Skip to main content

Lemon Honey & Soy Sauce Chicken

I know I promised myself I would not reset and start anew here. Still, so much has happened since the beginning of September that continuing as if nothing had changed no longer felt honest.

I am grieving love lost and feeling anxious about what lies ahead. At the same time, I am breaking away from the domestic violence I endured over the past year. Leaving brought old wounds to the surface, including childhood traumas and secrets I carried quietly for far too long. Shame once convinced me that the abuses inflicted on me were mine to hide. While it is still difficult to speak openly, I am beginning to understand that healing only happens when we do not hide ourselves along with the abuse.

I do not know if I will ever forgive or forget. What I do know is that I want to heal. I want to tend to the wounds and allow the scars to soften with time. You may be wondering what any of this has to do with the Lemon Honey and Soy Sauce Chicken recipe.

Nothing, and yet everything.

This is the first recipe I worked on after moving out of the home I once shared with my ex-partner. That alone makes it meaningful. It felt right that this dish be the first post after restarting the blog, a quiet marker of a new beginning.

Food has always been one constant joy in my life. I love to eat and I love to cook. In the past, cooking has helped steady my anxieties. Now, once again, it has become a refuge, keeping my mind away from destructive self-criticism and gently pulling me back into the present.

This Lemon Honey and Soy Sauce Chicken recipe is simple and comforting, making it an ideal weekday dinner. Serve it with sautéed broccoli and jasmine rice for a nourishing and approachable meal.


INGREDIENTS
[serves 2 to 3 as a main course]
five chicken thighs, bone-in and skin-on
one garlic clove, roughly chopped
one tablespoon of ginger, roughly chopped
three tablespoons of soy sauce
three tablespoons of creamy lemon honey
a half tablespoon of unsalted butter

Preheat the oven to 450°F (232°C).

In a small saucepan over medium-high heat, combine the butter, soy sauce, lemon honey, ginger, and garlic. Stir until the butter melts, then reduce the heat to a gentle simmer. Continue stirring until the sauce thickens slightly.

Arrange the chicken thighs on a sheet pan with the skin facing up. Pour half of the sauce over the chicken and roast for 10 minutes. Remove the pan from the oven, spoon the remaining sauce over the chicken, and return it to the oven for another 10 minutes, or until the chicken is cooked through and the skin is golden.

Voilà. Lemon Honey and Soy Sauce Chicken.

Bon Appétit.

If you do not have creamy lemon honey, substitute two tablespoons plus one teaspoon of honey and two teaspoons of lemon juice.

_____
More recipes:

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Oh Snap! BTS Just Made the Grammys Irrelevant

I am not ARMY. The first BTS member to intrigue me was J-Hope, who appeared last year on one of my favorite Korean shows, Chef & My Fridge, with his refrigerator in tow. There, I learned that he had performed at Le Gala des Pièces Jaunes at Paris La Défense Arena at the personal invitation of Brigitte Macron, France’s first lady. Naturally, I found the performance on YouTube. Thirty-five thousand people filled the arena as thousands of voices in France roared the Korean lyric, “adeuri neom jal nagaseo mianhae, eomma.” One need not own a purple light stick to recognize that kind of cultural power. Afterward, I became mildly obsessed with J-Hope and, by association, BTS. Original photo by Sudhith Xavier. Photoshop by ChatGPT. A song currently in heavy rotation on my playlist is SWIM, from their latest album, ARIRANG. The album debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard 200 and remained there for three consecutive weeks. During its debut week, its songs occupied the top nine positions on the...

