Stir-Fried Ginger Chicken

I have one overweening memory of my cousin Jason. I was 10. It was Thanksgiving. And his sister, Joanna, and I were entertaining ourselves by sic-ing my non-killer miniature poodle on him, much to his dismay.

Despite my best efforts at torturing him, Jason has not only survived, but thrived. He is a math professor at USC (hello? smart much?), has a gorgeous/awesome wife, Thuy, and -- I will never get over this part -- a couple of tiny dogs. Triumph, indeed.

For the recipe book, Jason and Thuy sent along a couple of recipes, including one for Stir-Fried Ginger Chicken, that Thuy branded Jason's favorite. I was a little dubious about this recipe. Not that I thought it would be bad, per se, but I'm just not super into chicken, and stir frying it doesn't usually seem to change my feelings. So I figured it would just be 'fine.'

Before I set about to make dinner, I went over to my friend Leslie's house because we were meeting up with the dog-sitter who is going to watch Big and his best friend, Leslie's dog, Olie, over Thanksgiving. We think this is hilarious - we have basically arranged for the boys to go to sleep-away camp together. No one else seems to find it nearly as cute as we do, but whatevs.

Come on with the cuteness

Anyhow, going to Leslie's house means drinking wine. So by the time we were done regaling Alanna with tales of how cute Big and Olie are together and where the coffee maker is and all that (note: I was completely unnecessary to this process, but it's always a fun excuse to get us/the boys together), I was basically a couple of sheets to the wind.

This might be pressing it, a little. I wasn't exactly singing, 'How Dry I Am' on our walk home and vomiting into dumpsters, but let's just say I was aware that the already dangerous proposition of me with a sharp knife was going to Code Red during the cooking process.

As a result, I took things slow, and didn't even think about changing up the recipe one iota - because it was going to be all I could do to remember which of the directions I had followed. As a result of that, I survived with all my digits in tact. However, when I got to the part about how I was supposed to mince and peel ginger, I was concerned.

It's not that I haven't eaten ginger before. I have. My father once put giant, uncooked hunks of it into some Chinese food he made when I was a kid, and I still remember gulping down glass after glass of water to survive that (note: I don't think he did this on purpose to punish me for being a brat. Really.) I just haven't prepared it.

In my haze, I decided the best thing to do would be to put the ginger part off as long as possible on the prospect that when Josh got home he could show me what to do. Unfortunately, the prep for this dish went pretty quickly. Just as I was about to give up and head for my computer to google 'how to prepare ginger' and hope for the best, Josh came in the door. Thank the lord.

Here is what I now know about ginger:

1. You peel it with a peeler like a carrot or potato.
2. You can cut it up and mince it after that. Or,
3. You can us the awesome ginger grater/mincer/shredder thing I randomly got at Crate & Barrel with hopes of just this moment coming along. Which is what I did. And it works a treat.

Josh helpfully hovered with a pot lid to show me how to diffuse any more kitchen fires I might set (thankfully, not needed). And voila, Stir-Fried Ginger Chicken was complete.

The best part about it? It was really, really good. Like surprisingly good. Like, make it again for sure, good. It was like real Chinese food from a real Chinese Food restaurant. I can't believe it. I will admit the sauce smelled great when I was mixing it, but damn it turned out great, too. Tasty. Not too gingery. Delicious. I ate my whole bowl. Well, not the bowl, but you get the point.

Thuy claims this recipe is from The All New All Purpose Joy of Cooking, but I prefer to think of it as a secret, age-old family recipe that she chose to share with me. Either way: delish.

Yum. That's it. Just: yum.

Thuy's Delicious Stir-Fried Ginger Chicken

BEFORE COOKING:
In a medium bowl, mix together thoroughly -
1 egg white, lightly beaten
1 1/2 tbsp cornstarch
1/2 tsp salt (kosher!)

Cut into 3/4" cubes (more easily done if chicken is slightly frozen): 3 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves. Or cut non-frozen package of boneless, skinless chicken breast pieces. Whatever. It's fine. Boy this knife is sharp.

Toss in the egg white mixture. Let stand for 20-30 minutes.

Place on a small plate:
3 scallions, cut into 1/4" pieces (or, you know, whatever " pieces)
2 tsp minced, peeled fresh ginger (which, it turns out, isn't so hard to do)

In a medium bowl, mix together thoroughly:
2 tbsp + 2 tsp sugar
1/2 tsp salt (kosher!)
2 tbsp ketchup
4 tsp white vingear
4 tsp Chinese cooking wine (no) or dry white wine (yes)
2 tsp soy sauce

In a cup, mix together, leaving spoon for later use:
2 tsp cornstarch
2 tsp cool water

Realize as you are typing this that Thuy's very clear instructions leave little room for making jokes.

TO COOK:
Heat a wok or large skillet over high heat until hot. Add 1/2 cup peanut oil, which is sad because Thuy and Jason prefer olive oil, but you are out of olive oil, so peanut it is.

Swirl the oil around the pan until very hot, but not smoking. Or swirl just a little bit and then worry you are going to cause a fire, so call it good enough.

Add the chicken. Quickly stir and flip in the oil to separate the pieces. Think, 'If Thuy thinks I can flip anything in this pan without burning my face off, she is giving me far too much credit.' Swirl a little, using one of 4000 different cooking implements. Once again, good enough.

Cook lightly. Remove with a slotted spoon, leaving oil for later use. Set aside.

Reheat the pan, adding the ginger and scallions. Stir for 30 seconds. Check. Add the soy sauce mixture and stir. Check. Add the cornstarch and stir. Check.

Return the chicken and cook thoroughly. DONG!

Point out that Thuy wrote DONG, not you. But you like it. Who needs to order out anymore? Not me! DONG!