Spicy Chicken Fried Rice

One week until the wedding. The final push. Lourdes is at my apartment every day, checking the frozen lumpia, reviewing the menu, offering opinions on matters that are both culinary and existential, because Lourdes does not distinguish between the two. "Is the adobo ready?" (Yes.) "Is the pancit ready?" (Yes.) "Is Angela ready?" (This question is not about food but Lourdes asks it in the same tone, with the same expectation of a practical answer.) "Is Jason going to propose to you next?" (This question is definitely not about food and I pretended not to hear it.)

Joseph is flying in from Kodiak on Thursday. Mark is flying in from San Diego with Carmen on Friday. The whole family, together, for the first time since — when? Christmas 2016, maybe? The Santos diaspora is reconverging on Anchorage, pulled by gravity and Angela and the promise of five hundred lumpia, and the noise level in the Mountain View house will be seismic.

I spent this week doing final food prep. The lechon — the whole roasted pig — is confirmed with the Eagle River family. They'll deliver it Saturday morning, already roasted, the skin crackling, the meat falling apart. The adobo will be cooked Friday night — two batches, thirty pounds of chicken, in Lourdes's kitchen, by Lourdes and me, side by side, the way we've always cooked. The pancit Saturday morning. The lumpia frying will happen at the venue, live, because lumpia must be served hot and there is no debate about this, none, ever.

I also finished the maid of honor speech. I read it to Jason. He teared up, which I'm taking as a good sign, though he tears up at Sarah McLachlan commercials too, so the bar for emotional response is not high. The speech mentions the kitchen. Of course it does. Everything I say mentions the kitchen. The speech says: "Angela, you've been feeding me since the day you were born — not with food, but with courage, with steadiness, with the kind of love that shows up when the world falls apart and holds you until you can hold yourself. James, welcome to the family. The food is excellent. The love is louder. You'll never be hungry. You'll never be alone."

One week. The food is ready. The speech is ready. The green dress is pressed and hanging in my closet, looking at me with the resignation of a garment that knows it is unflattering and has accepted its fate. One week. Five hundred lumpia. One speech. One sister. One wedding. Let's go.

Between the adobo batches and the lumpia freezer inventory and Lourdes’s existential check-ins, I needed something I could throw together fast on a weeknight without thinking — something spicy enough to feel like a reward and filling enough to actually sustain a person who has been stress-testing spreadsheets since 6 a.m. This spicy chicken fried rice became my week-before-the-wedding constant: a single pan, big heat, done in twenty minutes, and just chaotic enough in flavor to match the energy in the apartment.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
3 cups cooked long-grain white rice, preferably day-old
3 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
3 green onions, thinly sliced (whites and greens separated)
2 eggs, lightly beaten
3 tablespoons soy sauce
1 tablespoon sriracha, or more to taste
1 tablespoon oyster sauce
1 teaspoon sesame oil
1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1/2 cup frozen peas, thawed
Salt and black pepper to taste

Instructions

Season the chicken. Toss chicken pieces with a pinch of salt, black pepper, and the red pepper flakes. Set aside while you prep the remaining ingredients.
Mix the sauce. In a small bowl, stir together the soy sauce, sriracha, and oyster sauce. Set aside.
Cook the chicken. Heat 2 tablespoons of vegetable oil in a large wok or wide skillet over high heat until shimmering. Add the chicken in a single layer and cook undisturbed for 2–3 minutes until golden on one side, then stir and cook another 2 minutes until cooked through. Transfer to a plate.
Saute aromatics. Add the remaining 1 tablespoon of oil to the pan. Add the garlic, ginger, and green onion whites. Stir-fry for 30–60 seconds over high heat until fragrant, watching carefully so the garlic doesn’t burn.
Fry the rice. Add the cold cooked rice to the pan, breaking up any clumps with a spatula. Press the rice against the hot pan and let it sit for 1 minute to develop some crisp edges, then toss and repeat for about 3–4 minutes total.
Scramble the eggs. Push the rice to the edges of the pan to create a well in the center. Pour the beaten eggs into the well and scramble them, cooking until just set, then fold them into the rice.
Finish the dish. Return the cooked chicken to the pan. Pour the sauce over everything and toss well to coat. Add the peas and toss again for 1 minute until warmed through. Drizzle with sesame oil, toss once more, and remove from heat.
Serve. Plate immediately and garnish with green onion greens. Add extra sriracha at the table for anyone who, like Lourdes, believes moderation is for other people.

Nutrition (per serving)

Spicy Chicken Fried Rice — The Week Before the Wedding, When Every Burner Is On