Curated: Ballet Flats for Fashionistas

The ballet flat began, quite literally, with a foot in the theater. Claire McCardell and Capezio helped coax the slipper from studio floor to city pavement in the 1940s, while Audrey Hepburn and Brigitte Bardot later supplied the sort of cinematic endorsement no advertising budget could manufacture. What had been designed for pliés became a shorthand for modern femininity: graceful without fragility, polished without the architectural inconvenience of a heel. at Musée d'Orsay, Paris, France Its staying power lies in that contradiction. The ballet flat is delicate but practical, prim but faintly rebellious—the shoe of a woman who has somewhere to be and no intention of arriving with sore feet. And so, with a small curtsy and considerably better arch support, here are 12 curated ballet flats ready to take their turn in the spotlight. ANCIENT GREEK SANDALS Iro PVC Ballet Flats JavaScript is currently disabled in this browser. Reactivate it to view this content. ANCIENT GREEK SANDALS I...

Curated Sunglasses: Shades Without the Mourning

Sunglasses began as utility: a practical defense against glare, wind, and the indignities of squinting. Then fashion claimed them. Frames grew bolder, lenses darker, silhouettes more deliberate, until sunglasses became less an accessory than a small act of self-invention—the quickest way to suggest mystery, polish, or studied indifference. I lose sunglasses the way other people lose packs of gum: casually, repeatedly, and without explanation. After enough expensive disappearances and appropriate mourning periods, I now wear budget-friendly pairs almost exclusively. These 12 curated sunglasses offer the pleasure of a fashion statement without requiring a period of mourning when one inevitably vanishes. The trouble with a small indulgence is that shipping can cost nearly as much as the thing itself—unless, of course, one reaches the minimum. To spare us that particular absurdity, all 12 were curated from Amazon Prime. JOOPIN Oversized Sunglasses ZENOTTIC Retro Square Polarized Sunglasses...

Shrimp & Kimchi Inari

Inarizushi emerged in Japan during the Edo period, when seasoned fried tofu pockets filled with vinegared rice became popular as inexpensive street food. Its name is tied to Inari, the deity associated with rice, agriculture and prosperity, and to the foxes regarded as Inari’s messengers and linked in folklore to fried tofu. Inari, however, has never been Japanese to me. Growing up in South Korea, I knew it as yubu chobap, a meal my mom packed for school lunches and picnics—and one that always felt like a treat. Rather than sushi rice, she filled the tofu pockets with different kinds of fried rice. Perhaps that is why I have never regarded the pouch as something requiring too much fidelity. Shrimp & Kimchi Inari is my homage to kimchi fried rice, only quieter: shrimp and kimchi folded into rice with less seasoning than I would ordinarily use for the fried rice version. The restraint is intentional. The lighter seasoning leaves room for the fried tofu skin, with its distinctive swee...

Do Angelenos Really Believe Their Own Politics?

Los Angeles has proudly shouted ICE Out. The slogan is morally uncomplicated. Immigration is not. At the Dodger's Stadium, April 2025 I cannot join the chant—not because I excuse the Trump Administration’s conduct, but because I believe in the rule of law. It must bind everyone: those living in this country without legal status, the officers charged with enforcing immigration law, and the federal government that gives those officers their authority. Removal can be a lawful consequence of lacking legal status when it is ordered and carried out through lawful process. During the Obama Administration, more than three million people were formally removed from the United States. More than two million others were returned, generally without formal removal orders. Large-scale immigration enforcement is not new to this country, nor is it unique to Donald Trump. What is different—and indefensible—is a federal government violating the rule of law in the name of enforcing it. I beli...

Kanye West. Ye. Adidas. How About You?

Ye’s sneaker and clothing brand, Yeezy, reportedly generated close to $2 billion annually for Adidas. Cutting ties meant walking away from serious money. It was estimated that Adidas would take a substantial financial hit by severing its relationship with Ye. When profit and principle collide, the spreadsheet usually wins. This time, it didn’t. Photo by Hrt+Soul Design on Unsplash Adidas was already navigating soft demand before Ye’s “White Lives Matter” shirt and antisemitic tirades. Yeezy accounted for a meaningful portion of revenue. Severing the partnership was not symbolic. It was costly. That is precisely why it mattered. Adidas joined GAP, Balenciaga, Vogue, JPMorgan Chase, CAA, and MRC in cutting ties. There should be no room for racism or antisemitism in commerce or culture. When speech turns into harm, neutrality becomes endorsement. Now comes the harder question. We demand corporations sever profitable relationships with public figures who traffic in hate. We applaud ...

