beautiful. Your daughter is beautiful. Thank you for having us." Karen flushed with pleasure.

Dinner was — long. Three hours. Everyone ate everything. Wei tried the doenjang jjigae and said, "This is the most umami I have ever tasted." He ate three bowls. Ming was quieter about the Korean food but ate my kimchi and said, "It tastes like my grandmother's Taiwanese pickles, but different. Fermented is fermented. Your grandmother is here in this kimchi." I did not explain that my grandmother had never tasted my kimchi because she died before knowing about me. I just said, "Thank you." Sometimes the easy reading is the correct one.

Karen and Ming bonded over having been both dealt overconfident sons-in-law. At one point Karen said, "David was exactly this sure of himself when he was thirty." Ming said, "Wei was worse." David said, "In my defense, I was an engineer." Wei said, "I was also an engineer." Everyone laughed. It was the kind of dinner where the laughing kept coming in small gentle waves, and I think James's ears were ringing with relief by the end.

James's parents stayed until 10:30. When they left, Ming hugged me and said, "I am so glad James found you. You are very loved." I said, "So is he." She said, "Yes. I can see it."

We drove home at midnight. I drove. James was emotional in a tired way. He said, "That was the single most stressful thing I have ever planned." I said, "I know." He said, "I can't believe it worked." I said, "It worked because we are a good team." He said, "We are a good team." We got home. We ate the pineapple cakes. We went to bed.

The recipe this week is bulgogi, for the second time in a month, because it fed eight adults and worked with every palate and is the dish I am most confident in when the room is full. Thinly sliced ribeye, marinated, grilled hot, served with rice and lettuce and ssamjang and everything else. Sometimes the best recipe is the one you can do in your sleep. This week, I could almost do it in my sleep.

Bulgogi fed eight people that Saturday and I’ll stand by it forever, but the truth is I’ve been thinking about this Spicy Apricot-Glazed Chicken ever since — because it lives in the same category as bulgogi for me: sweet, caramelized, grilled hard, built on a marinade that does most of the work for you. It’s the recipe I reach for when I need something that looks like effort and feels like confidence. After a dinner where everything had to go right, and miraculously did, I wanted to write down the other dish I trust completely when the room is full of people I’m trying to impress.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min (plus 1 hr marinating) | Servings: 4

Ingredients

2 lbs bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs (about 4–6 pieces)
3/4 cup apricot preserves
2 tablespoons sriracha or sambal oelek
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 tablespoon rice vinegar
1 tablespoon neutral oil (vegetable or canola), plus more for the grill
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 green onions, thinly sliced, for garnish
Sesame seeds, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

Make the glaze. In a small saucepan over medium-low heat, combine apricot preserves, sriracha, soy sauce, rice vinegar, oil, garlic, and ginger. Stir and cook for 3–4 minutes until slightly thickened and fragrant. Remove from heat and let cool. Reserve 1/4 cup of the glaze separately for serving.
Marinate the chicken. Pat chicken thighs dry and season on both sides with salt and pepper. Place in a zip-top bag or shallow dish and pour the remaining (non-reserved) glaze over the chicken. Massage to coat. Refrigerate for at least 1 hour, or up to overnight.
Prepare the grill. Heat a gas or charcoal grill to medium-high (about 400°F). Clean and oil the grates well to prevent sticking.
Grill the chicken. Remove chicken from the marinade, letting excess drip off. Place skin-side down on the grill. Grill for 6–8 minutes without moving, until the skin is charred and releases cleanly. Flip and cook another 8–10 minutes, until an instant-read thermometer inserted near the bone reads 165°F.
Glaze and finish. In the last 2 minutes of cooking, brush the skin side with a little of the reserved glaze and allow it to caramelize directly on the grill. Watch closely — the sugar in the preserves will catch quickly.
Rest and serve. Transfer chicken to a platter and let rest 5 minutes. Drizzle with remaining reserved glaze, scatter green onions and sesame seeds over the top, and serve alongside steamed rice.

Nutrition (per serving)

Spicy Apricot-Glazed Chicken — The Dish I Could Make in My Sleep (and Almost Did)