Korean Gal's Guatemalan Red Beans with Pork Spare Ribs

Full transparency. I am afraid of pressure cookers. It is a fear instilled in me by my mom, a quiet but effective deterrent meant to keep me at a safe distance—especially when the pressure is being released. Reasonable? Perhaps. I would consider a therapist, but it has been years since I have needed one. Ceramic bowl was wheel-thrown and glazed by me. When I saw the Pressure Cooker Guatemalan Red Beans with Beef Short Ribs recipe in The World Central Kitchen Cookbook: Feeding Humanity, Feeding Hope , I knew I had to make a version of my own—one that did not require a pressure cooker. I also wanted the ingredients to feel simpler, more accessible. More importantly, I wanted the dish to center the red beans, rather than have them overshadowed by the richness of beef short ribs. This is not a bean stew, but a slow braise—one that relies on the gradual release of moisture from the ingredients themselves. So, changes were made—and thus, the name: Korean Gal’s Guatemalan Red Beans with P...

Jeju Linguine al Nero di Seppia: Gochujang Squid Pasta

Off the southern coast of the Korean peninsula lies Jeju Island, a place where the sea shapes both livelihood and cuisine. Among its prized catches is Jeju squid, known for its clean sweetness and tender bite—qualities that have long made it a favorite in Korean kitchens. Whether grilled over charcoal or gently simmered in spicy stews, Jeju squid carries the unmistakable flavor of the surrounding waters. Ceramic bowl was wheel-thrown and glazed by me. This dish brings that ingredient into a conversation between two culinary traditions. Linguine al nero di seppia, the Italian pasta tinted black with squid ink, becomes the canvas for a sauce layered with Korean flavors. The foundation begins with olive oil, onion, and garlic, followed by white wine and tomato paste that deepen in color as they cook. Then comes gochujang, whose fermented heat introduces the unmistakable character of Korean cooking. What makes the dish sing, however, is its balance. The richness of butter softens the inten...

Pasta al Tonno: A Korean Gal’s Ramyeon in Pasta

Growing up Korean, ramyeon was the reliable quick meal: intensely satisfying, reliably filling, and unlikely to leave much of a dent in the bank account. It was a cheap thrill, the sort of thing we were regularly warned was not particularly healthy while continuing to keep it stocked in nearly every Korean home. That contradiction was built into its history. Korean ramyeon was introduced in 1963, with government financing, as one possible response to South Korea’s severe postwar food shortage. Ceramic bowl was wheel-thrown and glazed by me. Once regarded largely as budget food, ramyeon now commands a global following that could almost compete with BTS. ARMY, please hold the hate mail. Pasta al tonno may not share ramyeon’s austere, mission-driven origin, but it occupies a similarly dependable place in many Italian kitchens, particularly among younger cooks and college students. It is quick, inexpensive, and deeply satisfying without putting an unnecessary dent in the wallet. Humble ...

Seafood Jajang Deopbap

Jajang, born from Chinese zhajiangmian and transformed in Korea into the rich, dark sauce made with chunjang, has become woven into the fabric of Korean everyday life. What began as an adapted working-class meal of black bean sauce (jajang) over noodles (myeon) in port cities has evolved into a national comfort food, synonymous with quick delivery, moving days, and casual family meals. Jajangmyeon was the pizza and burgers of my childhood. End-of-school semesters and good test scores were acknowledged with jajangmyeon. My grandparents always had it delivered when I stayed with them during school breaks, a proper opening to days of my grandmother’s home-cooked meals to come. Ceramic bowls were wheel-thrown and glazed by me. Its presence is as cultural as it is culinary: from shared bowls among students and office workers to its symbolic role on Black Day, when singles gather to eat jajangmyeon together. It is the unofficially official meal on moving day. More than just a sauce, jajang r...